#there's just the best that you can hope for and it's not fair

[aaagustd]

friends & lovers | jww (m)

title: friends & lovers pairing: jeon wonwoo x female reader genre/rating: fluff, smut, best friends to lovers,  idiots to lovers; 18+ summary: Sometimes the love you’re searching for has been right beside you all along. Patience is the key…the right moment will present itself eventually. wc: 2.2k warnings: swearing, unprotected sex (reader is on the pill), restraints (wrist pinning), grinding/dry humping, clit stimulation, slight orgasm control, cumshots, crying, begging, soft sex, pet names, nipple play, cum play, aftercare release date: february 9th, 2025; 9:23pm est author’s note: Hello!! This was a bday gift I wrote for @beomcoups a while back. Huge shoutout to @hobeemin for beta reading it for me at the time. I’m currently moving all of my old content here, so if you’ve read this before don’t be alarmed lol. I’m the original author.

playlist: My Boo by Usher ft. Alicia Keys | Focus by NCT 127 | ‘bout you by Seventeen | Let Me Hold You by Bow Wow ft. Omarion  | Tonight I Celebrate My Love by Peabo Bryson & Roberta Flack | Candy by Baekhyun | By My Side by JUNNY | Boo’d Up by Ella Mai | Like You by Ciara & Bow Wow

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“People are staring at us.”

You both giggle as the carousel makes its final round, shyly peeking over your shoulders at the crowd of people watching you. Somehow, Wonwoo managed to get the ride operator to start it up with just you two on. 

Both of you hopped from seat to seat like you used to do when you were kids, and your parents had to threaten to take you home if you didn’t remain seated. Although you’re adults now, you’re still fond of the old habit.

“So, let them,” you shrug. “Maybe they’ve got eyes for the cutie on the horse.”

“Can you stop?”

Wonwoo throws his head back when he laughs and clutches his stomach, giving you a glimpse of the smile you haven’t seen in months.

Ever since he and his girlfriend broke things off, he’s been cooped up in his apartment, feeling down and not wanting to be bothered. You’re glad he accepted your offer to go to the fair and take his mind off things. He says he’s fine and looks better than he did five months ago, but you know that something’s still bothering him, and you hope that tonight you can dig deep enough to find it.

“Why would I? This is fun.” 

You both step off as the ride stops, feeling high with adrenaline. Suddenly, you feel his fingertips at your sides, and he playfully tickles you, making you shriek and squirm. 

“Wonwoo!”

On-lookers coo and clutch their chest, mainly older couples and romantics. Neither of you even notices the admiration they have in their eyes until someone grabs your attention.

“You two are such a beautiful couple. May my husband and I have a picture with you? You just remind us of our younger selves,” a lady in her golden years asks with a genuine smile.

Immediately, you begin to break the news to her, but Wonwoo interferes.

“Oh, ma’am, we’re not—”

“Sure! I’ll take it. I have long arms,” he insists, taking her phone when she hands it to him. Wonwoo throws his arm over your shoulder and holds it high enough to capture all four of you. He takes the picture but doesn’t stop there. “Now one for us.”

After returning the woman’s phone to her and her husband, he pulls his device from his pocket and takes another, but this time he brings you in a bit closer. He wraps his arm around you a little tighter and whispers in your ear as he snaps the picture.

“For new memories,” he says to you.

You release a shaky breath when you disperse, and you can’t do anything but smile and wave as the couple bids their farewells. 

You never could explain the butterflies in your stomach whenever Wonwoo would be so close to you in that way. It always seems so intimate, but you wouldn’t dare say it out loud. You know it’s only those buried feelings that are causing you to react this way and nothing you should feed into.

When you’re finally alone, you turn to him and ask, “So, what now? Are you ready to go?”

“A little bit,” he answers. 

“Well, don’t let me hold you up. I’m probably just gonna go grab something to eat until my roommate’s done fucking her boyfriend. I had fun, so thanks for coming—”

You pause when Wonwoo shakes his head.

“I said I was ready to leave here,” he informs. “Not leave you.”

“Oh, okay. So umm, where do you wanna go?”

“Aren’t you hungry?” he quizzes. “We can go grab something.”

You open your mouth to speak, but he continues.

“Or…we can meet at my place, and we can order something. You can stay over if you want.”

“Really?”

“Yup. I don’t mind,” he assures.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to rush you—”

Your mouth shuts when he gives you a look, but your smile grows when he turns away and starts walking toward the parking lot.

Both of you get in your vehicles and drive towards his apartment, the tingling sensation still coursing through your veins. You try your best to calm yourself before you get there, but as you get out of your car, your legs are wobbly and shaky, indicating that you are far from okay.

Wonwoo turns to you as his door opens.

“Wanna shower?”

Gratefully, you sigh. “Yes, please.”

After a shower, slices of pizza, and a couple of movies, you and Wonwoo lay awkwardly in his bed. Both of you scroll through your phones, trying to ignore the thick tension in the air. There’s something on his tongue; you can hear it. You want to ask him, but you don’t know how.

Eventually, you start to believe it’s just your nerves. You haven’t hung out like this since before his two-year-long relationship, so you figure you just need some re-adjusting. You wiggle your way towards him so you can familiarize yourself with the feeling of being so close to him.

It isn’t long before his fingers start playing in your hair, making your eyes slightly heavy. You roll over on your back so you can look at him and try to stop yourself from falling asleep so quickly.

His smile greets you and leaves you slightly curious.

“What?” you giggle.

“Nothing, I was just thinking.”

“About?”

He sighs. “I missed you. That’s all.”

When his eyes begin to wander, you follow them once they’ve set on a particular sight. It just happens to be your thighs, and you start tugging down your borrowed shirt upon the discovery.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, more to himself than anything.

You clear your throat. “Wonwoo, I’m glad you’re feeling like yourself again, but I don’t think I can be your rebound. I’m not—”

“What? No, love. It’s definitely not like that. It’s just…Fuck it.” He shifts in his spot so he can speak to you face to face, leaving you no option but to look at him, even though you’ve been avoiding eye contact since you got here. “I need to tell you something.”

“Okay, what is it?”

“It’s about the breakup…why it happened,” he explains.

You blink a few times. You never knew the reason behind the split or how it happened; it wasn’t your place to ask. Now that he’s finally telling you, there’s an uneasy feeling growing inside of you.

“We broke up because we liked other people. She wasn’t over her ex, and I…”

“And you?...”

He takes a deep breath as if he’s about to lay it all on the table.

“I had to be honest with myself and admit that I’m really in love with my best friend,” he confesses.

Your eyes widen, lips ready to run a mile a minute, but he speaks before you do.

“I thought about this before, but the timing was just never right. And now…” he sighs. “I don’t know. I just feel like we’re on the same page, but then again, you’re looking at me like I’m crazy.”

“Wonwoo, I—”

“I know. You don’t feel the same.”

The disappointment in his voice gives you all the courage you need to come clean, and you do so before you can change your mind.

“I do feel the same,” you admit. “I’ve loved you since we were teenagers. I just never knew how to tell you.”

He seems a little shocked after hearing this.

“Really?” Wonwoo asks, his thumb tracing circles on your hand.

“Yeah.”

Your best friend just stares at you, not saying anything. You hold his gaze and never break eye contact. Moments go by like this, until eventually, his lips begin to hover over yours. They become more inviting the longer you lay there waiting for something to happen.

However, Wonwoo toughens up and makes the first move on your behalf. His mouth presses against yours delicately, and he lowers his body so that you can run your hands through his hair.

You envelop each other and get lost within the first shared kiss between two best friends who have been denying their love for one another for over a decade. The pit of your stomach goes into a frenzy as the butterflies rise and flutter wildly.

Dizziness clouds your mind as you’re swept away by the feeling. You’re light as a feather, so high that coming down seems impossible. 

It doesn’t help that Wonwoo’s lips have become greedier, and his desire is growing by the second. Your legs part to allow him in the space, and he takes the opportunity instantly. Your wrists get pinned above your head while he slowly begins to grind his crotch against yours.

A moan slips out, and he takes the chance to invade your mouth with his thick muscle. Your tongues begin exploring each other’s crevice, and you become drunk off his taste. You can’t get enough of him but the need for oxygen exceeds your lust-driven fantasies.

“I want you,” you say without much thought. Your breathing is labored and rough, but you still try to speak.  “I need you.”

“Fuck, same. But…”

“But what?”

Wonwoo shakes his head. “No condoms.”

His voice oozes with need, and his bulge is straining against his shorts. He’s as desperate as you are, but he’s trying to hold back.

“We’re good on this end. It’s okay,” you assure him. “Are you?...”

He nods. “Yes, of course. I haven’t since…”

“Well, can we?” you try again. “Please?”

“Okay, baby.”

Wonwoo lets go of your wrists and pulls down his shorts, letting his dick spring out freely. A small gasp escapes you when his length slaps your thigh. You lift your head to see it and instantly become mesmerized by its girth. You crave it and want it to fill every inch of you just like you’ve always fantasized about in your room alone.

“Like what you see?” He smirks when you nod and starts to run the tip up and down your slit, coating it with your arousal and secretly stimulating your throbbing clit. “Let’s see if you can take it.”

When he slowly enters you, your mind goes completely blank. You arch into him as he bottoms out, and he holds you and places kisses up your neck.

“Wonwoo,” you call, and he smiles against your skin.

“Ready for me?”

“Yes, please. I want to feel you.”

Wonwoo’s movements start strong, and he makes sure to hold you in place while he thrusts into you, preventing you from flying off the bed. You cry his name over and over with each powerful snap of his hips.

He lifts your shirt and exposes your breasts to his greedy mouth, taking his time with each stiffened peak and making your eyes roll back from the multiple sources of pleasure you’re receiving. 

The coil inside you tightens until it can no longer stand the pressure, and you blurt out a warning to inform Wonwoo of your orgasm.

“Wonwoo, I’m so close!”

“Me too, baby,” he moans in your ear. You run your nails down his sweaty back to ground yourself because it feels like your soul will leave your body any minute. Wonwoo goes deeper and deeper until you can no longer stand the build-up growing inside of you. “Come for me, sweetheart.”

And on his command, your body gives in, and the pleasure takes over you. Tears roll down your cheeks, but Wonwoo kisses you before the salty droplets can reach your trembling lips. Your entire body is set aflame by the heat coursing through you. The intense feeling leaves you a panting mess beneath Wonwoo, and you just lay there as he fucks you through the rest of your orgasm until he finally reaches his release.

“Fuck, where can I?”

“Anywhere you want,” you answer. “I don’t mind.”

He can only nod as he pulls out and paints your stomach with his warm cum. Wonwoo uses the tip to smear his arousal and spell his name on your skin, making you giggle and slap his arm.

“You’re nasty,” you tell him.

“Anywhere you want… I don’t mind,” he mocks but still leans down to kiss you. 

You pout when he pulls away and disappears into his bathroom for about a minute. When he returns, you’re grateful to see him with a warm washcloth and a new shirt for you. He cleans you up and helps you change before he turns out the lights and joins you in bed. Neither of you say anything at first, but eventually, he can’t hold his tongue anymore.

“I really am in love with you. I would have never done this had you not asked. You’re more than a rebound—”

“I know that, Wonwoo. We’re good, okay?”

You turn on your side so you can hug him, and he nestles in your embrace.

“So, are we keeping this a secret or…?”

You release a breath before you answer, absentmindedly playing in his brown locks. You think about your answer for a moment, and then you reply.

“As much as I want to keep you all to myself… I’ve waited all my life to call you my boyfriend.”

“So what does that mean?” he asks shyly.

“It means…” You tilt his head so he can look at you. “If anyone asks, I’ll tell them the truth.”

Wonwoo smirks at you and returns to his position buried in your chest. He whispers as he drifts into his slumber.

“That’s my girl.”

And you couldn’t agree more.

[bbyg4rl]

reader getting all hot and bothered watching jj fix her car

thank you for fixing my car JJ

cw: jj x reader, no established relationship, oral (m receiving) !

summary: you thank jj for fixing your car.

a/n: this was supposed to be a small blurb but i got carried away lol hope you like this anon ♡

"you should let me take care of your car more" JJ speaks out from where he was hunched over your car's open hood. You had been watching him for fifteen minutes now. Fifteen minutes of the best view in obx. Fifteen minutes of grunts and pants and back and abs and arms. What a view.

You were sure the oil from your car ruining jj's shirt was just the universe blessing you. It's not everyday you can sit and watch a shirtless jj work.

"all done dumbass" he says pushing the hood of your car down with a loud grunt. Your eyes refuse to leave the sight of his arms as the muscles flex.

"Oh wow" you whisper to yourself, taking mental polaroids of every movement he makes.

Not a word leaves your mouth when he faces you. Your pussy's doing the talking now.

You can't help but rub your thighs together when he shoots you a shit eating grin all covered in grease and oil.

And of course he notices the affect he's having on you. He was enjoying this too.

Why else would a two minute fix take fifteen minutes? Why else would a perfectly fine oil sump shoot oil all of a sudden? That too only on his shirt?

Seeing you all worked up over had him worked up. He had his eyes on you the whole time. He'd seen every lip bite, every clench of your thighs, every flutter of your stomach- he was feeling everything you were feeling.

It took a special kind of control for him not to take you right there. To resist dirtying you with his greasy hands and bathe you in engine oil as he bent you over the hood and slid in and out of you.

He walked over to you slowly, his greasy hands now on your knees. "No 'thank you JJ'?"

"Thank you JJ" You say to him softly, voice on the verge of whimpers. You knew that he knew what you were feeling.

He takes a step back and points to himself. "Look at me baby- a small thank you isnt gonna cut it now is it?"

He takes your hand and pulls you off your seat. Your knees felt like jelly as he led you to the back seat of your car. He opened the door and you slid into the seat, earning a chuckle from him. He slides in after you and closes the door.

"Thank you for fixing my car JJ" you giggle out as your hands reach the hem of his shorts, He groans when you palm his crotch a few times before pulling them down.

You're quickly met with his cock, standing proud in front of your face. You wrap your arms around him and give him a few slow strokes. It's only fair he deserved to feel good after all the hard work he had just done.

He pulls your hair into a makeshift ponytail with his hand and tugs you lower, silently ordering you to open up. And you gladly did. He pushed your face lower and lower as his dick twitched in your throat.

He held you down for a few more moments before using his grip on your hair to bob your head up and down on him. He hit the back of your throat with every rutt of his dick against you. Your mascara ran down your cheeks as he continued to fuck your mouth with his cock.

He pulls you off when hes satisfied with how much mascara is smeared on your face. He taps your cheek a few times- his silent code for please me.

You take his signal and reach out to stroke him, wrapping your mouth around his pink tip, You slowly suck as you tighten your hands around his shaft, twisting them around his girth, alternating between small kitten licks on his tip and long licks on the veins on his underside.

It didnt take long for him to reach his climax. He let out small whimpers as he paints your face with his cum.

"Thank you for fixing my car JJ" you say again as you lap up at the sticky liquid around your lips.

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[treatbuckywkisses]

The yearning and tension are so well written:( this made my tummy hurt in the best way😭😭 all mixed in with a very enticing side story this was so incredible it felt like I was really there in the room !!!! 

     Your stomach twisted at the words, the culpability of your actions threatening to eat away at it. Even after everything you said, even after running away from him and deserting him at the fair, he still only wanted to know you were safe. There were so many things you wanted to say. Nothing, however, was a good enough response in your mind. There was nothing you could say that wouldn’t leave a door open for more. No matter what you told him it would either crush his heart or give him hope.      You didn’t dare do either. :( when we start with the angst it really gets me😭 the last part of this is SO good 

     Natasha sighed, her lips in a tight line,” Y/n, you’re joking right? You two have already been something more to each other for a long time now. Please, none of us are blind to how you two favor each other over the rest of us.” You took a second to let her words sink in. idiots in love 💕 I'm a SUCKER 

     But in this case, it was okay, because at least in this case you were the bad guy. You were the heartbreaker and everyone can hate you. No one has to pick sides because you made it easy for them to choose Bucky, and you were okay with that.  baby:( this paragraph punched me in the gut so hard

     Bucky was one of those people. When your eyes locked as you looked out into the sea of the trial audience he sent you a small smile and gave you an encouraging nod. That was all you needed to knock your closing statement out of the park. UGH WHEN IS THE LOVE COMING I'M SICK THEY ARE SO IDIOTS IN LOVE😭😭

     “You’re scared of things changing, but can't you see they already did?” iconic nat always so smart

     There was a slight shifting sound on the other side of the door before he spoke, “Look, these past few weeks I tried really hard to push my feelings away, but I was only getting more frustrated with myself. In pushing my feelings away, I pushed you away and I don’t want that. I miss you,” his voice broke toward the end and he paused before continuing, “I want you—no, I need you to be a part of my life even if it's just as friends. Y/n, don't think for one second I regret taking you on that date because I don’t, but I can’t keep going on acting like we don’t know each other anymore.” shutup im crying:( this is sooooo precious:(((((( my heart is HURTING for him

     You were in love with Detective James Buchanan Barnes. GOOD YES FINALLY😭😭😭😭 IT'S LIKE I CAN BREATHE AGAIN

      The cookies were to sweeten up your apology, which was a long thought-out one you wrote in the notes app on your phone before going to bed. It could honestly rival any speeches you had ever given in court. so relatable (I live in my notes app) 

     The apologies, the loneliness, the anger, the sadness, the frustration, and everything in between melted away leaving only the love that was blossoming between you two behind. I love angst with a happy ending ( this made me physically ill and if I didn't read love soon I would DIE ) this is so cute I love them: ( even though it hurt

love them love you🫶🏻

Conflict of Interest - II

Pairing: Detective!Bucky Barnes x Lawyer!Reader

Summary: After deserting Bucky at the fair, you are left dealing with the consequences. This becomes difficult as you are all assigned to a new case. 

Word Count: 8.5k

Warning(s): crime show level of violence / homicide investigation details / drinking / angst / fluff / mentions of a car accident and injuries, but no major details / slight cursing / anxiety / overthinking / insecurities / lots of back and forth / misunderstandings / angst with a happy ending 

a/n: It has been a while, but part 2 of this beautiful duo is finally out! ❤️ I hope the length of part 2 can make up for how long it took me to finally finish writing it. It’s angsty with a happy ending, although the happy ending doesn’t come so easily. 👀 Thank you for reading! ❤️ Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!! 💕

➵ Prequel Drabble // ➵ Part I 

     You tossed and turned in your bed once more, the sunlight peeking through your blinds, disturbing your sleep. The events of last Saturday weighed heavy on you. So much so, that you hadn’t gone to work in the past two days—today would be the third. You claimed you came down with the flu, putting on the best performance you could when Natasha called you. You were never able to lie to her face, but over the phone wasn’t as hard. Eventually, however, you would have to go back. 

     Eventually, you would have to face him. 

     Bucky called you a few times that night after you deserted him at the fair. The guilt set in almost immediately and you were too ashamed to answer him. You managed to read one message before silencing all of the notifications on your phone.

     Can you at least let me know you got home safely?

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[darlingdaisyfarm]

This honestly might be a downer or stupid, but I just got fired and I am having a really hard time. I just want to bury my head in Stan's chest and sob. I was wondering if you could write how the Stan and Ford might react to the reader being suddenly fired and maybe how they'd comfort them? I'm also really excited for the next chapter of your fic!

✧˚��� Stan & Ford supporting you when you need it most ⋆｡♡˚

oh sweetheart, im so sorry ur going through this, holy shit. just the moment i received this ask, i knew i had to write smth when ill get free time today, because i feel so sorry for you. i hope these two old men gave u even a tiny bit of comfort, please be kind to urself right now, youre gonna get through this, i promise. sending u all my love !! stay strong please 🫂🫂

STANLEY

the thing about Stan is that he gets it. he gets the feeling of being chewed up and spat out, of having doors slam in your face, of working your ass off and still being told you’re not enough. he gets the quiet humiliation, the bitterness in the back of your throat, the way your hands shake when you try to act like it doesn’t matterm

you don’t even remember how you got here. your feet must’ve carried you through the streets, past strangers whose lives weren’t just ruined, past cars honking, past buildings that still stood while the whole world inside you had collapsed.

“hey, hey. what the hell, sweetheart, breathe, alright? you’re okay, you’re right here.” his rough but worried voice reaches you when you slam mystery shack's door open, standing in the doorway with shaking hands, red-eyed.

“i got fired, Stan. j-just gone, outta nowhere. i don’t know what to do, Stan, im so lost.” your throat burns

before you can say anything else, he's opening his arms. “c'mere.” and you don't even hesitate as you crash into him like a wave, burying your face in his chest. and he holds you, one big arm wrapping around your back, the other hand coming up to cradle the back of your head

“there we go. you don’t gotta keep it all in, sweetheart.” the words hit you harder than you expect. you're so used to holding it together, to swallowing everything down, to being strong. and Stan, who’s built himself up from nothing, who’s taken every punch life threw at him and still kept standing, he’s telling you it’s okay to break.

so you do. you bury your face in his chest and cry until you’re dizzy, until your breath stutters and shakes, until all the anger and hurt and fear bleed out of you. Stanley doesn’t rush you or tell you to stop. “let it out, sweetie, s’gonna be okay.” he holds you close tightly because he’s spent his whole life holding people who needed it more than he did.

“it’s not fair,” you gasp, clutching on his clothes.

“no, it ain’t.”

“i worked so hard.”

“i know.”

“i feel like—like nothing i do is enough—”

Stan tightens his hold, pressing his chin to the top of your head. “hey. you listen to me.” his voice turns serious. “some suit in an office makin’ a crap decision got nothing to do with who you are. they're dumb. absolute morons for lettin’ you go. betcha the whole place is gonna fall apart without you because you were the best thing about that shithole. if they couldn’t see that, then screw ‘em. they lost you. not the other way around.”

you shake your head, clenching your fists. “but—“

“no buts,” he growls and then, softer: “you're not trash just ‘cause some idiots don’t know how to treat their workers. you're not worthless just ‘cause some suits decided you were expendable. you are not nothing.”

Stan pulls back to tip your chin up, making sure you’re listening. his thumb wipes a tear off your cheek. “i mean, you still got me, sweetheart. ain’t no job in the world that could change that.” he smiles genuinely at you.

you close your eyes, giving him a tiny sad smile back. you let yourself breathe, let yourself believe it, hiding your face in his chest again. Stan's grip stays strong and unshaking, shielding you from the whole world as you cry until you’re too tired, so all what you do is sob into his chest. you’re just leaning into him, exhausted, letting him hold you up.

Stan sighs, resting his cheek against your hair. “ya ever heard the story of the biggest screw-up in New Jersey?”

you sniffle. “what?”

”lemme tell ya, kid grows up in a house that don’t want him. gets kicked out. loses every job he ever had. ends up in a broken-down shack in the middle of nowhere. total loser.”

you shift against him. “Stan—“

“but he keeps goin’. and somehow, somehow, that dumbass loser ends up with people who love him. ends up holdin’ someone who needs it. ends up tellin’ the best damn person he’s ever met that they’re gonna be okay.”

he lets you lean into him again, lets you breathe him in, lets you stay as long as you need. tells you stories about all the bosses he’s scammed just to make you laugh.

at some point, when the tears have slowed and the weight in your chest isn’t crushing anymore, Stan ruffles your hair and leans back, arms crossed.

“y’know, i could use an extra set of hands around the shack.“

you blink up at him, sniffing. “what? you. . .you want me to work here?”

“yeah, id rather have someone i actually like workin’ here instead of hiring some random kid who’s just gonna rob me blind.” his usual gruff tone is back, but his gaze is what speaks louder, soft and certain, making it obvious that you belong here.

you open your mouth, but he cuts in, pointing a finger at you. “and before ya say some crap about not bein’ good enough or whatever, shut up. i’m the boss, i decide who’s good enough, and i say it’s you.”

you let out a shaky laugh, wiping your nose. “wow, such a heartfelt offer.”

he smirks. “hey, that’s as heartfelt as it gets, sweetheart. but seriously. think about it, okay? i got a spot for ya.” Stanley is not just offering a job for you, he’s offering a place, a place where you’re wanted, where you’re needed, where you don’t have to prove yourself to anyone.

you take a deep breath, feeling lighter for the first time all day. “yeah. yeah, i’ll think about it.”

“good,” Stan smiles and ruffles your hair again. “now, wanna eat somethin’? watch a dumb movie? beat me at cards? or you want me to egg their car?” about the last thing, he's joking, probably. but if you say yes, you know he’ll do it.

STANFORD

Ford finds you sitting at the kitchen table, arms crossed on the surface, face buried in them. you haven’t moved and spoken in a while, just sat there, motionless, like a puppet with the strings cut.

he clears his throat, stepping closer. “i, ah. noticed you didn’t come in for dinner.”

you don’t respond. his brows knit together, concern creasing his forehead. he takes the seat across from you, folding his hands on the table. “would you like to talk about it?”

for a moment, nothing. then, muffled: “i got fired.” slips from your mouth. so that's what happened. Ford doesn’t say oh. doesn’t say im sorry. doesn’t say what happened? he understands you because Ford Pines knows what it is to be discarded. he knows what it is to dedicate yourself to something, only to be told you are wrong. to be shoved out, unmoored, drifting in the space between who you thought you were and who they’ve decided you are now.

he knows what it is to look down at his hands and wonder if they are still meant to build something. after being betrayed.

he frowns thoughtfully. “that was. . . rather sudden, wasn’t it?”

you nod weakly. Ford exhales through his nose, gaze sharpening, analyzing. you. your sadness. the whole situation.

“it must feel unfair.“ he doesn’t just acknowledge the loss, but the injustice of it. and it makes your throat close up.

you lift your head slightly, looking at his face. “it- it is. i tried so hard. i put so much effort into that stupid job, and now it’s just—just gone.”

Ford hums. “tell me something.” he leans forward, putting elbows on the table. “do you think your value was in the work you did?”

you blink at him, but he doesn't even let you answer. “because if that were the case, then the moment you lost that job, you would have lost all worth as a person. but that’s not true, is it?” his voice is always so calm, full of absolute certainty.

you shake your head slowly, unsurely and Ford nods, satisfied. then, after a brief pause, he stands. “wait here” you don’t have the energy to question him. you just sit, staring blankly at the tabletop, until he returns a moment later with a notebook and pen.

he places them in front of you.

you glance up, confused. “what’s this for?”

Ford takes his seat again, tapping a finger against the cover. “do me a favor, darling. write down five things about yourself that have nothing to do with your job.”

your face looks tired and skeptical. you stare at the paper. “Ford, i—“

“anything,” he says softly, smiling at you. “everything. what you love. what you’re good at. what excites you, what makes you feel something. what matters to you.”

your fingers tighten around the pen. at first, you don’t know where to start. but Ford doesn’t rush you, just patiently sits beside you.

so you write. you write about the things that make you you. and at first, it feels stupid and awkward. it starts small, your favorite books, your favorite songs, the way you love thunderstorms, the way you always make extra coffee just in case someone else wants some.

but then it gets bigger. the things you’ve created. the things you’ve learned. the times you were kind when no one was looking. the people who love you, who see you. the way you keep going, even when it’s hard

Ford watches as you write, nodding approvingly at each entry.

“now tell me: did losing your job take any of that away?”

you stare at the words. the little pieces of yourself you hadn’t even thought about in the wake of everything. softly, you shake your head

Ford’s expression gentles. “then you’re still you. and you’re still worth just as much as you were yesterday. because no job, no institution, no single event defines you.” you swallow hard. Fords voice drops lower. “you are more than what you do, more than what you produce, more than what some company decides you’re worth. you are your thoughts. your curiosity. your kindness.” he gestures to the list. “you are all of this and nothing can take that from you.”

your breath wobbles. Ford’s gaze softens further. “come here, sweetheart.“ you hesitate but only for a second, then stand and he meets you halfway, arms wrapping around you. and Ford isn’t Stanley, isn’t someone used to giving big, open, thoughtless affection. but what he lacks in ease, he makes up for in intent.

because he means this. his big hand moves up and down your back slowly. “you’re not alone in this,” he murmurs into your hair. “we’ll figure something out. and until then. . . you are still extraordinary.“ his voice is so certain, and suddenly you don’t feel quite as lost.

“th-thank you” you bury your face in his sweater, hands gripping his sleeves

“and don’t let anyone ever tell you you aren’t smart or brave or worthy enough.”

you stay there a while. until Ford gives your shoulder one last squeeze and pulls back, adjusting his glasses. “now. i assume you haven’t eaten?”

you smile at him, shaking your head. “no, wasn't in the mood.“

“come, sweetheart, let’s fix that.”

[sirfrogsworth]

I just had a nightmare about my mom. They happen from time to time. I think it is because I don't think about my mom. Not yet.

My dad's death was on his own terms. He was mostly comfortable. I was at his side the entire time so he was never alone. He had been ready to die for quite some time.

My mom's death was a horror show. She was in so much pain before she got COVID. Then she was put in a glass bubble all alone. She had two masks trying to give her enough oxygen. Yet she was gasping for air all the same. Our last conversation was on the phone. She was terrified. And all she could think about was how my dad was. She kept asking if he was okay. She was worried that COVID would kill him too. She probably thought infecting him was her fault. The masks were too loud and she was hard of hearing. She could not hear my answers. I could not tell her my dad was okay. That the vaccine saved him. And my last words to her were me yelling "I LOVE YOU" in the hopes she could hear it. But I don't think she could.

I can't think of a worse way to go. In pain. Unable to breath. Alone. Terrified. And feeling guilt that you may have killed the person you loved the most.

So I think about my dad instead. I mourn him first. And I push what happened to my mom out of my mind as best I can. Because I am sick. I am tired. And I do not have the energy to process what happened to her.

But when I sleep I have no power over my dreams. And her nightmare becomes my nightmare.

I'm working on getting a therapist. I found one I like. But she has a waitlist. And it's been over a month. I had a list of other possibilities, but I am just too tired to go over it right now. And I'd really like to try the one I found. She seemed like a good fit. I don't know if it is better to wait a bit longer or explore other options.

I woke up from my nightmare so angry. I kept thinking the world deserved my mom and COVID took her. The world doesn't deserve Trump and COVID spared him. His incompetence helped kill her and his wealth helped save him.

That's just not fair.

[keeryhours]

no one knows (oh, what you do to me) - steve harrington

CEO!Steve Harrington x personal assistant fem! reader

Main Masterlist

Steve Harrington Masterlist

1k Celebration Masterlist

Summary:

Your boss is too hot for his own good.

1k celebration prompt: “Behave.”

Warnings:

Smut (18+), unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), fingering, drinking, smoking, unspecified age gap

Word Count: 3k

A/N:

Thank you for celebrating with me! You can still request here if you want to join!

Big big shoutout to the best @punkrockmlchael @the-witty-pen-name @lesservillain @fizzing-imagines @losingmygrasponreality for reading and helping with ideas!

Mr. Harrington fastened his cuff links, staring intently at his reflection in the mirror in his large office. His hair was perfectly styled, his expensive suit dry cleaned and pressed. He had spritzed on the slightest bit of his cologne, the scent intoxicating even from the other side of the room.

You came over to him with your binder in hand, little black dress hugging your curves just right. This company party was an important one, there would be CEOs and presidents from multiple large companies in attendance. You could tell Steve was nervous. There was a major deal he was hoping to close.

“Can I help with anything, Mr. Harrington?” You asked, opening your binder and looking through the list of tasks. As his personal assistant, you were determined to help this party run as smoothly as possible. “The caterers have arrived, they just finished getting set up downstairs.”

Steve glanced away from the mirror to meet your eyes, giving you a kind smile that did nothing to hide his nerves. “No, you’ve done amazing. Thank you.”

The electricity between you felt like a physical presence. You had always been drawn to Steve, from the moment you got hired at his company. You originally had been hired as a receptionist, but Steve took such a liking to you and how you did things that he promoted you to his personal assistant. You loved the job. It paid well, it was exciting work, something you were good at, and Mr. Harrington was a kind and fair boss.

He was also extremely good looking. Maybe a little too old for you. And, you know. Your boss.

It didn’t stop you from swooning over him, or constantly gushing about him to your friends, or thinking of him when you were alone.

It didn’t help, the way he looked at you. Like he felt it, too. The way his gaze would linger on you whenever he had the chance, how he would place a hand on your back and let it linger too long, the way he always wanted you by his side (which probably was because you were his assistant, but you’d read into it if you wanted to, dammit). Steve was quiet about his private life, but you had certainly noticed the lack of a ring on his finger.

Lisa, the new secretary, popped her head into the office. “The guests are arriving, Mr. Harrington.”

He gave her a nod. “Thank you, Lisa.” He looked over his appearance in the mirror one more time, and you wished you could tell him he looked perfect and sexy as hell, not a single thing out of place. “Are you ready?” He asked you.

“Ready,” you confirmed, and he surprised you by holding his arm out for you. He looked at you expectantly as you stared at it in shock, but finally snapped yourself out of it and linked your arm with his.

Down at the party, things were in full swing quickly. You trailed Steve as he spoke to about a million businessmen and women, introducing you as his assistant. You were surprised he deemed you important enough to introduce to these people at all. They were nice enough, but quickly turned their attention back to Steve.

The alcohol was flowing, and everyone was in good spirits. Steve’s conversations with the other professionals were going well, especially with Mr. Connor, the CEO he was trying to close a deal with. You could always tell when Steve was happy with how a deal was going because he could never wipe off that charming smile, the laugh lines on his face prominent.

“Do you want to get some fresh air with me?” Steve asked after a little while. It was getting stuffy in there and you were a few drinks deep, so you agreed. Steve led you out the back glass doors onto a private balcony.

He pulled a lighter and a pack of cigarettes from behind a potted plant, pulling one out and placing it between his lips. You raised your eyebrows, and he smirked as he brought the flame of the lighter up to the cigarette. “Our little secret,” he said.

Somehow, it made him even hotter. And now you had a secret together? It might have been the alcohol, but your head was spinning with how badly you wanted this man.

And maybe it was also the alcohol, but you were feeling a little bold.

Your pen slipped from your hand (totally by mistake, of course), clattering to the ground. “Oh, shoot,” you hissed, and you bent over, giving Steve the perfect view of your ass in your short dress.

You could practically feel Steve’s eyes on you. And oh, was he looking. His eyes shamelessly dragged over the curve of your perfect ass, the tiniest glimpse of your black lace panties beneath. The smoke left his lips in a slow cloud as he took in every inch of you he could before you stood again, his pants now uncomfortably tight.

“Sorry,” you blushed, leaning back against the balcony as you faced him again.

“Don’t apologize,” he said. “You don’t need to apologize for anything.”

You only blushed deeper, your eyes roaming Steve’s figure, his immense sex appeal only increased as you watched him smoke. “Sorry,” you said again out of habit.

Steve chuckled. “You look beautiful tonight.”

You cheered internally. He had really just complimented you.

“You don’t look bad yourself, Mr. Harrington,” you smiled at him, a little flirtatious. For the year you’ve dreamed of making some kind of move, you’re still beyond shocked that you’re actually doing it.

“Please,” he waved his hand with the cigarette before dragging on it one more time. “Call me Steve.”

He had never told you to do that before. Your heart thundered in your chest - what did this mean?

“My ex wife never liked when I smoked,” he commented randomly. “So now I keep it quiet.”

It was the first thing Steve had ever told you about his personal life. It caught you off guard, and your own next words surprised you even more. “Are you single now?”

Steve smirked at the question. “Yes. I am.” Another drag. “You?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, completely giddy that he’d even asked. “Single.” He smiled again, giving you a little nod like he approved of that.

When he finished his cigarette he stubbed it out, tossing it off the balcony. He straightened his suit and slid a hand over his always immaculate hair. “Ready to get back to it?”

Back at the party, you were suddenly physically much closer to Steve. He led you around with his large hand on the small of your back, and you could almost pretend you were his date. His young little trophy wife, attending events on his arm without a pen and binder clutched to your chest.

Steve being into you out back had only boosted your confidence, and the cocktails were certainly helping. You would make a point to slide in front of him in tight spaces, muttering a quiet “Excuse me,” as you brushed your ass over the crotch of his pants completely on purpose. You could feel his breath hitch behind you; the way he twitched like he wanted to move away but also wanted to touch you. You kept bending over in front of him again and again, leaning across him and pushing your breasts near his face.

It was working. Steve’s attention was entirely on you, totally distracted whenever a colleague would speak to him. Something about his demeanor seemed a little on edge, and next thing you knew, he was grabbing you by the arm and pulling you out into the hallway. Your eyes were wide when he spun on you.

“I’m carrying this company’s reputation on my back,” he said, eyes shining with intensity. “This is potentially the most important deal of my life.” He leaned in close, lips brushing against your ear. It gave you goosebumps. “So you need to be a good girl and behave.”

Your mouth parted in silent shock. An electrical current ran through your body, right to your core. His hand trailed up your thigh, pushing the skirt of your dress up slowly.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?” He practically growled in your ear.

“I-“

“Oh, don’t act cute,” he sneered. “You know exactly what you’re doing. You may be young, sweetheart, but you’re not some innocent little girl.”

You were speechless. Steve looked like he was fighting something in his own head; he cursed under his breath. “We’re not gonna be able to go back to that party until we get this out of our systems, are we?”

And with that he pulled you to the elevator. “Where are we going?” You asked, attempting to keep up with his long strides in your heels without falling on your face.

“To my office,” he said simply. He pressed the button for the top floor and the doors slid closed.

The second they did, Steve was on you. He pushed you up against the wall, his lips on yours in an instant. Your arms wrapped around his neck as his hands slid up your dress, grabbing your ass and pulling your body against his. God, was he hard already?

He bit down on your bottom lip before his tongue slid over it and you let him in with a moan, the smirk felt against your lips as his tongue pressed into your mouth. His hands slid over your hips, teasing the hem of your panties.

“I’ve been wanting to get my hands on you since you walked in these doors for the first time,” he murmured. “You have no idea the restraint I’ve had to show. The things I’ve had to do to the thoughts of you when I get home just so I can control myself at work.”

You whimpered at his words, clit throbbing between your legs at his dirty mouth. Were you dreaming?

“Mr. Harrington…”

Steve groaned, pushing his hardened cock against you. “I told you, you don’t have to call me that. But fuck, I love it when you do.”

The elevator dinged, the doors sliding open and revealing the empty hallway. Steve lifted you, and you squealed as your feet left the ground and your legs wrapped around his waist. He carried you the short distance to his office, fumbling with the doorknob as he held you up.

Inside, he carried you to his huge mahogany desk. He used one arm to sweep everything but the computer off and onto the floor, sitting you on top of it. Your eyes were wide, head spinning at how bad he clearly wanted you as the papers all scattered to the ground, making a huge mess Steve didn’t seem to give a fuck about.

He hiked your short dress up around your waist, revealing your black lace panties and your (thankfully) freshly shaven legs. His hands slid up the smooth skin slowly, like he was savoring every inch of your body. He wore a ring on his right hand, the real gold like ice against your skin, making you shiver.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he remarked to himself. “And such a little minx. You know what those tiny little skirts do to me?” He leaned in closer, lips brushing your neck. “It’s against our dress code, you know. Couldn’t bring myself to say anything because I liked the view too much.”

He kissed your neck, running his tongue over the sensitive flesh as he moaned at the taste of you. He pulled back and quickly discarded his suit jacket, throwing it over the back of his desk chair. Your hands moved for his expensive leather belt, unbuckling it and then working on the button of his pants.

“I’ve wanted you so bad,” you admitted. Steve chuckled, the sound way sexier than you’d ever heard a laugh sound. He bit down on your neck and you moaned, tilting your head to the side. His hands caressed your body, now sliding up your sides until he was grabbing at your tits.

You got his pants undone just as he reached for your panties, sliding them down your legs. He placed your high heel-clad feet on the edge of the desk, spreading your legs wide for him before he wrapped his hands around your thighs and lowered his head to your pussy.

You gasped at the feeling of his tongue licking along your folds, devouring your wetness and groaning at the taste of you. “Fuck, taste so good. So sweet. Just like I imagined.”

He was so good. He worked his tongue expertly against your cunt, paying special attention to your clit as he flicked it with his tongue and wrapped his lips around it, sucking gently. You cried out, head tilting back as you leaned back on your arms. Steve grabbed tightly onto your hips, pulling you as close to his face as possible. His tongue teased your hole, nose brushing against your clit.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” you moaned. “I’m gonna cum, ohmygod-“

Steve slipped a long finger inside of you, curling it and pumping deep inside, and it was all it took to push you over the edge. You moaned loudly, not even thinking about if there could be a janitor or other staff member on the floor. Steve groaned as he worked you through your orgasm, drinking in every bit of slick you gave him.

When he stood to his full height again, you could see the wetness on his lips and chin, the sight absolutely obscene and so hot. He crashed his lips to yours again, the taste of you lingering on his tongue. He moved back a little to push down his pants and briefs, long, hard cock springing free.

Jesus Christ.

It was such a pretty cock. Long and thick, just the slightest upward curve. There was a vein along the underside of it that you ached to run your tongue over. His tip was tinged red, precum glistening at his head. You longed to wrap your lips around him, to have a taste. His cock twitched as he watched you staring, and you reached for it.

But Steve already had other plans.

“Later,” he promised you, slotting his body between your thighs. You breathed out at the feeling of his hard dick pressed against your pussy, insistent and ready. “I need to be inside you, baby. I can’t wait another second.”

And with that he pushed inside of you, the stretch intense but incredible. You both moaned deeply as he sunk into your deliciously tight heat, it was everything he imagined and more.

“Mr. Harrington-“ you cried out a moan as he snapped his hips into you, filing you with the rest of his length abruptly. He was so deep his cock was pressed up against your cervix, you had never had a guy so deep inside you before.

Steve shuddered as the formal title accidentally slipped from your lips, holding still as he was buried to the hilt and trying desperately not to cum in 2 seconds. He had never in his life felt a pussy so perfect, so tight and wet and made for his cock. “Fuck…” he hissed.

“Please fuck me,” you begged, moving your hips, desperate for the friction of him moving inside you. Steve groaned again, face buried in your neck, but he slowly drew his hips backwards, pulling out until only his tip remained, then snapped them back into you.

He started a quick pace, like he lost all self control and now could only think about fucking you, losing himself in your perfect cunt. He held your hips as he rutted his cock into you, the noises of your wetness around his cock and his skin on yours filling the room. The sturdy desk groaned under the intensity of his movements.

“Feels so good,” he huffed, moving back to press his lips to yours again. “Perfect little pussy. So much better than I imagined at home with my cock in my hand.”

You moaned, because fuck, he had gotten himself off to the thought of you?

“You’re so big, Mr. Harrington,” you whined, pussy throbbing around him as he hit your g-spot with every deep thrust. Steve seemed to lose the tiny sliver of self control he was desperately holding onto at that, his pace turning brutal and his fingers digging bruises into your hips.

“Shit, I’m not gonna last,” he hissed. “I’ve wanted this for so fucking long, and I’m not gonna last.”

“Want you to cum in me,” you begged. “I’m so close. I wanna feel you filling me up.”

“H-ohh,” Steve let out a mixture of a moan and a whimper, hips stuttering as he nearly came right then and there. “Cum around my cock, baby girl, and I’ll fill you up just like you want.”

He reached a hand between you and rubbed against your clit, that extra bit of stimulation all you needed to have you clenching around his cock over and over as you came, leaning back and your back arching off the desk as the intense feeling washed over you like a wave. “Mr. Harrington! Steve, I- oh god, oh fuck!”

He wasn’t long behind you, groaning your name loudly as his ropes of cum shot deep into you, balls tightening like he was giving you every drop he had. “Fuck! Fuck!”

He held you, both of you trembling as you came back down to earth. Finally Steve pulled out of you, some of his cum escaping and dripping onto his desk below you. Steve just about lost it right then.

He adjusted himself back into his pants, reaching for the tissue box on the floor to get you cleaned up. You blushed as he did, not used to such sweetness after a hookup. He handed you your panties and you gratefully pulled them back on, pulling your dress back down. You had a party to get back to, after all.

“That was…” You began, unsure what to say.

“Incredible,” Steve took the word from you. “But next time-“

“Next time?” You squeaked out, unable to hide the excitement in your voice.

Steve smirked. “Next time, I’m going to take my time with you.”

[whereianonymouslypostfics]

Costume Party

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Word count: ~5.8k

Summary: You and Wanda go to a Halloween party

A/N: This one was mostly for my own benefit tbh...

Warnings: fluff, lusting over wifey, angst

You’ve never done something like this before.

Correction. 

You’ve never done something like this before with Wanda. 

You’d lost count of how many parties you’ve gone to since starting at the clinic you were hired at right after graduation. There had been Halloween, New Year’s, and Christmas parties over the years, but it was no surprise to anyone which was your favorite. 

The parties were usually held at one of the doctor’s houses or a venue in town. Somehow, you’d avoided having to host at your place because although it was large enough, you definitely didn’t want anyone snooping around. You also knew it would be nightmare for security. One year you’d used Pietro’s house and that had gone pretty well, but you didn’t want to put him out again. Especially since he hadn’t been able to attend. 

This was exactly what you and Wanda were dealing with today.

You’d wanted Wanda to come with you to this year’s Halloween party hosted by the lead doctor at work. You’d thought about it a lot and you were convinced that if she dressed up enough, she would be unrecognizable. When the idea first came to you, you did extensive research to pick the best option for Wanda. Rather you picked the top three ideas and then presented them to your wife with a hopeful expression. You’d immediately disregarded matching costumes because that was one cliché you weren’t into. Your options had been narrowed down as well, and since you loved a good top hat, you were going to put together a steampunk outfit somehow. 

Wanda had met your options with reluctance. Not because she didn’t want to go with you, but as always, she was just worried that her disguise would fail. She didn’t want to be conceited enough to think that she’d be easily recognized, but she also didn’t want to risk the fallout associated with the alternative. You’d agreed, which is why all of the options for your wife included full, if not over the top make up.

“I’m not…can you explain this one again?” 

You remember how Wanda had shot you an uncertain look as she gestured to the picture you’d printed out of the costume you really wanted your wife to choose. 

It was from one of your favorite artist’s music videos and it involved pink hair, a suit, and makeup that made her look like a skeleton. 

A very hot skeleton.

You’d told your wife some of this, and since she’d recognized the artist’s name, she’d finally decided to go with it. 

“You’re sure you can find someone to do the make up?” 

You’d certainly considered this since as much as you’d like to give it a shot, you didn’t have the necessary skill. You talked to Nat and she’d used her connections to find someone in school to be a makeup artist. They’d already confirmed that they could do any of the three choices, and they were willing to sign an NDA.

It was all just up to your wife now. 

“Okay, let’s do that one then. It looks…cute.” 

You’d laughed at this, and you smile at the memory as you stand in the living room waiting for your wife to finish up.

It was the night of the party and you were already dressed and ready to go. Granted your costume didn’t involve quite as much work as your wife’s, but you’re still a little antsy to get going. You glance at your pocket watch. The one that you bought to go with this costume. It looked old and fit the theme perfectly, and it somehow cost less than $50. You know you’ll probably rarely use it after tonight, but it’s still worth it.

You’re excited to finally introduce your wife, or at least her alter ego, to everyone that you work with. You know it’s causing Wanda a fair amount of anxiety, but you’re going to do your best to reduce this as much as possible. You’ve prepared answers to any questions and you’ve practiced with Wanda a dozen times since she agreed to go to this party.

You’re ready.

Wanda’s regretting her decision to say yes to you. 

As much as she loves you, she’s not sure that this was the best idea. Her costume is coming together nicely, and she can’t say that she even recognizes herself in the mirror, but she’s still nervous. 

She has blue contacts in and her make up is almost completely done. Her pink blonde hair looks so out of character that she’d laugh if she wasn’t afraid of scaring her make-up artist. They already appeared a little on edge when they started, but as they’d gotten into their work they luckily seemed to relax. Wanda was trying to make small talk, but her own nerves made that minimal. 

She nearly jumps when she feels something brush against her legs and the hands in her lap. She glances down just enough to avoid getting poked in the eye, and she spots Rogue looking up at her curiously. She smiles at him and scratches his head before she realizes that he’s getting fur all over her. Luckily she’s not changed into her suit yet, but she’d hate to ruin the effect by showing up covered in fur.

Then again, if anyone will understand the plight, it will be a bunch of people in vet med. 

“Hey bud. Are you getting bored? We’re almost done here.” 

Not that she thinks Rogue will be any less bored soon since he’s not allowed to come tonight. The invite had kiddingly said that all pets were allowed, but there would be no pet sitters at the party. Not only did that sound like hell, but she is certain that Rogue would not do well. He’d probably stick to her side all night and she didn’t want that. She wanted to try and enjoy her time with you, and that would be much easier if she wasn’t worried about her dog while trying to maintain her cover.

Almost half an hour later, you glance up at the sound of the bedroom door opening. You smile when you see Rogue run out first, but you nearly drop your phone at the sight of your wife.

“Holy shit.” 

You’re smiling widely as you watch Wanda descend the stairs in all her glory. You try to focus on each part of the costume before taking it all in at once.

She hadn’t wanted to dye her hair for this so she’d found a very convincing wig. It’s long enough that the pink falls past her shoulders and down her back. 

The simple black suit with a white top looked tailored within an inch of its life, and you were obsessed with it. The dress shoes she wore were so new they shined and you don’t realize you’re staring until suddenly you catch a hint of your wife’s perfume. You look up and are immediately rendered dumb again at the precise, surprisingly flattering makeup. 

“Wow.” 

Wanda hadn’t failed to notice your attention, but she was a little preoccupied by your appearance to comment immediately. 

She’d seen you collecting pieces of your costume over the past few weeks, but this was the first time she was seeing it come together. She doesn’t realize that she’s stopped short and Rogue’s stumbled into her as she takes in your unreasonably attractive look.

You’re wearing a dark red tailcoat that extends down past your calves that are adorned in black boots that fall just short of your knees. Wanda focuses on the leather of the coat and how it tapers into a material that matches the red of your tight pants. Her gaze drifts back up to the elaborate belt and the corset that nearly makes her bite her lip. The corset dips into a V to reveal a hint of the black collared shirt you’re wearing underneath. 

“Well fuck.” 

You’re smiling widely as your wife finally meets your gaze before it flits to your personal favorite portion of your ensemble. The hat. 

You are wearing more jewelry than you usually do, and you’re not sure you can eat anything in the corset, but the look on your wife’s face is so worth it. 

“You like?” 

The unnecessary question is just met with a silent nod as Wanda reaches out for your gloved hands. She admires the gauntlets you’re wearing and the attention to detail that your costume required. She meets your gaze again with another muttered curse as she reaches up to touch the goggles that you have secured around your hat. You only considered wearing them briefly until you realized how hard it was to see through them.

You also had considered wearing a skirt or a dress, but this was a work party, and you didn’t want to overdo it. 

“You look fantastic, detka. Shit.” 

Wanda’s really regretting her decision to go to this party now because that means they need to leave soon, and she’d want nothing more than to stay here with you instead. She’d love to take off this costume piece by piece, but unfortunately, she’s going to have to wait.

You’re reaching out for Wanda, stopping just short of touching her face before your hand falls to one of her lapels. You play with Wanda’s fake pink locks with a grin of your own that tells your wife all she needs to know. That said, it never hurts to hear how much you appreciate her, out loud. 

“Thanks, babe. I’m a bit at a loss for words. You look so much better than I ever imagined. You did a great job, Lane!” 

The makeup artist that Wanda just realized was still here smiles politely before offering you a rushed thanks. You ask them to take a picture of you two before you let them flee to the car that brought them here to be escorted home. You gave them a hefty tip on top of their paltry fee, and since they signed the necessary documents to ensure their silence, you let them go with a thank you, but not another thought. 

“I’m kind of wishing I didn’t say I’d go to this party after all.” 

Wanda can’t help but laugh when you say this, and you have to resist the urge to lean in and kiss her. You don’t want to ruin her makeup. She sees you lean in slightly before falling back again and she offers you a sly grin.

“That’s going to have to wait. I’m also a little worried I can’t eat or drink anything at this party.

You’ll find out later that she can do both, she just has to be careful about it. You arrive a fashionably 30 minutes late only to be greeted by the lady of the house.

You smile widely and Wanda prepares herself for a night of niceties and subterfuge. 

“Y/n! Wow you look great! Oh goodness you must be Linda. It’s so nice to meet you!” 

That was the other thing about tonight. 

You had to remember that you were married to ‘Linda’ tonight, and that the woman beside you was in life insurance. It sold itself, but it was honestly not something very interesting to talk about which was key. 

You accept a hug from the taller doctor, and you send her a silent thank you when she just shakes Wanda’s hand before waving the two of you in. You can tell that Claire’s house is already full of your coworkers and their spouses, and you have to bite back a smile at the glee you feel at finally being able to introduce Wanda to them. You lead Wanda down the hall by the hand as you turn around to glance at the blonde with a knowing look.

The theme tonight had been very loosely thrown out by several people at work. Pop culture or media. Being the person that you were, you were very anxious about dressing up wrong, and Wanda had to remind you that it honestly didn’t matter. Pop culture or media could encapsulate practically anything.

Including a movie character. 

You pause momentarily before you speak up loudly enough for Wanda to hear you. She gives the blonde beside you a once over before realizing that she never would have guessed her costume if you hadn’t just told her.

“You look so much like Uma Thurman right now that it’s a little scary.” 

You note the yellow and black jumpsuit as you walk farther into the house where you catch normal music instead of something Halloween themed playing. That was one thing you didn’t enjoy about the holiday. The cheesy music. 

Claire laughs as she follows you to the open living room that has nearly two dozen people either talking, dancing, or enjoying the food and drinks. 

“It was Rick’s idea. He dressed up as Bill for some reason. I think he’s trying to tell me something, but I’m not quite sure what it is.” 

You stifle a loud laugh as you catch sight of the blonde’s husband at the counter mixing drinks dressed the part of a villain. 

You and Wanda make the rounds before either of you bother to grab a drink. You’d met multiple couples dressed up in a variety of costumes, and you think your favorite was a female couple dressed as Dracula and Freddy Krueger. 

Wanda’s paranoid as always and gets some bottle of beer while you get whatever was in the punch bowl. You smile at your wife lovingly as you lean against the small alcove beside the kitchen you’ve managed to escape to. You take a sip and spend the next few moments admiring Wanda’s still perfect suit and makeup. You are dying to kiss her, but as you watch her carefully sip from her bottle, you know that you’ll ruin her lipstick. The black lines carefully drawn across her lips have the effect of looking like teeth, and if you think too much about it, you’d be a little scared of her. 

The makeup doesn’t just stop at her face either. It extends down her neck, and any other exposed skin to make her look the part of a skeleton. The fingers circling the bottle are meticulously drawn on, and you’re surprised to see they’ve held up well to shaking half a dozen hands. 

“What’s on your mind?” 

You realize you’re caught when you meet Wanda’s gaze to see her shooting you a suspicious look. You don’t have time to respond before someone over her shoulder catches your attention. 

“Dr. Y/l/n, oh my God, I barely recognized you! You look so good!” 

You stand up a little straighter and offer a wide, genuine smile as you look over the younger woman’s outfit.

Meghan is one of the newer vet assistants at work, but she’s so quick to catch on that it feels as if she’s been there for years. She’s smart, a great multitasker, and you’re seriously going to miss her when she goes to vet school in a year. 

The brunette is dressed as Medusa and her long locks are styled to look like the snakes on top of her head. Her green dress glitters and has the appearance of scales that really bring her costume together. You say something about her hair, and she just smiles before she turns her attention to Wanda. 

“Thanks! I think that you win the coolest hair though. I was dying to wear pink but couldn’t make it work with this outfit.” 

She holds out a hand to Wanda who doesn’t hesitate to take it as she slips into her unthreatening wife-of-a-doctor persona. 

“I’m Meghan one of the vet assistants. It’s nice to meet you.” 

Wanda nods in agreement which you can tell is genuine. Of all the assistants at work, you talked about Meghan the most because she was usually a huge help on days you were there. You have to stop yourself from reacting when Wanda speaks up. 

“Linda. It’s nice to meet you too. Y/n has nothing but good things to say about you.” 

You watch in amusement as Megan blushes before she hurries to change the subject. She’s still so shy, and she tends to underestimate her value. She reminds you of someone else you know. 

“Oh, thank you. Now I have to ask since I know a bit about Dr. Y/l/n’s taste in music, but was the costume your idea or hers?”

You try not to flush at the question and the follow up questions that you’re sure your wife will ask. If not now, later. You usually mention your surgery days if they’re especially interesting, but you don’t think you’ve ever told Wanda about if they’re more relaxed. On these days, depending on who else is working, you’ll have music playing in the surgery suite, and sometimes your tastes are all over the place.

The last surgery day where you’d just had 5 dog neuters in a row, you’d been listening to early 2000’s pop. 

When you see Wanda smile wickedly, you know what’s about to happen. You’re just grateful that she chose Meghan to confide in because you’re certain you would have died of embarrassment if she’d told anyone else this. 

You watch Wanda lean in as if she’s telling a secret before she thoroughly throws you under the bus. 

“If I didn’t know better, I’d be a little insulted that she spent nearly two weeks watching all of Lady Gaga’s and Brittney Spears's music videos to figure out my outfit.” 

From Meghan’s expression, you can see that the brunette can’t tell if Wanda’s joking. She quickly clears this up though as she shrugs and offers the younger woman a smile.

“I’d already thought of an idea myself, but I didn’t want to spoil her fun. I’m just glad she didn’t ask me to dress up as a dog or something.” 

Meghan laughs as you roll your eyes because seriously? You wouldn’t waste the opportunity to dress up your wife by putting her in a dog suit that drowned her. You suppose that putting her in that costume would have helped hide her identity, but you hadn’t wanted to do it like that. Selfishly, you wanted to show her off. You wanted people to see how beautiful and smart and kind your wife was. 

Maybe not so kind right now, but that was fine. You could take what she dished out. 

“That’s hilarious! I’m actually surprised she didn’t bring either of your dogs tonight. The costume she made Boone for Halloween was so cute!”

You had to admit that you’d done a pretty good job with his costume. You’d worked on Halloween and you hadn’t wanted to dress up, but you definitely hadn’t passed on the opportunity to put Boone in a cute outfit. You had dressed him up as a dogtor because it was practically expected. He had his own little white coat that you’d fitted out of one of your own. You gave him a fake stethoscope and bought him scrubs that wouldn’t be too hard to tailor to fit him. You’d honestly put in an entire weekend getting it together, but you didn’t regret it at all. Even when Boone peed in it because you’d overlooked one crucial detail. 

“Did she tell you how long she spent on it? Hours! I thought she was just going to buy something to have him carry around, but I honestly should have known better.” 

As your wife and Meghan laugh and talk about you like you’re not there, you glance around the room curiously. You’ve met most of the people here already and you’re honestly getting a little tired. Tonight, has been a lot, and despite having fun, you can tell that your social battery has drained a lot since walking through the front door. You find your host and smile at the sight of her talking to a Velma and Daphne. You take another sip of your drink, but you stop short when something fuzzy brushes against your leg. You look down and see a small tortie staring at you. Your smile widens as you kneel to scratch the purring cat.

“Wan—Um Lin, look a cat!” 

Wanda looks down at you a little startled, but this quickly melts away when she sees the furry creature head butting your knees. She offers a small smile before she shakes her head with an adoring look that makes you glad that it’s too dark for anyone to see you blush from down here. 

“Cute. Leave it to you to find a cat to hang out with.” 

You start slightly when the cat jumps onto your knees, but you recover quickly and scoop her up into your arms. You scratch beneath her chin as you come face to face with your wife who is such a big faker sometimes that you can’t help but point it out. 

“Yes, cats are the worst. I don’t know how you even have one when you can’t stand them.” 

The teasing tone is the only reason that Wanda doesn’t start an argument right here in the middle of a party. She reaches out to scratch the adorable cat who’s getting fur all over you as she glances at you before sparing Meghan a look. She can’t have the brunette thinking that she actually hates cats. She’s married to a vet for Dog’s sake. 

“You’re one to talk, detka. Fletcher knows I love her and that’s why I’m the favorite.” 

Meghan snickers at this and you’re temporarily distracted by the pet name that you didn’t think Wanda would risk using here. You just sigh and smile dopily as the cat that has basically adopted you starts to play with Wanda’s bowtie. Her claws sink into it and she bites it furiously until it starts to give. You consider rescuing your wife, but she looks the most relaxed she’s been since walking in here, so you let it go on for her sake. 

You hear someone call Meghan’s name, and you turn to see another couple of assistants with what look like shot glasses. You’re so grateful to be out of your twenties. Meghan gives them the universal sign of ‘one second’ before she turns back to you with a smile. 

“Duty calls. It was good seeing you. Have fun with Misty.” 

You realize belatedly that this is the cat that Wanda’s still snuggling with, and you grin before something occurs to you.

“Have fun with all that alcohol. Find me before you leave? I brought the many pins you let me borrow last week.” 

Your costume, although cute, had been close to falling apart when Boone kept tripping over his stethoscope. Meghan had come to your rescue with nearly 10 bobby pins that you’d only realized you’d forgotten to return when you arrived home that night.

Meghan nods in agreement, and waves goodbye to Wanda before she’s off. You and Wanda are left alone, relatively speaking, with Misty the cat.

“She’s lovely.” 

You figure that Wanda’s talking about Meghan, and not the cat, but you can’t be sure. You only nod in agreement before reaching out to free one of Misty’s claws from the crumbling bowtie. Wanda smiles at you and then her eyes widen in surprise when Misty turns toward you and starts to swat at your face. Or more specifically your hat. 

“Y/n, she’s --.” 

You don’t have time to flee before Misty reaches out her paw for the feather that’s tucked beneath the goggles on your hat. You curse and try not to freak out when suddenly you have a cat clinging to your hat and hanging in front of your face. Wanda reaches out to grab her and you’re carefully, but quickly extricating yourself from your hat when hear laughing. 

You have an armful of cat in your hat by the time you realize your boss has come to your rescue. You see Claire walking toward you with Bill—Rick, who has a feather toy in hand. You try not to feel ridiculous as you drop to the floor and try to roll Misty onto the carpet. 

“I should have warned you, Y/n. She’s obsessed with feathers.”

You laugh despite thinking ‘no shit’, but you breathe a sigh of relief when the tortie spots her favorite toy and leaves your hat on the ground with nothing but a lot of fur to show for it. 

You stand up and brush out your hat as much as possible before you shoot the blonde a smile. 

“To be fair, I shouldn’t have to be warned about that.” 

You and Wanda take a moment to gather yourselves. After you help her untie her ruined bowtie, and leave it hanging from her neck in a way that’s somehow even hotter, she puts your hat back on your head.

“You’re so cute, Y/n.” 

You want to defend yourself because you’re sure Wanda’s poking fun at you, but you don’t get a chance. Wanda carefully leans in and presses her lips to yours in a soft kiss. She figures that it was worth it when you pull away a little dazed and free of the black streaks that cover her own lips. She smiles at you again before reaching out to grab your gloved hands. She brushes the cat hair off of them and your corset before she sighs inaudibly.

“Are you having fun?” 

Wanda asks this a bit later after you’ve finished your drinks and met a few more people. It’s nearing 10 o’clock and you’re honestly ready to leave. You figure you need to find the host before you duck out, but you decide to take a couple of minutes to hold your wife close where you’re settled on one of the loveseats. You are surrounded by people, but you only pay attention to Wanda who’s pressed into your side and leaning her head against your shoulder. 

You eventually nod before looking around for Claire. You don’t see her immediately, but you’re not too worried. She’s been an impeccable host as always, so you’re certain she’ll catch you right as you head for the door. 

“I am, but I’m getting tired. We better get home before I don’t have the energy to take all of this off.” 

Wanda opens her eyes when you say this and she spares your outfit a glance, as if she hasn’t been looking at it all night, and hums. She makes sure no one is within earshot before she offers you a smile. 

“I wouldn’t worry about that, Y/n. I’d be happy to help you.” 

You don’t doubt this, and you smirk before summoning the energy to sit up. You suddenly want to be home. 

“That’s very thoughtful of you. I would of course, love to return the favor.” 

Wanda laughs at you as you stand up and hold out a hand to help her to her feet. She grabs it and you tug her to her feet fast enough to make her yelp in surprise. She shoots you a glare when you laugh at her, and she makes a point of dropping your hand and walking away without looking back. You roll your eyes with a smile before you hurry after her obediently and meet her in the kitchen where Claire’s reappeared. She’s collecting dishes and stacking them in the sink for later when she spots the two of you. 

“Hey, calling it a night?” 

You smile before you nod and glance around the cluttered kitchen. There are glasses, cups, bottles, and plates everywhere. Wanda stands behind you, likely surveying the area with a similar intention.

“We were, but we wanted to see if we could help with anything before we headed out.” 

It took a bit of convincing, but you’d helped throw out some of the bottles and get the dishes loaded into the dishwasher before you were being shooed out of the kitchen. You hugged the other doctor again before thanking her for hosting. You and Wanda are near the front door before you remember what you’d told Meghan. You mention that you’ll grab them from the car and bring them back in, and Claire simply nods before claiming that she’ll give them to her for you. 

You keep chatting as you walk to your car with Wanda, and you vaguely register the presence of other cars as you duck into the passenger side and reach for the console. 

“Here they are. Thank her for--.”

“Freeze! Don’t move!”

You jump in surprise and then nearly stumble back in terror as you turn and see someone pointing a gun at you. They’re standing by the street but they’re crossing the lawn in quick, purposeful steps. You stiffen and faintly register Wanda gripping your arm tightly as she pulls you back against her. 

“Y/n.” 

She realizes before you do that this person isn’t a threat. They’re dressed as a cop and they’re not even looking at you or her. Their focus is on Claire who’s already scowling at the new arrival. Wanda doesn’t know who this is, but that’s less important to her than addressing your obvious anxiety. 

“Campbell what the hell are you doing here?” 

The brunette with the fake gun leers before he closes the distance between them in a hug that Claire looks like she’d refuse if she could.

“Don’t be like that Sis. I’m here for the party.” 

You’re just starting to breathe again as you watch the exchange play out with a dull sense of awareness that’s clouded by your anxiety. You try to shake your shock, but it’s hard and you’re still looking terrified when the duo turns back to you. 

“You’re about three hours late for that, but go on. Rick’s inside.”

Campbell is about to head inside, but he spares you and Wanda a look first. You’re not sure what he planned on saying, but the look on your face must be enough to clue him in. Wanda bites back a curse and you flinch at the question and the unwanted attention.

“Shit, you okay?” 

Claire turns to you and you force yourself to speak before she gets a chance. You’re not even sure if you’d decided what to say before the words are falling out of your mouth. 

“Fine. You startled me, is all.” 

You see the exact moment that Claire gets it, and you have to stop yourself from recoiling in shame. It would have been impossible to get off work for so long without disclosing to your boss what happened to you. At least the extent of your injuries. When you’d been kidnapped from work and then hurt by Rumlow, well you’d taken months off of work. You’d been in the hospital for a while, and even though you can’t be sure because of all the drugs you were on, you think that Claire visited you.

You’d told her later that you’d been shot, and despite returning to work without any complications, the incident stuck with you. It was impossible to ignore the effect of the traumatic experience.

Even months later, the idea of someone pointing a gun at you nearly threw you into a panic attack. 

You feel Wanda press herself against your back as an arm circles your waist, but you can’t relax. Not yet. 

“Campbell go inside. I’ll be there in a minute.” 

Her brother looks like he wants to argue but instead he just shrugs and heads out. He says something to you that you completely miss along with Wanda smiling politely in response, but you can’t bring yourself to care right now. You’re in survival mode and you immediately work out how you can get out of here as quickly as possible. You glance up at Claire before your gaze darts to the front door where you see Campbell disappearing. Someone’s standing in the doorway though and you nearly curse when you see Meghan looking confused.

You nearly shove the bobby pins that you miraculously held onto into the blonde’s hand with a pained smile.

“Here you go. Thank you again for tonight.” 

Wanda’s reaching into your pocket for the car keys, but you barely notice as you watch a range of emotions play out on your boss’s face. Concern, confusion, and then understanding.

“Are you going to be alright?” 

You manage to make your smile appear a little more genuine before you nod and manage a quick one-armed hug before ducking into your car. 

“I’ll be fine. Thank you.” 

You wait until Wanda says her goodbyes and gets into the driver’s seat before you take a deep breath. You watch in the rearview mirror as Claire hesitates for a moment before turning around and heading back into the house. If you had to guess Campbell’s going to get an earful, but you can’t think about that right now. You watch both her and Meghan disappear into the house before you realize that Wanda’s holding your hand. She’s started the car, but she’s turned toward you with a concerned look. She reaches out for you, but she stops short when you flinch. 

“Y/n, I’m sorry he scared you. I’m not sorry that Claire’s going to chew him out for it, but he didn’t know. He’s not a threat to either of us, okay?” 

You just nod a couple of times as you try to process what she’s said. You take a deep breath before removing your hat and holding it in your lap. You feel like you can’t breathe deeply enough in this outfit, and you really want to get home so you can take it off. Wanda seems to realize your dilemma as you start to take slow deep breaths. She buckles up and starts off down the street toward home. 

“Let me get you home, so I can take care of you.”

You crack a smile at this and you can’t help but sneak another look at your wife’s suit. Damn you hope she wears it again after this. You fiddle with your hat for a moment before you clear your throat. 

“I seem to remember you promised to help me take all of this off. Is that still on the table?” 

Wanda rolls her eyes at the question despite the fact that she’s glad to hear you ask. She doesn’t think that what you’d originally intended is still on the table, but she’ll just have to see what happens. Usually anything that triggers your anxiety like this leads to overwhelming exhaustion shortly after. 

Either way, she’s happy to do whatever you need to feel better. She doesn’t want tonight to be tainted by this incident. She’s glad she came out with you, and she’s even happier that you seemed to have fun. She would have to do some serious damage control, but hopefully dressing down, cuddling, and spending time with your fur babies will be enough. 

“We’ll see, detka.”

Masterlist

[authorhjk1]

If you could sign an SNSD for each of the Vixen Media Group porn sites, who would you sign?

Taeyeon

for Blacked Raw

Taeyeon has always been a fan of big cocks. She might be small, but that's what excites her even more. At first, she didn't care about who fucked her on camera as long as someone did fuck her. But overtime, her preferences has shifted over towards black cocks. That's why she's now Blacked Raw's number one star.

Jessica

for Vixen

With Jessica it's all about luxury and long build ups. Most of her videos have a proper storyline with multiple sex scenes. It's not that cheap cliche porn plot either. Most people might skip the long build ups, hoping for an amazing time, which is of course guaranteed, but the people who really know her, know it's best to just go with the flow and watch how Jessica acts her heart out every single time, before she gets fucked in an expensive hotel, at the beach, or a museum.

Sunny

for Slayed

Sunny isn't purely into women and has her fair share of videos where a man makes her eyes roll to the back of her head. But for some reason, she seemed to be the perfect fit. If you want to watch two, three, four or even more women getting each other off, a video including Sunny should be your pick. She's guaranteed to make her female costars lose their minds during their orgasms and looks just as sexy when she cums as well.

Tiffany

for Vixen

Tiffany is similar to Jessica in terms of luxury porn. Everything has to be expensive and fancy and she always seems to be a wife of a rich husband or a billionaire herself. But instead of long, sometimes even complicated storylines, it's all about cheating with Tiffany. It doesn't matter where and when or with whom. She might play a millionaire's wife and the video is set in their luxurious villa, but she is still getting plowed like a cheap whore by her husband's gardener in the middle of their living room.

Hyoyeon

for Blacked

At the beginning of her career, Hyoyeon didn't care who fucked her, or how she got fucked. She liked to do everything, but she was always dreaming of something. She always wanted to try out the set of red, or white or black underwear with the word Blacked all over it. And now, for the last couple of years, she has been wearing it with pride. She finally got what she wanted and is now the number one model for Blacked.

Yuri

for Tushy

Yuri never tried anal before getting into porn and even then it took a while, until she finally had her first anal scene. To her own surprise, she loved every second of it. And after doing it a couple of times afterwards, she slowly started to get really into it. And now, Yuri is the star if you want to watch a hot woman getting her ass fucked. She eventually got into toys as well and now almost every single video of hers includes some kind of toy. If the simple plot allows, she will wear a butt plug, even before the shoot even starts.

Sooyoung

for Deeper

Sometimes, Sooyoung seems to be two different people in one body. She has the perfect attitude and body to be the one who punishes you all night long, but can also be the one who tries to hold in her deepest moan as she gets fucked while being bent over in some library. She likes to tie her costars up just as much as she likes being tied up herself. Ropes, ties, blindfolds, collars, everything goes. Although sometimes, she needs a little push to get herself into the more submissive position. That's why it's so much fun to watch her getting spanked at the beginning of a sex scene. You can watch yourself how she gets wetter with every spank. How she begins to beg for more, everytime someone's hand hits her butt cheeks.

Yoona

for Milfy

It obviously took her a while, until Yoona finally got to where she is now. You can't just start out as a MILF pornstar at any age. And despite Yoona still looking so young, her videos have been watched thousands of times. Especially by men who are younger than her. And she has done any role there is. Stepmother, step aunt, teacher, the boss's wife, the rich sugar mommy and your best friend's mother. It's all about how caring she is and genuinely seems to be interested in roles she is playing. She always had a thing for younger guys herself, that's why she already made a name for herself as the older stepsister, until she finally got signed by Milfy.

Seohyun

for Tushy Raw

Seohyun is widely known for being impatient. She often potrays the younger stepsister or stepdaughter, but can also be the cute, bratty neighbor. Tushy Raw is her thing, because there isn't much build up and she can get straight to getting her ass fucked in some dimly lit hotel room. There isn't any focus on a lot of plot or anything, she just enjoys the raw fucking. Not just during a shoot but also afterwards. Seohyun loves to watch her own videos to get herself off at home. The feeling of watching herself getting fucked on all fours, staring back at herself through the camera makes her orgasm every time when she's alone.

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

I think of mc being very protective of her friends being a orphan and all. someone says the gaunts are all dark wizards? they are in the hospital wing for two weeks under strange circumstances. someone starts a nasty rumor about why Anne really left hogwarts? The worst tripping hex gets everyone who repeats the rumor. someone insults sebastian, you better pray that mc didn't hear about it she's coming for you

The Things We Do for Family | Sebastian Sallow x Reader

oh I loooooved this concept!!!! THANK YOU FOR THE ASK, ANON. I really hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing it!! :')

Words: ~5,200

Tags: Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, No Hogwarts House, Humor, Protective MC

There are things that Hogwarts students simply know—unchallenged truths, whispered warnings passed down from year to year.

The Forbidden Forest is dangerous. Peeves is a menace. The best snacks at Honeydukes sell out by Saturday afternoon. Don’t trust the staircases to take you where you actually want to go. Never accept Garreth Weasley’s offer to ‘test something out’.

And, under no circumstances, should anyone fuck with your friends.

It isn’t official, of course. There’s no school decree, no printed rule in the Hogwarts handbook, it's not carved into the walls. It’s just… understood.

It’s not like you’re some fearsome monster or anything.

You’re a model student, by all accounts. Brilliant. Sharp. Precise. A skilled duelist, a quick thinker, someone who turns in their assignments on time, answers when called on, and doesn’t cause disruptions in class.

You don’t start fights. You don’t pick pointless arguments. You don’t openly break the rules—not in ways that can be proven.

You play the part well.

Because that’s what you had to do.

You grew up alone. No parents. No siblings. No one to step in when things got hard, no one to defend you when the world was cruel. When you were small, scared, and helpless.

So you learned.

You learned that no one was coming to save you. You learned that fairness was a lie, that justice only existed when you carved it out with your own hands. You learned that people could be awful for no reason other than that they could get away with it.

But now? Now, you have a family. Not by blood, but by choice.

And when someone speaks against them? Bad things happen.

The Ominis Incident

It started, as most things did, with a careless remark.

A fifth-year Ravenclaw—smart but not particularly bright—thought it would be amusing to make a joke at Ominis Gaunt’s expense. A cruel one. Something about how the Gaunts were all inbred lunatics, how it was only a matter of time before Ominis ended up just like the rest of his family.

The words reached your ears in the library, drifting from a table not far from where you sat.

"You know I hear they torture Muggles for fun—it’s practically a family tradition. Gaunts don’t have hobbies, just a long history of inbreeding and Crucio."

Laughter followed, a few snickers from their table, hushed but not nearly enough. Not nearly enough to keep you from hearing.

Your quill stilled mid-word, ink pooling in place. Across from you, Ominis sat straight-backed, his expression unreadable, but you saw the way his fingers tightened around the book he was holding, knuckles whitening from the force of it.

He wouldn’t say anything.

Ominis had spent years perfecting the art of indifference. Of carefully controlled expressions, of blank politeness that masked far too much. He never reacted to comments like these.

But just because he wouldn’t didn’t mean you wouldn’t.

You exhaled slowly, carefully. Then, without a sound, you closed your book and stood.

Not a word. Not a glare in their direction. Just a smooth, effortless departure, as if you had suddenly decided the library was boring and somewhere else required your attention.

The Ravenclaws barely noticed.

But they would. They absolutely would. Because Potions class was a very dangerous place. Especially for people who talked too much.

The next day, you walked to Potions without a care in the world.

Sebastian and Ominis flanked you, deep in conversation about some essay Sharp had assigned, with Sebastian whining dramatically about how unfairly long it was, while Ominis countered that perhaps he should have started it earlier than the night before it was due.

You weren’t really listening, because you already knew what was coming.

And sure enough—just as you reached the dungeon corridor—

BOOM.

The floor trembled slightly beneath your feet. A deep, echoing explosion, the unmistakable sound of a cauldron detonating mid-brew, followed almost immediately by the frantic shouting of students.

Gasps. Choking coughs. Someone let out a screech of absolute horror.

Sebastian and Ominis startled.

Sebastian’s head snapped up, eyes wide as he looked toward the dungeon doors. “What the hell—”

Ominis twitched beside you, tilting his head, as if straining to listen.

You? Didn’t even blink. You just kept walking, calmly, like nothing was amiss, like you hadn’t been expecting it for the last twenty-four hours.

Sebastian noticed. His gaze sharpened, flicking to you with a knowing squint. “That was—”

He hesitated. Then narrowed his eyes further.

“Okay,” he said slowly, “I know that face.”

You raised a brow. “What face?”

“That’s your I-did-something-but-you’ll-never-prove-it face.”

You tilted your head, feigning confusion. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Sebastian scoffed and Ominis rolled his eyes, deadpan. “Uh-huh.”

Then the dungeon doors burst open.

A thick cloud of green smoke billowed out, sending students stumbling and coughing into the corridor. And in the center of it all, a group of very, very green Ravenclaws.

They clawed at their own skin, staring down at their hands in absolute horror. Their faces were the exact shade of an overripe toadstool, splotchy and uneven, and every time they opened their mouths, their tongues flopped out two inches too long.

Hysteria ensued.

Students gasped, some shrieked, others tried not to laugh. Professor Sharp stormed out after them, looking beyond exhausted, already massaging his temples.

“I told you,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose, “not to add the peppermint extract.”

“WE DIDN’T!” One Ravenclaw wailed, voice garbled from their too-long tongue. “I—I don’t know what happened! We did everything right!”

Sharp did not look convinced.

Sebastian looked at you, long and slow, a glint of admiration dawning in his eyes.

“Did you—”

“I did nothing.” You walked past him, as if the entire debacle were none of your concern. “I was with you all day, wasn’t I?”

Sebastian’s lips twitched. “Yeah, but—”

“No proof, no crime.” You gave him a cheerful smile before stepping into the classroom.

Sebastian grinned. “Oh, I love you.”

It was offhanded, thoughtless, a casual jest, but it sent a sharp, pleasant warmth down your spine.

You didn’t react, though. Just smirked, settling into your seat. Because the message had been sent.

And Ominis Gaunt would never hear a word against his name again.

The Anne Incident

Rumors at Hogwarts were a force of nature.

They swirled through the halls, slipping between whispered conversations and behind cupped hands, growing more twisted with each retelling.

Some were harmless—who was dating who, which professor had it out for which student, the occasional Did you hear Peeves stole all the ink from the Ravenclaws again? But some? Some were cruel.

And this one... this one was about Anne Sallow.

It started at breakfast, when you overheard a group of Slytherin sixth-years in the Great Hall. You weren’t eavesdropping—not intentionally—but you had a habit of noticing things, of hearing too much when you weren’t meant to.

"Did you hear about Sallow’s sister?"

"Yeah, I heard she went mad."

"Lost it completely. The curse must’ve rotted her brain."

"That’s why she left, isn’t it?"

"Yeah, I heard she tried to hex someone in her sleep—"

Your fork warped in your grasp. A slow, controlled bend beneath your fingers, the metal bending in your grip.

Across from you, Sebastian had gone still.

He didn’t turn. Didn’t react. Didn’t give them the satisfaction.

But you saw the way his jaw clenched. The way his hand curled into a fist against the table. The way his entire body had gone taut, locked in place by sheer force of will.

He wouldn’t do anything.

Not because he didn’t want to. Not because he wasn’t capable of it—because he was.

Sebastian Sallow could be ruthless. You knew that better than anyone. You’d seen it firsthand, the sharp edges of his temper, the way his rage burned hot and all-consuming, leaving nothing but wreckage in its wake. You’d seen what happened when he felt cornered, when he thought he was out of options.

But he wasn’t that boy anymore. Because you and Ominis had dragged him back from the brink. Because you had looked him in the eye, years ago, when the dust had settled and the worst of it was over, and told him:

"You still have a future. Don’t throw it away."

Against all odds, he had listened. And now, this was his last year at Hogwarts and he was going to be an Auror. He was going to start over. Prove that he wasn’t just some reckless, violent delinquent one step away from Azkaban.

So no—he wouldn’t react. He wouldn’t take the bait. Wouldn't defend Anne, no matter how badly he wanted to. Wouldn’t let himself be dragged down into the same pit he’d barely crawled out of.

Sebastian was playing the long game.

But you? You weren’t.

Your revenge on Anne's behalf started small. Almost imperceptible.

The first Slytherin—the one who had started the conversation in the first place—was walking to class when it happened.

A single misstep.

His foot caught on something—thin air, perhaps—and he staggered forward, arms flailing in a desperate attempt to right himself. It didn’t work. His books went flying, parchment scattered across the stone corridor, and a bottle of ink tumbled from his bag, shattering upon impact and staining his robes in an ugly, irreversible mess of black.

A small accident. An unfortunate case of bad luck.

No one thought anything of it—until the second one fell.

In the exact same spot.

And then the third. And the fourth.

By the time lunch rolled around, all four of them had tripped at least half a dozen times each.

It wasn’t just limited to the corridor, either. They stumbled on staircases, barely catching themselves before they could go tumbling down. They walked straight into walls as if the castle itself had turned against them. One even managed to trip over absolutely nothing in the middle of the Great Hall and landed face-first into his own soup.

The snickers started soon after. The sideways glances. The poorly hidden laughter from classmates who found their sudden clumsiness far too entertaining.

It wasn’t enough to be suspicious.

Not yet.

Not until the moving staircase.

The ringleader of the group had spent too much time lingering in the courtyard after lunch, chatting up a group of girls who barely tolerated his presence. He realized too late that he was running behind and bolted toward Charms, racing up the moving staircases with zero grace and even less caution.

And then his foot caught.

There was nothing there. No loose stone or shift in the staircase, nothing at all to explain why he suddenly lost his footing.

But he did.

He stumbled backward, arms flailing wildly, fingers grasping at empty air as the momentum carried him too far—

And he plummeted.

Three flights.

A blur of robes and limbs, a crash of bone against stone, and then a sickening thud as he landed in a groaning, crumpled heap at the bottom.

A hush fell over the corridor.

Then—

Shrieking.

His friends rushed down to him, voices panicked, eyes wide with horrified realization as they took in his bruised, trembling form.

A girl ran to fetch Madam Blainey.

By the time she arrived, he was whimpering, clutching his arm like it might’ve snapped.

Hospital Wing. Immediate bed rest.

No one could explain what happened. No professor could find a cause. Some students claimed the stairs had shifted unexpectedly. Others swore that they saw nothing—no trick step, no loose stones, just an unseen force pulling him down.

It didn’t matter.

The moment he was carried off, you finally allowed yourself to smile.

Not a smirk. Not a grin. Just the smallest, most satisfied twitch of your lips.

Sebastian caught it. Because of course he did. He had been standing beside you the whole time. Silent. Still. Watching from the moment that asshole Slytherin stumbled earlier that morning to the moment he was carted off for medical attention.

And now? Now, he just exhaled, long and slow, shaking his head as his mouth curved into something unreadable.

“You’re dangerous,” he murmured, voice low.

You hummed, tilting your head in faux curiosity. “Am I?”

Sebastian turned fully then, facing you. His gaze searched your face, for guilt perhaps. For remorse. For something that might suggest you hadn’t meant for it to happen.

But there was nothing.

No trace of hesitation. No flicker of shame.

You were calm, collected, an completely unapologetic. Because nobody talked about Anne Sallow like that without consequence.

Sebastian blinked. Then, to your absolute delight, he grinned. Wide. Slow. A sharp, wicked thing.

“Yeah. You're very dangerous” he said, almost in awe.

Your stomach twisted. You ignored it. Instead, you just shrugged, voice as casual as ever.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sebastian’s grin deepened.

The Poppy Incident

Poppy Sweeting was one of the best people you knew.

Kind-hearted, patient, and too good for the world, really. She spent more time in the company of magical creatures than she did with most people, and honestly? You couldn't blame her.

Because people could be cruel.

You first heard it one afternoon in the courtyard. A group of girls whispering amongst themselves, giggling behind their hands. You hadn’t been paying much attention—until you heard her name.

"Honestly, she’s weird."

"I know, right? It’s like she’d rather date a bloody Hippogriff than an actual person."

"Wouldn’t be surprised if she actually has."

Laughter, sharp and mocking. Like Poppy Sweeting was a joke. Like she was less than because she chose kindness over cruelty, creatures over people who didn’t deserve her time in the first place.

You turned your head and watched as one girl—a Hufflepuff, ironically—rolled her eyes, shaking her head in exaggerated exasperation.

"Beast-lover," she muttered, nose wrinkled like the word itself was distasteful. "It's unnatural, really. No wonder she doesn't have any friends outside of her precious Mooncalves."

Something cold and sharp settled in your chest.

You had no doubt Poppy had heard it. She was standing just a few paces away near the fountain, hands clenched tight at her sides.

She didn’t react. Didn’t turn. Didn’t say anything. She just exhaled, slow and quiet, like she was forcing herself to let it go.

You wouldn’t.

The next morning, that very same Hufflepuff woke up covered in fur.

Not all over, just her face.

A thick, fluffy coat of golden-brown fuzz, soft as a Puffskein, sprouting in wild patches across her forehead, cheeks, and chin.

According to Poppy, the screams started immediately, and the entire girls dormitory had woken up to it.

The girl, who turned out to be a fifth-year, had flown into a hysterical panic, shrieking as she bolted for a mirror, hands frantically scrubbing at her face like she could rub the fur away.

She couldn’t.

It was a very specific hex. One that lasted exactly one week.

Professor Ronen was baffled.

Madam Blainey was thoroughly fascinated.

And Professor Howin, bless her, had cooed over her like she was the most adorable thing she’d ever seen. You had a front row seat to the entire thing during Beasts class.

“This is truly fascinating,” she’d said, holding the girl’s chin and turning her face slightly toward the light. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen transfiguration manifest quite like this! And so soft—feels just like a Kneazle’s coat, doesn’t it?”

The best part? It wasn’t harmful. It wasn’t painful. Just… humiliating.

You considered it a job well done.

When Howin had dismissed you for lunch, Poppy pulled you aside. She didn't say anything at first. Just stared.

You blinked at her, tilting your head. “Everything alright?”

Poppy squinted. Narrowed her eyes slightly. Huffed.

"You did that, didn’t you?"

You blinked again.

Because Poppy—sweet, gentle, pacifist Poppy—did not accuse people of things. Which meant she was completely certain.

You just smiled, giving her your most innocent expression. “I have no idea what you mean.”

Poppy just sighed, shaking her head. But then—just for a moment—she smiled.

Small. Subtle. Grateful.

Like she knew exactly what you’d done. Like she knew there was no use arguing, no point in telling you not to go to such lengths for her.

And then, without a word, she reached out and squeezed your hand.

The Natsai Incident

You had never liked Callum Thorne.

Seventh-year. Gryffindor. Arrogant. Loud-mouthed. The kind of person who had never been told no in his life and walked through Hogwarts like the world owed him something.

You’d tolerated him for years, mostly because you hadn’t needed to interact with him much. But this? This was different.

You were starting the day with Defense Against the Dark Arts. Professor Hecat had yet to arrive, leaving the class unsupervised and giving Thorne the perfect opportunity to make a scene.

Natty was speaking with Poppy near the front of the room, voice calm as she explained something about the Ministry’s policies on magical creatures in Africa compared to Britain. She wasn’t being loud, wasn’t even arguing, just explaining.

That’s when Thorne scoffed.

“Merlin’s sake, Onai, give it a rest,” he sneered from the back of the room, tossing his quill onto his desk with an exaggerated huff. “Do you ever get tired of standing on that bloody soapbox of yours?”

The room went still.

Natty turned, slow and deliberate, her expression unreadable, regarding him with that same poised, unshaken calm that made her such a force to be reckoned with.

“I was simply having a discussion,” she said smoothly. “No one is forcing you to listen, Thorne.”

“Right,” he drawled. “Except you never shut up about it. Always talking about ‘justice’ and ‘change’ like you think you’re going to fix the whole bloody world.” He smirked. “News flash, Onai—no one cares.”

A few of his friends chuckled.

Your fingernails dug into your palm.

Natty didn’t react—not outwardly, anyway. She just exhaled, slow and measured, and turned back to Poppy like his words had been nothing more than an inconvenience.

You? You were already plotting his downfall, and luckily, Callum Thorne was a creature of habit.

He always stayed out after curfew to flirt with whatever unfortunate girl he had chosen that week, and he always went up to the Astronomy Tower afterwards with his friends to play cards and drink whatever contraband alcohol they’d smuggled into the castle.

Which made him the perfect target.

That night, as the seventh-year tidied up the cards, stretching and yawning, likely already thinking about his warm bed waiting for him—

His legs froze in place. Not a Full Body-Bind. No, this was different.

A soft, subtle hex. A slow, creeping sensation, his feet adhering to the stone beneath him, then his calves, then his thighs.

By the time he realized something was wrong, it was too late.

He tried to step forward—failed. Tried to yank himself free—failed.

And then—with agonizing slowness—his entire body began to lift off the ground. No warning. No control.

He drifted upward, weightless, helpless, arms flailing as the stone ceiling came closer and closer—

And then, with a soft thump, he was stuck. Face-down, body pressed flat against the Astronomy Tower ceiling.

His screaming started immediately.

Loud. Panicked. A complete meltdown.

His friends, who had started their walk down the tower came bolting back up the stairs at the sound of his shouting.

“What the—?” one of them started, eyes wide as they gawked at the ceiling.

“Thorne?” another asked, dumbfounded.

You bit the inside of your cheek, holding back laughter as you hid beneath your disillusionment charm.

“GET ME DOWN!” Thorne bellowed, arms and legs flailing uselessly against the stone. “WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS THIS?”

His friends stared, uselessly waving their wands, muttering counterspells that only resulted in Thorne spinning in slow circles, howling in distress.

When they realized they were utterly helpless, panic completely set in.

“What do we do?” one of them asked, looking between the others with wild eyes. “Should we get a professor?”

Thorne snarled. “NO! DO NOT—”

But it was too late. Because at that very moment, the Astronomy Tower door swung open once again, and a very tired, very unimpressed Professor Shah stepped inside.

There was a long, painful beat of silence.

Shah took in the scene.

The stack of contraband firewhiskey bottles on the table. The panicked seventh-years, wands still drawn, looking entirely too guilty. And Callum Thorne, still face-down, circling against the ceiling, hissing every curse word known to wizardkind.

She sighed, long and slow, as if she had simply had enough of this entire generation of students. Then, with an effortless flick of her wand, she cast a single spell.

And gravity returned. All at once. Thorne plummeted like a sack of bricks.

The landing was spectacular. A glorious, sprawling heap, limbs tangled, robes askew, one shoe missing entirely. His friends didn’t even try to catch him.

For a moment, there was only silence. Then—

“Hospital Wing,” Shah said simply, rubbing her temples. “Now.”

Thorne was half-carried, half-dragged down the tower steps, groaning the entire way.

And you?

You slept soundly that night.

By morning, half the school had heard the story.

"Did you hear about Thorne? Got stuck to the Astronomy Tower ceiling last night."

"He was crying by the time they got him down."

"Serves him right—bloke’s a complete asshole."

And you? You sat perfectly composed at breakfast, casually stirring your tea, listening as his friends panicked about who could have done it.

Sebastian, of course, knew.

He sat beside you, arms folded, lips pressed together, shaking with the effort not to laugh.

Finally, he exhaled, tilting his head toward you.

“You are actually unhinged,” he murmured, utterly delighted.

You simply sipped your tea. “I have no idea what you mean.”

Across the hall, Natty smiled.

Soft. Knowing.

The Sebastian Incident

You had been careful.

For years, you had woven your revenge into the shadows, never once leaving a trace of your involvement in the strange misfortunes that befell those who dared to insult your friends. You were precise, patient, undetectable.

But everyone has a breaking point. And yours? Yours was Sebastian Sallow.

It happened in the Great Hall when Scorpius Malfoy decided to idiotically open his big fucking mouth.

You hadn’t been paying attention to him at first. Why would you? People like Malfoy had never mattered to you. He was just another spoiled pureblood, another self-important waste of a surname who thought his words carried weight simply because he could afford to say them.

But then his voice cut through the din, and he said Sebastian’s name.

"No family name worth a damn, no money, no influence. Honestly, I don’t even know why the professors still put up with Sallow. And he’s an orphan, isn’t he?"

One of his friends nodded, grinning like this was some kind of joke. Like Sebastian Sallow’s entire life was nothing more than a punchline.

Malfoy snorted. "So he's got dead parents, a dead uncle, and a crippled sister who’ll probably never set foot in the wizarding world again. Wouldn’t be surprised if he ends up rotting in the same gutter he came from."

The words landed like a curse.

Sebastian had been mid-conversation with you, fork in hand, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he teased you about something inconsequential—some throwaway joke that would have normally earned him an eye roll and a shove.

But now? Now, he wasn’t moving. Not speaking. Not breathing. Just silent.

Rigid.

Like the weight of those words had turned him into stone.

And something inside you snapped.

It was almost funny, in retrospect, how much effort you had spent perfecting the art of subtlety.

Every step you had taken over the years had been measured, every spell carefully woven into the fabric of coincidence, every act of vengeance so meticulously placed that no one had ever been able to definitively trace it back to you. You had built a flawless reputation, balancing on the razor’s edge between brilliance and menace, justice and mystery.

But now? Now, as you rose from your seat, you weren’t careful at all.

You didn’t move like a shadow, didn’t cloak yourself in misdirection or the comfort of silence. No. This time, you wanted them to see you.

And the moment you stood, the Great Hall stilled.

Students stopped eating, stopped talking, stopped moving altogether. The clatter of plates and goblets faded into a thick, suffocating silence, as if even the walls of Hogwarts itself were holding their breath.

Your voice came out low. Cold.

"Say that one more time, Malfoy."

Scorpius turned lazily, like he hadn’t a care in the world. Like he hadn’t just spat on Sebastian’s entire existence for no other reason than because he could.

And he smirked. Merlin, he smirked. Like you were some insignificant thing, an insect buzzing too close to his ear.

“Oh?” he drawled, tilting his head. “Touched a nerve, have I? Which part got to you, I wonder? The fact that Sallow’s got no family? Or the part where I pointed out that he’s got no future either?”

You took a step forward. You could hear Ominis hissing at you to stop, to think about what you were doing before you got yourself deep into shit, gut you couldn't. Not when it came to your friends.

Not when it came to Sebastian.

Especially when he still hadn't moved. Hadn’t reacted. Hadn’t so much as breathed.

Your hand tightened around your wand, the weight of it comforting, grounding, an extension of the fury curling in your chest.

"You should tread carefully, Scorpius," you murmured, your voice smooth, edged with something lethal. "I know you think you're clever—that you can say whatever you like without consequence, just because you were born into the right family."

Your head tilted slightly, gaze sharp, cutting straight through him.

"But you should know something about me by now."

Malfoy’s smirk faltered just slightly. And then, before he could open his mouth again—

You flicked your wand.

Hard. Fast.

Malfoy's goblet exploded.

A concussive blast of magic sent shards flying, the remnants of his beverage splattering across his pristine uniform like spilled blood. A jagged edge of glass sliced across his hand, thin but deep, and he flinched, eyes snapping down to it with genuine shock.

"If you're going to run your mouth about my friends," you said coolly, watching him clutch his bleeding hand, "then you should be prepared to suffer for it."

Your next spell came before he could react. Before anyone could stop you.

A sharp twist of your wrist, and his mouth was gone.

Not silenced. Not muffled. Just… gone. Smooth, unbroken skin where lips should be, like his voice had simply been erased from existence.

The realization hit him immediately.

His hands shot to his face, clawing at his skin, a muffled scream—horrified, panicked—rising in his throat. He lurched backward, knocking into one of his friends, fingers digging at face like he could carve his lips back into place.

But you weren’t done. Not yet.

You needed something that would etch itself into the bones of this castle, into the minds of every single person watching in stunned silence. Something that told the whole goddamn school that if they so much as breathed wrong about Sebastian again, you would ruin them.

A simple hex would be too merciful. A standard jinx—something temporary, something easily countered—wouldn’t send the right message.

No, you needed something else. Something only you could undo.

Your wand rose, fingers tightening around the handle.

A familiar thrumming sensation curled through your bones, crackling at your fingertips, humming beneath your skin like a storm about to break. Ancient magic—the power that had followed you since the day you first stepped foot in Hogwarts, the magic that had made you different. You had never used it publicly. Never allowed yourself to tap into it in a room full of hundreds of witnesses.

Until now.

Malfoy’s body lurched.

Not by his own will, but by yours, by the ancient, crackling force curling through your veins.

The entire room gasped as he was wrenched upward, his robes twisting violently around him as though an invisible hand had grabbed him by the throat and hauled him into the sky.

He thrashed, or tried to, but the moment he moved, the spell struck.

A jolt of electricity tore through his body.

Not enough to kill. Not enough to cause permanent harm, but enough to make him scream. Or at least, he would have screamed—if he still had a mouth.

Instead, a choked, garbled sound tore from his throat, half agony, half suffocated panic, his limbs seizing as the current snapped down his spine, through his arms and legs.

And you let them watch, let the entire Great Hall bear witness as he hung there, suspended like some grotesque marionette.

And the moment he tried to move again, tried to scratch at where his mouth should be or flail his limbs, another arc of lightning danced across his body, snapping against his skin like a promise that any attempt to fight this would only make it worse.

And he knew. They all knew. He wasn’t getting down until you allowed it. But your arm didn’t waver, you held your wand high, like an executioner delivering final judgment.

Because this? This was a declaration. A statement. A message carved into the very bones of Hogwarts itself.

You do not speak against Sebastian Sallow.

You wondered if he realized that you would have done this a thousand times over. That you would have burned the entire goddamn world for him if he asked.

But before you could do anything more—before you could decide how far you were willing to take this—

A thunderous voice shattered the moment.

"THAT IS ENOUGH!"

The spell snapped. Malfoy dropped. His body crashed onto the table below, sending plates and goblets scattering, silverware clattering to the stone floor. He lay there, twitching, gasping, pathetically small as the last of the magic flickered out of his limbs.

And then—

"You."

Phineas Nigellus Black’s voice was pure ice.

You turned to face him—not a shred of regret, not a flicker of guilt in your expression.

But the Headmaster was raging. His hands were clenched at his sides, his teeth bared in fury.

The entire room was still. Waiting. Holding its breath.

"My office." His voice was low, lethal, like the words themselves were a curse. "Now."

A sharp inhale from someone at the Ravenclaw table. A hushed whisper from a terrified first-year.

No detention. No points docked. Just a direct order from the highest authority in the school.

But it was worth it, because now they knew. Every single person in this room knew.

And as you turned on your heel, heart still pounding with the remnants of power buzzing in your veins—

You caught Sebastian’s eyes one last time.

Still watching, still frozen in place, yet looking at you like you were the most devastating, impossible, extraordinary thing he had ever seen.

And then? The slightest smirk. The most faint, devastatingly admiring grin.

Like he had never, ever wanted anyone more.

[kqutie]

EPIC : THE FAIR MAIDEN (platonic ver.)

CHAPTER ONE : THE HUNGER ENDS

relations. : platonic various epic characters/reader -- platonic odysseus/reader ; platonic polites/reader ; platonic eurylochus/reader ; platonic elpenor/reader ; platonic perimedes/reader ; platonic odysseus' crew/reader

chpt. sum. : The crew get acquainted with your villagers while you discover a stranger washed up on your sandy beaches. You know exactly what to do... poke, poke, poke!

tags. :  female, mute reader ; pure comfort ; reader is a comfort gamer ; animal crossing new horizons game mechanics ; the crew are be simping ; crew have puppy love ; isekai and transmigration ; fix it fic ; characters know their future ; happy ending for everyone!

length. : 8.3k

a/n : Welcome to the pure platonic version of my EPIC: The Fair Maiden series, where I kinda got carried away with my Hermes simp-ery and self-indulgence.

The two versions will read largely the same but this version is for the darlings who don't want the romance and are here purely for comfort. I will do my best to make the two versions distinct, however, so that nobody gets confused and knows exactly what they're in for when choosing the one they would like to read. I WILL be keeping the puppy love aspect of the crew towards the reader though haha! That's too fun of a plot device to take away entirely (๑˃́ꇴ˂̀๑)

navi. | series m.list

Pulling away from your phone, you sigh in content and stretch. EPIC: The Musical had become an obsession of yours and now that it was complete, you were delving into fanmade content; a mix of animatics, fanart and fanfiction. You had just finished reading a fanfic of the characters reacting to their future via the musical before it ever happens. The final chapter ends with all the characters returning to their original places in the universe, eager to avoid the mistakes they have just witnessed leading to their demise and Odysseus’ change from man to monster. 

Before they could be sent back, Odysseus took a moment to lovingly bid his beloved Penelope and only son, Telemachus goodbye while the gods pledge not to interfere with his journey home as long as he doesn’t make the same mistakes. If they should encounter each other again, they will not be courteous and everything will unfold as it had been told to them in the musical. 

The ending left you with a feeling of hope. In the universe of that fanfic, Odysseus will know what to do for a brighter future and you have full confidence in him fulfilling that – he is the warrior of the mind, after all. 

It was still rather cold outside and leading into the evening, you were eager to bundle up in your giant beanbag chair with a blanket to play your favourite comfort game: Animal Crossing: New Horizons. First things first, however, you float into the kitchen to brew some tea and prepare a small plate of snacks. You have a lot of plans for your gaming session tonight. Your island was going under a huge revamp. For your new aesthetic, you’re leaning into a cottage-core theme, something rustic with flourishing wildlife, trees, flowers and beaten paths. You were going to miss your fun, rural town island but you’re very excited about the cosy vibes a countryside theme would bring. You’re sure the change will only elevate the cosiness of the game.

It was going to be a huge undertaking but you’ve paid all your loans, gathered all the recipes, furniture and miscellaneous items, played the DLC, unlocked everything there is to unlock, collected all the fish, bugs and art to display in the museum, and you have an island full of villagers you adore. Revamping the island is the most exciting thing you can do now that you’ve played the game to the fullest. Hence why you were preparing your favourite snacks to have with your best blend of tea. Even though you’ve technically ‘completed’ the game, you’re still eager to play it over and over again. 

When you were finally curled up in your huge beanbag, wrapped in your fluffiest blanket with your tea and snacks on the side table, all you had left to do was put something on in the background; naturally, you chose the ‘EPIC’ soundtrack. You were obsessed. 

Hopping into your island, you begin by erasing all your previous terraforming and rearranging your rivers and lakes. Everything you wanted to include had been planned out beforehand, all your new island decorative pieces were ready in your storage and you had your iPad with your mood board and notes showcasing your detailed plans at your side as well. Everything was going as planned. Your character was also wearing the perfect custom-designed dress for the occasion. It’s a long, flowing white sundress with blue accents that you’ve paired with the cutest white platform heels. It always makes you giggle to see your character wearing the construction hat with such a cute dress — it adds so much charm. 

As ‘Polyphemus’ begins to play, you shudder and press your lips into a thin line. This is the point where everything begins to change for Odysseus and your heart drops every time. However, you’re reminded of the recent fanfic you read and hope the author takes the time to write a follow-up where the characters change their fates for the better. You adore them all so much; you want everyone to have their happy endings, especially Odysseus. 

Focusing back on your island, you’re finally happy with the layout and bring out your wooden shed to begin decorating, pulling things directly from your storage. However, where the storage menu should be showing, there’s only a black screen. 

“What’s happening?” you ask yourself and press the buttons of your Nintendo switch randomly, confused at the suddenly unresponsive screen, “I thought this was fully charged…?” just as you begin to manoeuvre out of your curled-up seating, a sudden lightheadedness washes over you, making your eyes squint in confusion before you’re finally pulled into the same darkness as your screen. 

⊹ ࣪﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪˖

Odysseus etches the image of his wife and son’s faces into the forefront of his mind. They’ve been his anchor throughout the ten-year war with Troy and now that they’ve won and are on their way back home, he needs them more than anything —especially now that he knows the potential future ahead. Determined to avoid such anguish, Odysseus, commands his entire fleet to avoid following the birds despite their dwindling food stores. Having also witnessed their potential future, his men readily oblige. 

It was comforting to see that his bond with the crew had not suffered in the aftermath of the blessing they were witnesses to. Rather, they were moved by his struggles and his vengeance against Posideon, honouring every member with six hundred strikes. Their captain had made a god bleed for them, they dare not betray such a man. The musical was a moving epic that gave them the exact map to avoid if they wanted to reach home safely. 

“I’ll make it home soon, I promise,” Odysseus promised his loving wife, remembering the love and worry in her beautiful eyes. They were the same eyes he had fallen for, soaked in a familiar affection that only seemed to grow after witnessing their potential future. Nothing had changed. She still loved him and that was a huge comfort. 

“I know… I love you,” he replies with a searing kiss, desperate and messy after ten years apart. Pulling away, he looks fondly at his son who looks at him with admiration and love thinly veiled by worry. Looking at Telemachus felt like looking into a mirror, all except for the eyes he shared with his mother. His son had the same head of wild hair as his own, the same strong nose and straight brows as his own. 

“I don’t want you to go yet…” there were unshed tears in his son’s quiet plea and Odysseus had to pull his ten-year-old son into a bone-crushing hug. 

“I won’t be long. I know what to do now. I’ll get home soon,” Odysseus promises into his son’s crown and presses a firm kiss through his brown curls. Pulling away, he stares fondly into Telemachus’ eyes, his beautiful son. Had he ever seen a boy so perfect before? Only his wife could create such beauty and perfection, “Take care of your mother while I’m away,”

Telemachus launches himself into his father’s arms once again, burying his face into his strong shoulder, “Always, father,”

That final interaction has been replaying in Odysseus’ mind ever since he returned to the boat he and his crew had suddenly been swept away from. It felt like so much time had passed but they were returned to the exact location and time they were first taken from. What an experience that had been. A blessing and a curse all at once. To bear witness to such a horrific future was harrowing but Odysseus would take it as a lesson learned. He won’t risk the life of his best friends nor his crew ever again. They had survived the war against Troy, all 600 of them; they should be able to return home unharmed. 

“Odysseus, my friend,” Polites’ familiar voice calls to him, bright and merry but with a heavy weight upon it. He understands the reason without needing to ask. 

“Polities,” they greet each other with a smile, “I know you’re worried about our stores but we can survive without them until we find another island,” Polities doesn’t protest but nods in understanding. There’s a pause that stretches on but not in discomfort. The two merely absorb the moment, comforted by the knowledge that they have avoided a massive turning point in their journey. 

“We are here for you, my friend. All I wanted was to make that clear,” Polites looks at the crew rowing at the paddles, keeping a leisurely pace. “We are loyal to you, our captain, who has led us to victory after ten years,” Odysseus smiles and nods demurely at his best friend in silent appreciation, “that future has not happened yet, nor will it ever happen. I know that you will make sure of that.”

“If the crew should ever act up, we will be there,” Eurylachous steps up to the two of them with a somewhat hesitant air, his posture stiff. Events of the mutiny he led against his brother-in-law and friend had not been able to leave his mind ever since his first viewing. The tall second commander shudders to think of himself ever becoming the shrivelled-up, hungry, desperate and vengeful man who dared go against the captain he had first betrayed by opening the windbag. He was determined to avoid such a fate. What a sorry fool he had turned out to be. It was unbecoming and he had since been congested with guilt. 

Odysseus and Eurylochus silently take in the other. Eurylachous with a boulder of guilt in the pit of his stomach as Odysseus wears an unreadable expression. They were supposed to be brothers, friends, comrades. The people they had become in that future were not them now, and it will never be them. Ctimene’s face appears in his mind. They share a similar goal; to return home, to the wives they adore and had fought the grueling war for. 

The tension is broken by Odysseus who brings his arms up to wrap around their shoulders and pull them close, “Thank you, my friends,” All three share a smile and savour the bond they share. It was one they valued all the more now that they knew of their potential fates, and it was a bond they were unwilling to sever. If they could make it out of Troy victorious after ten years of conflict, they could easily protect each other and the friendship they share. “We will make it home. I swear it.”

⊹ ࣪﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪˖

It had been several days and yet, there was no island on the horizon, meaning no food to hunt and feed his men. Odysseus’ mind was reeling. This cannot be. Surely there would be some kind of island they could set anchor nearby. After taking the proper steps to avoid the worst future they could possibly think of, had Odysseus inadvertently condemned his men to a much more painful and agonising fate? Slowly, his men across all 12 ships had stopped rowing; they no longer had the energy. And the winds were close to nonexistent, providing no aide to his fleet’s sails. Should they have docked at the Cyclops’ island anyway but made a proper plan to steal the sheep instead? But that was too high of a risk, and everyone agreed that it was not worth it. What tragic luck was this? Was his crew doomed to never return home alive with him as their captain? Was the miracle they were blessed with a waste, now that he had given the wrong command? 

A headache begins to hammer at his temples and Odysseus groans, the rumbling in his stomach and the painful ache rippling from it was unquenchable. The image of his hauntingly starved self and crew flashes in his mind. The world seemed determined to make him suffer, though there was no god to blame; he had given the command to avoid the Cyclops’ island altogether — this was his fault.

“Captain!” Elpenor’s— their youngest crew member —shout brings him out of his spiralling thoughts and directs his, as well as everyone’s attention to a wooden structure that had suddenly appeared on their boat. 

“What is that?”

“This wasn’t in that musical,”

“How did it get on our ship?” 

Looking around, it appears as though this was unique to their ship only as none of the other 11 ships were causing the same chaotic murmuring as the one Odysseus was aboard. Of course. It had to be the captain’s ship this strange phenomenon occurs on. 

“It has a door, should we look inside?” Polites comments, reaching for the handle only to be stopped by Odysseus. 

“Let me open it,” he turns to everyone else and loudly commands that they step back and prepare for what may come from opening the door. After taking a slow breath in and slowly releasing, Odysseus finally flings the door back and jumps to the side as a body falls in a heap at his feet. 

The crowd circle the figure and are shocked to find a woman . She looks foreign with clothes they have never seen before. Where had she come from? Odysseus looks back at the slim wooden structure to find it already closed. Polites was the first to kneel beside her, cradling her head and gently urging the strange woman awake. 

“Polites, step away from her!” Odysseus commands as Eurylochus unsheaths his large sword and prepares for a potential threat. 

“She looks harmless, Captain,”

“That’s no excuse to let your guard down,” Odysseus snaps, flashes of another dark future playing in his mind. Had avoiding one grizzly fate led to another, darker one? 

Polities gives him a judging look, “Open arms, Captain,” his best friend wasn’t getting the point. Although Odysseus was appreciative of his friend’s boundless optimism, he wasn’t going to take any chances. 

“Just keep your distance, we don’t know how much of a threat she is until she’s awake. And if she is a threat, you’ll be the first in her way of attack!” Odysseus’ words don’t even allow a single drop of doubt to taint Polites’ determined stare. 

“Wait look! She’s waking up!” Eurylochus points his sword and gets into a familiar, battle stance, ready to pounce.

“Polities! Get. Back!”

⊹ ࣪﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪˖

Groaning, you turn away from the harsh lighting shining down on you and nuzzle into a comforting warmth.  

“It’s alright, Captain,” a distant voice assures, the shouting that follows only pushing you into the comfortable warmth further, unknowing of the effect your innocent action has on the individual currently holding your head in his lap. “She means no harm,” you then feel gentle pats over your head as the same kind voice urges you awake, “Hey there�� can you wake up for us?”

Propelled to respect the kind and gentle stranger’s request, you brave against the harsh sun and will your eyes open. Blinking rapidly, you adjust to the world around you as you’re helped to a sitting position. You part your lips to ask what’s going on but no sound comes out and your confusion is evident on your face. 

“Hi there,” a warm face greets you, pushing away the confusion and worry at your sudden muteness. Gazing at the man before you, you can’t help but lean in with interest. His face feels familiar and you’re drawn to the curiosity of it. He wears square glasses and adorns rich, chestnut curls that fall over a headband. His skin is sunkissed and a little sunken into his angular bone structure, which makes you worry slightly, he doesn’t look healthy at all. He looks starved. “Uhh..” Polites smiles shyly as you reach up to cup his cheek with furrowed brows, “My name is Polites, can you tell us who you are, fair maiden?” 

You finally register the murmurs surrounding you and mutely gasp when you realise you’re surrounded by a circle of men, dressed in clothes typical of ancient Greek times. Everyone had the same sunken, unhealthy appearance as Polites. What was happening? 

“My friend asked you a question. Answer him at once!” a cold metal touches the underside of your chin and you’re forced to look up the body of a large sword and into the eyes of another recognisable figure. Eurylochus. 

This can’t be…

Shaking your head in disbelief and denial of the situation, you fall back into Polites’ arms, who sternly waves away his dark-skinned friend. “Sheath your sword, friend, she means no harm…” Polites’ arms circle you but he doesn’t pull you further into him, leaving space for breath between your body and his own. It was more comforting than you anticipated as you press your face into his shoulder, trying to deny the reality you were in right now. “Captain, Odysseus, please ,”

A sigh draws your attention away from Polites’ shoulder and towards a broad-shouldered man with bronze skin, dark, wavy hair and an imposing air of confidence and charm about him. Distinguishing him from the rest, he wears a purple cloak that’s secured with a gold pin on his shoulder; he’s the captain. Odysseus. Are you in the EPIC: The Musical Universe? Is this a dream?

“...if she meant to do harm, she would have done so already. Sheath your sword, friend,” Odysseus nods towards Eurylochus’ sword.  

“Yes Captain,” the second in command readily complies.

Finally breathing in relief, you turn back to Polites and take his hand into both of yours to shake happily in greeting. The solid feeling on his hand makes this feel less and less like a dream, which makes you all the happier that they don’t see you as a threat anymore. Otherwise, you would have become fish food. However, dream or reality, you were going to live this to the fullest as an EPIC fan. Your actions make the crowd release the tension in their shoulders. A handshake is a sign of peace and shows the absence of a weapon in one’s hands; Polites was right to believe in your innocence. 

“Haha! See, Captain?” Polites smiles at Odysseus, who shakes his head in disbelief but smiles regardless. Trust Polites, to make such quick friends, “May we know your name?” Polites asks after returning his attention to you. Frowning sadly, you shake your head and tap against your throat. You go as far as to part your lips and attempt to speak but nothing comes out. “Can you… can you not talk?” 

You shake your head in confirmation and miss the sadness shared between the men surrounding you both. “How should we address you then?” Odysseus asks aloud and you shrug your shoulders. You don’t really mind how they refer to you, so long as it wasn’t hurtful. 

“As long as it’s of no offence to you, can we call you by any name?” Polites asks, to which you readily nod and he smiles before thinking deeply, “How about we refer to you as fair maiden? It’s simple and you’re the only maiden here so, everyone will easily know it’s you,” without complaints, you nod and hear a murmur of the nickname amongst the group make its rounds; the crew testing the name for themselves. It makes you smile shyly. Although you love the main characters, you always adored the background vocals of the crew and to hear their murmurings was a little flustering. 

“How did you get here? Do you know?” Odysseus takes a knee beside you and you try not to look visibly awestruck by the closeness, “You fell out of that thing,” the captain points towards a familiar, slim wooden shed. It looks exactly like the shed you failed to access the contents of before you blacked out on Animal Crossing. Curiously, you stand and make your way over to the shed, the crowd parting and staring with interest as you do so.

Opening the door, a familiar storage menu screen finally reveals itself to you. And it’s full to the brim with all of your collected items from Animal Crossing. From the curious but unruffled looks in the crowd surrounding you, it doesn’t seem as though they can see the storage screen and you immediately close the shed door to shake your head ‘no’ at Odysseus, who looks disappointed but has no choice but the accept the unsatisfactory news. However, his expression lightens when his eyes drift upwards.

The Captain turns to his men and sends them to their stations at the oars, “Follow those birds, no matter how far they may lead us, it will be towards land. We have another mouth to feed so full speed ahead!” his words make your eyes widen and rush forward with your arms outstretched, waving your hands side to side and shaking your head — a clear expression against his command. In the distance, you can tell that Odysseus’ fleet is still composed of its full 12 ships so he will be leading them to Polyphemus’ island, where everything will take a turn for the worst and you don’t think you’re capable of going through such horrors first hand. 

Odysseus narrows his eyes at you, “What do you mean ‘no’?” he pauses for thought, “...do you know about the Cyclops too?” you’re shocked at his words. How could he know about the Cyclops if he has yet to set foot on the island? And if he’s already done so, why was Polites still alive?

You nod slowly. You do know about the Cyclops…

“We’re long past the Cyclops’ island, days past it, in fact,” he looks at you with caution, “...how do you know about the Cyclops?” Naturally, being unable to speak, you can’t explain your circumstances articulately but that was no longer satisfactory for the captain. Odysseus looks you up and down, taking in the unusual attire clothing you. It doesn’t look like any garments he has ever seen before. It’s a beautiful garment he would love to see on his wife but its unfamiliar style raises his suspicions, “What are you doing here? Are you another test from the gods? They promised not to interfere with my journey home unless I make the same mistakes as in that musical’s future!” your eyes widen at his words and you make the slow realisation that you’re not only in the universe of EPIC but specifically in the aftermath of the reaction fanfic you had just finished reading. You remember hoping the author would continue with a series that has the characters taking active steps to avoid their tragic fates. 

The hostility being raised against you, from the Captain, no less, didn’t bode well, however, so you rush back to your shed. You don’t know why you have your animal crossing storage shed but you were going to use it. It may be your only way of expressing your peacefulness without a voice. 

Opening the storage once more, you search through the categorised panels and select a basket of bread with your finger. The instant it’s selected, the basket of freshly baked bread appears in your arms and you turn to Odysseus with a smile, outstretching the offering as a token of your peaceful intentions. 

Odysseus stares at your offering of bread with a dropped jaw, similar to the one Eurylochus was displaying. How could you have been able to store freshly baked bread in such an innocuous structure? It was Polites who jumped forward with a shout of glee, “Fresh bread! My friends, look!” His words draw the attention of the crew from where they’re actively rowing the oars. The sight of food makes them stop and slowly approach with grumbling stomachs, eyes wide and mouths watering.  The closer they get, the more potent the smell of fresh bread becomes and there’s a chorus of grumbling stomachs surrounding you. “Is this for us?” Polites looks at you with a smile that widens when you nod in affirmation. 

“Wait! You take the first bite,” Eurylochus insists, cautious after witnessing their encounter with Circe. The rest of the crew heed his words and reel back as if subjected to an electric shock. They had almost forgotten the cautionary tale of the musical. Everyone now watches you with judging eyes. Taking no offence, you select a small bun and bite into it with a grin. Everyone around you watches with bated breath but cheers when you swallow and there are no negative side effects. Food! Finally!

“Thank you,” Polites nods at you with a grateful smile before distributing the basket to the crew members. Behind him, Odysseus is left speechless but soon meets your eyes with a similarly grateful expression. He and Eurylochous nod in thanks, which you bow in return to. The tension between you had fully evaporated. The crew do their best to evenly ration out the bread but a singular basket won’t be enough so you return to your storage shed and bring out more baskets of bread that you have saved up, grateful that cooking recipes was one of your favourite things to do on the game. 

“You have more food?” Odysseus voices beside you, suddenly very close and you nod with a bright smile, handing him another basket of fresh, warm bread. It appears as though, no matter how long it’s been since you’ve cooked the recipe, it comes out fresh and warm. You have five baskets of fresh bread circulating amongst the crew now and see if other recipes also come out freshly cooked. With a silent hum, you select the minestrone soup and out comes a deep ceramic bowl with hot, appetising soup filling it to the brim. Like in the game, the portion looks enormous in your hands and looks capable of feeding more than one person. This will go perfectly with the bread and you leave your shed to hand the bowl of soup to a small circle of men sharing a bread basket. They’re in awe of your offering and thank you endlessly, eagerly dipping their bread into the soup and savouring the delicious taste of food after days without. With a wide smile, you turn around and reach for Polites, who happily follow you back to your shed to help distribute more bowls of soup. 

“How does that thing work?” Eurylochus reaches out to the shed once all the food has been distributed but you quickly block his way and shake your head. Suddenly tense, Eurylochus nods and firmly turns away, his hand safely back at his side, “Understood…” This wasn’t a windbag but he wasn’t going to make the same, silly mistake as he did in that musical. Never. He’s just happy the crew and himself finally have some food to eat, the birds and a distant island without a Cyclops long forgotten. 

“Thank you for your help,” Odysseus walks up to you with a charming grin that you happily return, a warmth blooming in your chest at being able to help one of your favourite characters get home. Your easygoing, happy nature is very reminiscent of Polites and the Captain finds himself an easy victim to your warm and comforting presence, willing to follow your optimistic nature. Looking back at his smiling, feasting crew, he breathes a sigh of relief and bites into a round loaf he managed to take for himself as the bread baskets made their rounds. “Do you happen to have more food?” he suddenly asks, nervous of your response. “I have 550 more men to feed across eleven other boats,” he tilts his head towards the rest of his fleet, closely following his ship. Odysseus was ashamed to ask so much from one person but felt an immense feeling of relief when he turned to see your kind smile and warm gaze. It’s as if you were saying ‘ Of course, I do ’, eager to offer your help. 

“You have more food, fair maiden?” Polites cheers, eagerly volunteering to help escort you onto the other ships for a delivery of food. 

You shake your head but hold up a finger, wordlessly asking them to wait patiently. The 50 men of this boat had eaten all of the bread and soup you had stored so you had to make more from the crops and ingredients you had stored. All you needed to do was bring out your small kitchenette. Hopefully, game mechanics still apply when cooking and you’ll have enough food to feed the 550 hungry men left of Odysseus’ fleet. Returning to your storage, you easily bring out your kitchenette and follow the recipe for making more bread baskets and minestrone soup. It was easy enough, especially after realising that all you needed to access your personal storage without the shed was to think of it and it would readily appear for your eyes only. 

While you were hard at work making more bread baskets and soup, you urged Polites, Eurylochus and Odysseus to sit down and eat calmly. They had been watching you the entire time, jaws dropped in awe and eyes gleaming with admiration, their hearts beating with hope and almost brought to tears at being given yet another miracle. They were going to make it home after all! 

It took some time to make the first few baskets and soups for about five ships but, by that time the crew had already devoured their share and all eyes were back on you. Feeling shy, you convince them to focus their attention elsewhere by offering dessert via oranges. From living in the modern world, you know all about scurvy so oranges are the perfect fruit to offer; you make a mental note of bringing some oranges with you to the other ships too. The crew were delighted and eagerly devoured the abnormally large oranges you handed them. They were the perfect sweetness and were so juicy, that many who finished their share were left licking the juice from their fingers. They feel thoroughly fed, and, although it was a mere helping of bread, soup and orange, it felt like a feast fit for a king. Odysseus attested to that sentiment. 

“Is she a descendant of the Goddess of Harvest? The Goddess Demeter?”

“She must be,”

“No, she was sent to us as a divine intervention. She must have been sent by Hermes.”

“But look at the orange she gave us, it’s the biggest, most delicious and perfect orange I have ever seen. She must be a descendant of the God of orchards and fruit, Dionysus.”

“We are lucky to have her, she must have been sent by the Goddess Tyche of luck.”

Many of the crew members begin to speculate your origins, with some raising their voices above the others, their words coming out more clearly. But you were none of those things. You can’t even begin to explain how you got here and it isn’t as though you could even attempt to voice any kind of explanation. It’s quite flattering that they think so highly of you— enough to relate you to the gods and goddesses —but if any good person was capable of offering help then they would do so without regard for what it may cost them. And that was what you were doing. You were only doing what any good person would do. It’s just your luck that you happen to have the same skills and itinerary as your ACNH character. The only unfortunate thing is that you were made mute because of it too –at least most seem to understand what you want to say by paying attention to your actions and movements, much like your villagers.  

To distract from their high-praising musings, however, you get busy cooking enough food for the 550 other men left to feed, quickly filling up your personal storage after you had emptied it of the decorative pieces you originally wanted to dot around your revamped island. Once finally done, you turn to Odysseus and nod. The captain smiles widely, brushes away the orange juice from his chin and calls for a flag to be raised, signalling for the rest of his fleet to fall in line with his so that you could be escorted safely to deliver food. 

“Polites and Eurylochus will escort you. They will also explain your presence to the rest of my men.” Odysseus explains as you nod along and gently express that your shed doesn’t need to be brought with you. Again, Eurylochus nods and backs away, calling for two men to guard the shed while they make the food delivery. In the distance, you watch the boats easily line up and a wooden plank is provided to bridge the distance between two ships. Just as you are being led away by Polites. Odysseus calls out to you, “Fair maiden,” he bows at the waist, the rest of the crew following close after, bowing deeply and sincerely, “ Thank you ,” 

When the crew and Odysseus finally look up, they are greeted by your bright, close-eyed smile and the faint outline of pink and yellow flowers in the air surrounding your face. You’re a beauty, a kind embodiment of mercy bestowed upon them in their hour of need and they dare not take you for granted. 

⊹ ࣪﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪˖

The crew were dehydrated and hungry. This is the price they had to pay to avoid the Cyclops and, at first, they felt it was worth it. However, now that their stomachs were constantly aching, a heavy and painful reminder of their ravenous hunger, they were beginning to second-guess themselves. Growing weaker by the day, they left their oars, slowing their journey home considerably. There also weren’t any reliable winds to push them home. The gods were determined not to influence their journey home in this altered reality but that too had become a major drawback. They couldn’t see an end to it; their spirits were dwindling and the idea of stepping on Ithaca’s sands was now a distant dream.

It wasn’t until the flag was raised by their Captain’s ship that the crewmen dared to feel an ounce of hope. With what little strength they had left, they aligned their boats and set up the slim bridge across, connecting the two vessels. They recognised the first person to traverse the bridge: Polites, their optimist of a third commander. They also recognised the second person to come across: Eurylochus, their hardened second in command. It was the third person that they didn’t recognise, however. 

“Who is that second commander?” Lycaon asks, approaching the tall, sword-wielding Eurylochus but is unable to remain standing in his weakened state. He envied the commanders who could still stand so tall despite their harrowing situation.

“She is the fair maiden,” he answers simply. 

“Does she have no name?” 

“She cannot speak, but she is a blessing to us all,” Polites cut in with a grin, his eyes remaining on you as you cautiously cross the bridge, your long, flowing white dress dancing with the weak sea breeze. “Come now, I assure you it’s safe,” the headband-wearing third commander urges in a gentle and kind voice, softly pulling you to safety with his sweetness. “That’s it, good job,” he praises as soon as you make it close enough to hold his outstretched hand. He gently guides you to the boat’s perimeter and reaches up to hold your waist, where he then proceeds to lower you down with ease. If Polites was shocked at the amount of energy and strength your food had given him, he didn’t let it show but Eurylochus certainly did. Never before had he seen his gentle third commander display such brawn; perhaps it was his willingness to be a gentleman in the presence of a lady that helped aid his sudden show of burliness.

You smile at Polites, gratefully for his encouraging words. The gentle-mannered man was a great help at coaxing you across the rather dangerous plank.

Taking the chance to look around, you’re saddened by the appearance of these war-torn soldiers and crewmen. They had fought for ten long years and came out victorious but it appears as though they aren’t meant to stop fighting just yet. Now they were faced with the most formidable foe, Mother Nature and the seas ruled by one of the cruellest gods you think you’ve ever witnessed. In an attempt to soothe them, you offer a kind smile to which their sunken features are somewhat startled but not unpleasantly. It’s been a long while since they’ve been in the presence of feminine beauty quite like yours. And in their touch-starved, hungry and aching states, you appear before them as a miracle, a mercy upon their blurring visions before they succumb to hunger and their eventual deaths. 

“We call her the fair maiden, she is a very important guest of the Captain,” Polites announces with a smile, making the starved crew tilt their heads in question, slow to comprehend his words. Their third in command was the singular shining optimist of their entire fleet but they couldn’t believe how happy he was in such dire times. And why was he glowing and not sunken? Did you have something to do with it? “She is here to offer us help,” Polites turns to you, silently asking for a demonstration of your blessing while Eurylochus protectively stands behind you. He knows the desperate actions starved men will attempt in the face of the one thing they desire most, his Captain was also aware of this and both agreed that he be the one to protect you across the eleven black boats of his fleet. 

Nodding once, you walk forward and approach Lycaon. The starved man pushes back his chestnut locks so that he can observe you without the shadows of his overgrown and messy hair. Admiring your appearance, there’s something about you that's reassuring, he already feels safe and taken care of under the warm smile on your lips. 

“Good day, m’lady,” he bows his head in politeness after manoeuvring himself into taking a knee before you. If you were an important guest of their Captain, you were to be treated as equal to the Captain. Several of the other crew members who still have the strength to move, mirrored his actions. Soon enough, a majority of the men on board were taking a knee and bowing their heads to you. It made you a little shy and tuck your chin in bashfully, an endearing action to those who were able to witness it. 

Gently, you raise Lycaon’s head with your soft fingers under his chin, giving him a warm look before reaching for your inventory and materialising a fresh basket of bread and a deep bowl of minestrone soup before him. With a gasp and wide eyes, Lycaon looks between you and the food several times before finally meeting eyes with the second and third commanders. 

Was this a dream?

Polites laughs and Lycaon realises he had spoken aloud, “It is not a dream, my friend. The fair maiden is here to bless us with food, enough food to feed us all!” Polites then turns to the antsy crewmen looking ready to pounce from a distance, his eyes sharpening uncharacteristically at their savage appearance, “She has plenty to go around so I advise you all to wait patiently…” Polites lets his words sink in, only continuing when the men visibly reel back, ashamed, “If any harm comes to her because of your impatience and greed, you will be severely punished.  Understood?!” Eurylochus looked openly impressed from where he stood, nodding in approval behind his usually sweet friend. 

“Form groups of ten now and we will make the rounds,” Eurylochus’ firm command was immediately followed. The first group, composed of those who gravitated towards Lycaon, bowed their heads in gratitude and jumped at filling their stomachs the instant you returned the gesture. It was as if they had asked for silent permission and pounced when you finally gave it; they wouldn’t dare sabotage their chance at finally being able to eat a full meal. Before you could move on to the next group, however, Lycaon gently takes your hands with his calloused, and shaking ones to press a grateful kiss against your knuckles. 

“Thank you, my lady,” unable to speak, you convey your assurance by taking the hand he kissed and petting his head, softly trailing your hand down to cup his cheek and smiling when he leans into your touch. His tired but assured olive eyes flutter close to savour your softness and warmth. You’re surprised at the tears that fall from his long lashes but smile when you see his smiling lips littered with crumbs. 

You make the rounds with the rest of the groups and happily watch as they all have their fill. Thank goodness the animal crossing portion sizes are as unrealistically big as in the game; everyone could have their fill without having to deprive another of their portion. It was also helpful that when all the food was gone, the cutlery and tableware it came with also disappeared — no waste! 

Just as the first group was finishing up their meal, you returned to offer them several large, perfectly round, and juicy oranges as dessert. They cheer in delight and awe at your airy giggle. Despite being unable to speak, you manage to sound the sweetest, twinkling laugh they’ve ever heard. To be provided with delicious food on such hard times was already such a blessing but to receive it from a beautifully fair and kind maiden was an entirely new blessing atop that. Their hearts and minds can be at ease now, their stomachs full and their nights no longer filled with restless tossing and turning from the discomfort of hunger. 

After receiving the gratitude of the 50 men on this boat, you make the same trip to the rest of the 10 black boats left in Odysseus’ fleet. The experience was relatively the same, beginning with weary eyes and ending with cheers, sighs of contentment and endless gratitude. You can’t count the amount of crew members who have kissed your hand or cried tears of relief before you.

⊹ ࣪﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪˖

For another day or two, you repeat the same routine of feeding the crew a hearty meal you cook up on the kitchenette summoned on Odysseus’ ship, right beside your storage shed for easy access to ingredients. Thinking ahead, you make a bunch of bread baskets, from normal bread to the savoury and snack bread baskets and offer those with jams on your morning deliveries to each ship. That allows the crew to have some sustenance while you prepare their bigger meal later on in the day. You feel bad for being unable to offer more food but Odysseus assures you that you’re doing more for them than what is needed. 

“I can have my crew survive on just one meal a day, they wouldn’t dare complain after the hunger they’ve had to endure until you arrived,” Odysseus assures with a kind smile after seeing your anxious expression. However, you immediately throw up your hands and wave them about in protest, causing the Captain to look at you perplexed. 

“I don’t think she approves of that, Captain,” Polites laughs and claps his friend on the shoulder. Odysseus shakes his head and chuckles in light humour. 

“Then let me express my thanks for helping my crew. You are truly a blessing and have the biggest heart,” Odysseus bows at the waist like he did the first day you arrived and Polite quickly follows. Even Eurylochus bows from where he's stationed guarding your shed. It flusters you and you reach out to lightly tap their shoulders in assurance, as if to say, ‘It’s alright, please raise your heads,’.

“Those coconuts you gave out are also really helpful,” Polites nods towards the pile of coconuts on one end of the ship, “They’re a great way to quench our thirst. I’d say they’re more hydrating than water,” you clap in happiness and nod eagerly, your eyes closed as you smile and it escapes you how all three— the captain and his commanders —soften their gazes at the sight. They can only truly believe in Polites’ ‘open arms’ belief because of your boundless kindness and eagerness to help. 

On the second day aboard Odysseus’ ship, you cook up a treat by making the three pizza recipes available to you from Animal Crossing. The Margherita, mushroom and seafood pizzas were very well received by the crew along with the peaches you gave for dessert. They were eager to request more pizzas in the future if you were willing. On the third day, you made a bunch of Seabass pies (many of the men adored the fish design you put on top, they called it ‘charming’) and apples for dessert. 

For many, it was their first time having pizza and Seabass pie so it was really fun to see them, not only, satiate their hunger, but also openly react to something they were tasting for the first time. There were many satisfactory hums and excited, contagious gossip about what they liked most about a particular dish. They found pizzas fun and easy to eat while the pie was a wonderful layer of mashed potato, fish filling and golden crust goodness — a combination they had never encountered before but acquired an instant taste for. 

While you were sipping on a coconut milk drink between cooking sessions, some of the crew were eying you curiously but tried to make it seem as though they weren’t blatantly staring. It was quite endearing actually. You gestured to a particularly starry-eyed crew member and kindly motioned him over. Elpenor with his fluffy brunette hair, cacao eyes and bronze skin approaches with a small, shy smile, closely followed by his slightly taller friend, who sported wavy blonde hair that came down to his chin and greyish-blue eyes. 

“I go by Elpenor, fair maiden,” the broad-shouldered brunette introduces with a bow when he comes to stand before your curiously tilted head. You remember him as the one who unfortunately died after getting drunk and falling off of Circe’s palace in the musical. It was your guess that the man who followed him was his friend Perimedes. 

“And they call me Perimedes,” the musical portrayed Perimedes as a man who hides his true emotions, appearing nonchalant and jovial despite his depressed disposition. You can't help but feel an aching pinch in your heart for the man. Before you could realise it, your hand reaches up and cups his cheek, softly stroking your thumb over his stumble comfortingly. Perimedes’ grey-blue eyes widen and he frantically looks to Elpenor who grins widely at him, happy to see his friend be treated softly. “U-Umm… is everything well, fair maiden?” Perimedes asks, looking uncomfortable at your touch, but doesn’t pull away; rather, you feel him tilt his head towards your touch. You suppose his bad habit of hiding his true feelings persists and Elpenor, being his closest friend, remains close to him as a result. Both have become each other’s rock.

Shaking your head, you smile assuringly and slowly bring your hand back, giggling with Elpenor at the unknowing whine the taller blonde let out from the loss of your touch. Quickly, you offer the two your large glass of coconut milk and giggle when their eyes comically bulge in surprise. 

“Are you offering it to us?” Elpenor asks with wide eyes, hesitant to proceed. Surely accepting would be crossing the line. But you nod eagerly and softly thrust the drink towards him and Perimedes once again. 

“W-we can’t accept,“ Perimedes begins as Elpenor nods along, stepping back with his friend. Both are unable to stomach the sad look in your eyes and the pout that plays on your lips when you see them back away, and they look to the side in shame. Why was it so painful to watch you frown because of them? “That was your drink, fair maiden,” both sides continue to insist on their stance and it would have continued if it weren’t for Eurylochus walking up from where he was observing the scene with Odysseus and Polites, both of whom wanted to laugh at the situation. 

“You two have no authority to refuse the fair maiden’s kindness,” Eurylochus’ booming voice begins, making the two freeze up, “if she sees it fit to share with you, then you must accept. It’s rude to do otherwise,” you smile gratefully at Eurylochus who’s hard expression softens considerably in return and brings up a hand to pat your head. You’re much shorter than him and he finds that the difference has influenced the large feeling of responsibility and protectiveness he feels over you. “Well?!” his hard expression returns when he faces a slack-jawed Elpenor and Perimedes. 

“Then we kindly accept,” Perimedes begins, bowing at the waist with Elpenor quickly following. The large glass, even though you’ve already had your fill still had enough for both of them and you seemed happy to hand it over. Perimedes offers it to Elpenor who takes the first sip and immediately takes a liking to it. The bronze-skinned youth eagerly offers the drink to his taller friend before he’s even formed the words to praise such a refreshing, milky drink. 

“…It’s delicious! Go ahead and try it, my friend!” 

You and Eurylochus watch in satisfaction as the two don’t stop at just sharing with each other but move to their crew members so that they can have a sip too. Seeing what would happen next, you go about making more coconut milk drinks and hand one to Eurylochus to take back and share with Odysseus and Polites just as Elpenor returns asking for more on behalf of the other crew members. Looking over his shoulder, you smile at the crew members’ eager eyes but shy demeanours. These hardened men could act rather cute if they wanted to. 

navi. | series m.list

next. | two : the island paradise →

a/n : as you can see, the two versions read very similar to one another, it's just those slight changes but regardless of that, i did my best to make the two versions as distinct from the other as possible on surface level -- now everyone can have their go-to version hehe~ i hope you darlings enjoy! if you want to be on a specific taglist for a specific version, please just mention that version of the two and i'd be more than happy to add you!

[foreverl0stinmymind]

Can you do a write about a deaf mc that normally wears hearing aids but they break so they can't communicate with the brothers, how would the brothers get around this predicament?

Sure can!

Small warning, since I don't have hearing aids, I can't guarantee this'll be 100% accurate there. I'll do my best though.

by the way, this swings wildly between second and third person.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mc normally took their hearing aids out to sleep, so that they could charge them. But one morning, they woke up to Mammon tackling them, accidentally knocking them off the nightstand, and breaking them. Mc froze. Mammon was talking, before realizing that Mc wasn't acknowledging him at all. The brothers were aware MC used hearing aids, but knew no more than that. Mammon's gave went to Mc's crushed hearing aids on the floor, and immediately called Lucifer.

With Lucifer's help, Mc managed to order a new pair, but it'd be two weeks until they showed up.

Lucifer sat you down, and through texting, made sure you were okay. He set up a schedule so that he or one of his brothers was always with you, in case you ever needed help. He was semi-fluent in ASL, since he'd learned to help Diavolo with the human world relations program. Mostly, he'd use ASL if Mc knew it. If not, he'd send texts. If over the time you were waiting for new hearing aids, he ever needed to lecture you, he'd type it all out as a text, and make you write out his whole lecture, so he knew you read it.

Mammon felt really guilty over accidentally breaking them. He thought the idea of getting word magnets (courtesy of Lucifer's credit card) was a great idea. When scolded for that, he reverted to the few ASL signs he knew, and texts.

Levi didn't need to change much, since 90% of your chats with him were over text anyways. Constant texting 24/7. When you were gaming with him, he muted the computer to make things more "fair."

Satan, Like Lucifer, was skilled in ASL. He'd taught himself it back when he'd first learned about your hearing aids, in case of an issue like this. If Mc doesn't know ASL, he reverts to handwritten notes.

Asmo argued that words were pointless, and you could communicate through touch alone. Satan translated this argument for you, much to Asmo's irritation. Eventually, he settled for texts, paired with lots of random touches that you couldn't understand.

Beel was grateful he at least hadn't eaten the aids. He kept accidentally talking to you, struggling with the idea of you being unable to hear him. However, if he was talking and you gently tapped his arm, he'd immediately write it down on a chalkboard he got for this purpose once he learned your aids were broken.

Belphie shrugged, and went back to sleep. It took the first three days of you being without aids to just tell him your aids were broken. Once he finally was properly told, he began to wrist whatever he wanted to say on whatever surface was available, keeping intense eye contact as he did so.

All the brothers had to learn that to get your attention, they first had to touch you in some way. This ranged from gentle pats on the shoulder from Belphie and Lucifer to having someone kissing/biting your neck. That someone was Asmo the vast majority of the time.

I hope this met your expectations!

[james-potters-biggest-fan]

I wrote a little James angst bc I'm feeling shitty abt a bad biology test, so enjoy

James stares down at his phone, shame and embarrassment twisting inside him.

He swallowed back the tears that threatened to fall and cleared his throat. 

“Um, I’m gonna go to the bathroom, I’ll be back in a second.”

His friends all acknowledged him in some sort of way, either a hum or a nod, most of them entranced in the movie they were watching.

He stands up and walks to the bathroom of Barty and Evan’s apartment.

There's polaroids up in the bathroom of them and their friends throughout the years, it was usually very cute, but James felt too shitty to look at them and smile as he usually does.

He sits down on the toilet, burying his face in his hands and silently letting out sobs. 

He doesn’t get it. He’s a nice person, he always does his best and tries his hardest. 

Why can’t things go right for him ever? 

Why does everything have to go badly for him but not for the people who hurt him, or who hurt his friends. 

He’s not sure how long he’s been gone, but when he lifts his head he feels just as shitty, and his head aches.

He wants to go home.

He wants to lay in bed with Regulus and have him scratch his back and play with his hair and have him tell him that everything is going to be okay.

He hears a knock on the door, and he hums out in a questioning tone,

“It's me love, can I come in?”

“Mhm.”

The door gently opens and closes again and then Regulus is kneeling in front of him, gently grabbing his face and tilting his head down, 

“What happened sweetheart?” 

James shook his head, more tears slipping out of his eyes,

“It’s okay, everything’s okay, I’m not going to judge you, I just want to help.”

“I failed my biology test.” His voice is barely a whisper, barely coming out when he speaks.

“What?”

“I got my grade back. I got a 57, I failed.”

“Oh Jamie, I’m sorry.”

“I just don’t understand Regulus, I don’t get why I’m so stupid.” 

“You’re not stupid Jamie, you’re one of the smartest people I know, one biology test doesn’t define you and your worth.”

“But it’s not just one biology class, Reg, it’s the math class I had to drop last semester, it's that I’m always the dumb one in any given conversation. It’s not fair.”

“It’s not, love, I’m sorry. But just because you’re not great at math or science doesn’t mean you’re stupid, I read your psychology essays and I’ve seen how you interact with kids, your strong suits just aren’t focused on STEM subjects.” 

James nods.

“I want to go home.”

“Okay, we can go home, why don’t you go to the car and I’ll gather our things?”

“Okay, but… can you not tell them?”

“Of course not J, I’ll tell them you had a headache. Now go, I’ll be down in a minute.”

He nods and gets up, wiping his face again and walking out of the bathroom and straight to the door. 

When Regulus walks out after and starts to gather their shoes and jackets, Sirius speaks up,

“Is James okay?”

“He’s okay, he has a headache, he wanted to go home but he didn’t want to ask.”

The others nod in acceptance and tell him to tell James that they hope he feels better. 

And that night, Regulus does hold James close and scratch his back, and tell him that everythings okay.

[saoirseyun]

⸝⸝ x fem reader

‹‘ 🎑 ’›— festivals

—A messy draft of hues splashed the black canvas of night into full color. Loud bangs igniting off the packs of fireworks with an uncontrollable frenzy almost, just as carefree it presents to really be as it sets off. You closely held on the slim fabric of Dazai's yukata, relaxing against the support of his shoulder—with the other lightly grasping on a simple stick of dango. Lost amidst the ray of beautiful colors, a darling reverie. "Amazing," Dazai muses. Eyeing the stunning arrange of fireworks blasting one over more then after impatiently. "We picked the bestest spot out here, [name]. I'm quite proud of ourselves." Payed no attention, with you lost in the show and only now mindlessly biting the dango in hand. If anything, it was almost like all movement were involuntary now. Dazai himself couldn't help but be the more amused. Brushing aside some baby hairs and calling out your name in a trance, "[name]? Can you hear me?" He asks. Dazai held a tighter touch to soft petite-like hands of your own. Having to now blinks a few times to catch his voice.

But if anything, it were less than a bother if there had to be one to say. Watching your eyes feast away to beholding sights of stunning, charming fireworks similarly to a few others by stand. As if moths to a flame, blush colors your cheeks adorably with a slight moment of realization. Snapping awake, kind of. "What—?"

"I was asking you something." The sleeves of his loosely folded yukata falls, "Seems like you're more into viewing fireworks, though. I'll leave you be." You blink, him turning back to the show in full focus at the boundless sparks of colors fading into the night. Its light reflect to Dazai's fair skin, having that alone to bring out his smile the best. You sigh—deciding to reciprocate such manner. How lovely...

...For once, it was nice for you and Dazai to share a quiet moment spent together. Nothing but between the enjoyment of fleeting fireworks, akin to the pace of life itself. You desperately needed one of these.

‹‘ 🎟️ ’›— dates

—It's either that he goes all out or have no plans attached throughout the whole day; only in hopes of anything interesting happens. Nevertheless, Dazai just knows how to spoil his sweet girl dearly right to the moment often. You weren't able to come into terms into telling praises so directly—despite of how the brunet might as well deservingly need to hear them at least someday. You plan to anyway. Await for the time to slip in those words through a crack of vulnerability, humming to yourself lost midst thoughts and Dazai who wonders about what was going on your head. "Someone's busy." Heartfelt touch of his finger to your forehead and you immediate to compose yourself for him.

A stutter exits your lips, desperate to not give Dazai a baffled look. "My bad, just thought about some things." The exact minute where Dazai sneaks into your apartment before Kunikida forces the man to get up on time—just to slip by watching sunrise close to the ports. Next to rushing towards an open seaside attraction nearby and hit the sweets for breakfast... The lovely, rather pleasant arrange of events. "You're always thinking, aren't you?" Dazai points out: then playfully pokes at your forehead, a snark grin.

He wasn't entirely wrong for sure yet somehow it felt more annoying than it should. Teasingly (with affection and adore) mock you about potentially pondering about himself when he's literally next to you! One bad habit, for sure. Your grip to Dazai's palm tightens.

"It's difficult enough especially with what you've done earlier at the jewelry shop."

He blinks at you, innocently, a glare to the exquisite necklace piece Dazai bought on his own spare money (from the past) before to your eyes. If not for the gift, then... "Was it wrong for me to openly say that I'd marry you?"

"...On god, let's focus on our date."

10/18 for my valentine's special masterlist -— daily clicks

@emyyy007, @emmzai, @adventurinea, @moomuzan, @skibididazai, @iams0up

[rarepairdumpster]

Captain Hook AU Part 1

Pairing: Viktor/Silco (Arcane) Rating: M C/W: Wet Dreams, Marking, Silco as a pirate will never be old

AU where Silco is Captain Hook and Viktor is a lost boy that had to flee Peter Pan because he aged too much.

He's already nearly grown, but thin as a wisp when Silco finds him on the outskirts of Pan's territory.

Silco digging the point of his hook under Viktor's chin and asking, "And why should I ever help you, after all the trouble you've given me?"

Viktor swallowing thickly. "Because I can help you. I'm good with science and mechanics"

Viktor started to grow up because he developed a crush on Hook and something in him wanted to be old enough to be noticed by him

And Silco did start to notice when Viktor's gangly limbs filled out and lean muscle covered them instead.

Viktor kept his accent but his voice dropped to that irresistible purr.

Silco taking one look at Viktor's bad leg and knowing a hammock below decks won't be suitable, and realising he'll have to set him up in his quarters instead.

Silco splits his room up, running a curtain down the middle and having a bed brought in the next time they're at port. As soon as it's ready he brings Viktor to the room and hopes it will be suitable, even though it isn't his own room.

Viktor is just at the idea of being so close to Silco. Close enough that he could hear him breathe in his sleep.

And what if he has those dreams again

Viktor absolutely has those dreams again.

And Silco is frozen in bed, hard as a rock at Viktor gasping "Captain" in his sleep.

And Silco sleeps on his front, so his dick is hard AND trapped against the bed.

The rocking of the ship adds friction Silco didn't intend but it's not unwelcome. Not when a beautiful boy is dreaming about him just feet away.

His dick throbs when he hears Viktor whine "Captain, please!"

He curses silently and fists the bedsheets, as he comes with just a few more rocks against his mattress.

Silco acts like nothing happened the next morning but Viktor is flushed from head to toe because he woke up to sticky sheets.

Silco does ask to have dinner with him that night. In their quarters.

Viktor feels a little unsteady when he hears those words.

When Viktor arrives for dinner, the curtain is pulled back a bit to make space for a table and chairs.

On the table is a lavish dinner, not like he's used to with the rest of the crew, and his mouth starts to water. With his rapidly growing body, he wished he had more food, but what the captain gave was fair and he thought too much of Silco to complain

Silco's eyes widen when Viktor sits down and starts inhaling food once given permission. He chastises himself for not realizing that Viktor may need more food than his normal crew.

Viktor is a growing boy, and has the appetite to match, apparently

Once Viktor starts to slow, Silco nods. "I'll be doubling your rations for now. Until you feel you don't need the extra."

Viktor flushes and his eyes do the moon thing that cats eyes do.

Silco's heart feels like that anime thing where they get hit in the chest and just knocked out.

"You're too good to me, Captain," Viktor blurts, returning his attention to his plate quickly.

Silco tightens his grip on his knife because the word Captain just makes him think of the night before.

"I simply want what's best for you," Silco replies. "For all my crew, of course," he adds quickly.

"But who thinks about what's best for you," Viktor mutters, glancing at him.

"Hmm," Silco smirks. "That's why I'm the captain"

Silco crossing his legs, and his boot happens to drag along Viktor's calf in a caress and relishing in watching how Viktor reacts.

"I don't just care about what my crew may need," Silco continues. "I also try to concern myself with their wants." He stands up and walks behind Viktor, placing his hand and hook on the boy's shoulders and leaning into his ear. "What is it that you want?"

Viktor draws in an unsteady breath.

"I want..."

Silco's finger begins to tease over his collarbone through his shirt.

"Yes?"

Viktor takes in a sharp breath, praying that this isn't another dream. He leans slightly into Silco's touch, letting his head fall to the side that Silco inhabits. His gaze falls on Silco's lips then flicks up to his eyes. 

"*You*, Captain."

One hand seizes Viktor's hair and then Silco is kissing the boy roughly.

Viktor moans into the kiss and the utensils in his hands clatter to the floor as he grabs Silco's lapel like a lifeline.

Silco isn't gentle as he plunders Viktor's mouth.

Silco pulls Viktor up from the chair and shoves him up against a pillar in the room. One of Silco's hands wraps around Viktor's neck softly while the other hooks the meat of Viktor's thigh, digging the point into the thin fabric.

"Is this what you wanted, boy?" Silco hisses across Viktor's cheek.

Viktor whines into the narrow space between them. He feels like he might burst into flames, if Silco keeps touching him like this -- authoritative and a little vicious.

Silco tightens his grip on Viktor's throat ever so slightly. 

"Answer me"

"Yes," Viktor breathes, almost pushing into Silco's hand. "Yes, sir."

Silco using his hook to cut through Viktor's pants.

Viktor fusses a little that he only has two pairs and Silco's like "we'll get you more at next port now get on the bed"

Viktor being reminded of how slight he is compared to Silco when Silco is on all fours over him.

When Silco finally touches Viktor, like a young man, he comes fairly quickly at first, causing Viktor to stammer out embarrassed apologies.

Silco just smirks. "Darling, we're just getting that out of the way so the real fun can begin"

Viktor shivering when Silco calls him darling.

Silco trails down and takes Viktor in his mouth, humming at the boy's sweet taste. Viktor has his hands fisted in the sheets, almost afraid to touch as if he would scare Silco away. He chances a look down at Silco and whines, falling back onto the pillow quickly at the sight.

Silco is smug, hand pinning Viktor's hip down, and his hook curled threateningly around Viktor's bare thigh.

Viktor loves the feel of Silco's hook, leaving red lines across his skin that never bled, but he knew would stay for a couple days. His legs are already shaking as Silco licks and thumbs over his hole, still so sensitive from just climaxing.

Silco turning Viktor over on his belly when its time for his cock, because he wants the boy to be comfortable, and Viktor moans at the feeling of Silco draped across his back. He can feel every inch of the man's strength.

Silco wraps the arm with his hook under Viktor's belly, using his forearm to pull Viktor closer as he enters him. He leans down and sucks bruises into Viktor's back, bites his shoulder blades, marking his territory.

And Viktor loves it. He wants to wear his Captain's marks proudly. Wants the entire crew to know he's been claimed.

He especially wants Pan to see that he doesn't own him anymore

Of course, the ship only has so much space, so the entire ship can hear Captain Silco railing the Pan Reject.

Various wagers are being cashed in. Most knew it was only a matter of time once they started sharing a room. Sevika won.

Part 2

Arch + Woods

[schrijverr]

All the Things that Made Tanya’s Day Horrible

An addition to chapter 44 to 46, wherein we get an outsider’s perspective of the tsunami from Tanya, one of the people Buck rescued, as she goes from seeing Buck and Chris on the truck, to watching both of them disappear into the water again, to realizing who Eddie is to both of them after the water has retreated.

On AO3.

Ships: Buddie

Warnings: minor character death mention, tsunami, near death experience

~~~

Water is all around her and she is drowning. God, she’s drowning. She wants to scream, but water enters her mouth instead, silencing her.

She splashes in the water, kicking her feet and trying to keep her head above water. Once she’s up, she vaguely hears a voice scream: “Hold out your hand! Hold out your hand!”

Her eyes are blurred and she can’t see a thing, except maybe a red blob with movement on it. However, it’s a person. A human person. The first one she’s heard since this nightmare started and one that sounds like it wants to help.

Tanya holds out her hand.

When she does it, she has very little hope it’s going to work, but it’s the best option she has. Instead, she is surprised by a strong hand grabbing hers, before she is lifted out of the water and dropped onto a solid surface.

The same hand keeps a hold of hers as she splutters and coughs, the other slapping her on the back as she heaves up all the water she inhaled. The water is slowly vacating her eyes as she blinks and mentally she swears to never go swimming again.

Once she has hacked up the last of the water and cleared up her vision, a man appears in her line of sight. He is handsome, though hair also a wet mess, which is a bit of a relief, since Tanya must look a mess as well and she really doesn’t need to embarrass herself more in front of the hot guy that rescued her to add to the list.

“There you are,” he says. “You okay?”

“Course not,” she croaks out, because how can anyone ask that in the middle of a literal natural disaster.

Hot Guy chuckles: “Yeah, fair enough. Just take it easy, take a breath and rest. We just have to wait until we’re getting rescued. This truck is pretty sturdy, very heavy, I can assure you.”

Tanya looks around for the first time, realizing the red blob she saw earlier is in fact a fire truck that houses a few more shivering people. All look to be in a similar state to her and she decides that this is officially the worst day ever. God, she hates her fucking life.

Still, she has the mind to smile at Hot Guy and say: “Thank you. For the rescue.” It’s wholly inadequate for the situation, but it’s all she can manage.

“No problem,” he replies as if this is a normal day for him. Hm, maybe hot, but is a little odd and definitely bad at risk assessment. Red flag.

With that he retreats again and she doesn’t follow him, she needs to have a mental breakdown, thank you very much.

Fuck, her mom told her not to go to LA by herself. She told her, but did Tanya listen? No. And now here she is, in the middle of a fucking tsunami, because of course she had to go explore the Santa Monica Pier on the one day a tsunami happened to hit the city.

This day fucking sucks. She is cold and she is shivering and she is scared. She is still in shock, having been fished out of the water a minute or so ago, the water still leaking from her hair. Tanya doesn’t think anyone is having a worse day than her.

She curls in on herself to have a pity party, but she feels like she’s allowed to have that. She’s only 24 and fresh out of college. She just wanted one cool vacation experience before he became a corporate drone and then this had to happen.

Tears gather in her eyes and she doesn’t even try to keep them in as they start streaming down her face.

An arm lands around her shoulder and she looks up to find a woman giving her a sympathetic look as she offers a waterlogged handkerchief. It’s useless, but she takes is anyway with a wobbly: “Thank you,” because that little bit of care is exactly what she needs. Then she breaks down crying again.

“It’s okay, dear,” the woman says, just cry it out. “I’ve got you. It’s a rough day for all of us.”

And it is. It really is. Tanya never wants to go through anything close to this ever again. She never even wants to see the ocean ever again.

After she’s gotten herself under control, she again says: “Thank you, you’re very kind.”

“Of course. We have to be here for each other. I’m Marissa, how about you?”

“Uh, Tanya,” Tanya offers.

“It’s nice to meet you, Tanya. You live here or visiting?” Marissa asks.

Tanya can’t help but laugh at that. It’s such a ridiculous question seeing the circumstance that it completely breaks her out of her breakdown. Going off Marissa’s pleased look that might have been the point, though. She answers: “Visiting. You?”

“Live here. I was just running errands,” Marissa replies.

That is almost too strange for words. How casual their days had been, how unassumingly they all went about them. But before Tanya can figure out a reply there is movement at the front.

She looks over to find Hot Guy holding on to the side of the truck, while dangerously leaning over the water, yelling at a man who comes floating down the road towards them. He is holding on a piece of debris and doesn’t appear to be willing to let it go, so Hot Guy is trying to convince him to try and grip his hand.

The man in the water appears to risk it and then chickens out at the last minute, missing Hot Guy’s hand. Hot Guy doesn’t frustrated, just yells: “Grab onto the hose! Grab onto the line!”

Now that he mentions it, Tanya can spot a hose spanning from the truck to a tree on the other side of the now flooded road. The man in the water spots it too and grabs it at the last minute, his piece of debris floating on without him and smashing into a building.

Hot guy calls out: “Can you make your own way here or do you want me to come get you?”

“Please,” the man cries out, sounding absolutely terrified.

If Hot Guy is annoyed at the request or scared, he doesn’t show it, just grabbing the hose and getting back in the water to go get the man. As he does, Marissa says: “He’s been doing that the whole time. Pulled me out too. He pulled everyone out. I don’t know how he does it, must have some training.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Tanya agrees, looking on in awe as Hot Guy gets the man on the truck and then does the same check in he did with her.

Much like her, the man has a bit of a breakdown as he recovers. However, since it’s not her breakdown, she can now see where Hot Guy goes.

He retreats to the front of the truck where a kid is sitting with thick glasses on his face as he smiles at Hot Guy. Hot Guy instantly smiles back at the kid, asking: “How are we hanging in there, Superman? You good?”

The kid – Superman – nods, “I’m good,” with an upbeat look on his face that almost seems out of place. But Tanya gets it too, if she had her dad here, she would also feel a lot better, because there is no way Hot Guy isn’t this kid’s dad.

There is a familiarity in the way Hot Guy talks to Superman and the way he pulls him into his side as if it’s as easy as breathing. You don’t develop that bond by just rescuing a kid nor by merely babysitting them from time to time.

Fucking hell, she can see the kid is okay, but she can’t imagine being out here with your kid. I mean that is just awful. She now feels at least lucky she doesn’t know anyone in this city. That she doesn’t have to worry if anyone she knows is okay, is still alive.

Marissa snaps her out of her thoughts, commenting: “That’s a strong kid right there. He’s been nothing but smiling the whole time. Poor dear, getting caught up in all this.”

“At least he has his dad,” Tanya replies. “Would be worse if they were separated. I can’t imagine how much he must be worrying about his kid.”

“Yeah,” Marissa agrees. “I’m just glad my kids are in colleges out of state. I’m never complaining about how far they are ever again.”

They end up chatting about college and just life for a bit, basic getting to know you questions that seem very out of place with the water calming around them.

However, it keeps her mind of how horrible today has been and they’re not the only people having conversations or even playing games. Hot Guy and Superman are playing I Spy, seemingly in their own world as they chose things for the other to find.

It’s cute. Superman’s happiness is almost infectious and hearing him excitedly yell out objects prevents the dread of their situation to creep back in.

Then one of the men – she thinks it’s the guy whose rescue she watched before – exclaims: “Oh my god, look over there,” pointing down stream.

“Oh my god,” the words get ripped out of Tanya’s throat as she sees the bodies drifting towards them among the debris. More horrified exclaims go through the group as they all see it.

God, she feels sick. She doesn’t want to see that. She can rationally know people die in natural disasters and she was lucky to survive, but that is very much not the same as seeing a corpse. She is way too young for this.

A desperate voice cuts through her thoughts, gripping her by the throat. “I- I spy with my little eye, something that is high.”

Oh god, Superman.

Tanya has developed a soft spot for the kid, who has kept her from spiraling this whole time. If she is too young to see a dead body, then he definitely is. Her concern is enough for her to be able to pull her eyes away from the bodies coming towards them and instead look over at the front.

Hot Guy has put Superman on the side, cupping his cheek to keep his eyes away from the floating corpses and his back towards them. He continuously checks the position anxiously as he tries to keep Superman from realizing what is happening.

Her heart hurts for him. For having to face this horror with his kid, who is way too young for any of this. How scared he looks for the kid to be hurt by everything that is happening.

However, she is also so grateful that they’re there. Not just because she would have been swept away further by the water without Hot Guy to pull her out, but also because him and Superman keep her sane and even now she can look at them and not the dead people in the water, using them as a gauge when it’s safe to look again.

It takes Superman guessing a street sign, a window, a street light and a cloud, before the bodies have passed. She knows because Hot Guy finally says: “Yeah, you got it!” when Superman guesses an air-conditioning unit.

Superman huffs: “I don’t wanna play this game anymore.” Even his unending enthusiasm has limits, Tanya can relate.

Hot Guy is also at the end of his rope, because he sits down next to Superman and sighs: “Yeah, me neither.”

Tanya can’t imagine what he must be feeling, the need to protect your kid from the horrors even when that is already impossible with all that has happened. How he’s still trying regardless, because making it worse for this kid is clearly not possible for him. She doesn’t envy him at all. In fact, she feels a little nauseous trying to put herself in his shoes.

Then Hot Guy continues after a beat of silence, saying: “I don’t know what we’re gonna tell daddy. You know, we don’t invite him one time and, uh, look what happens.”

The sick feeling in her stomach doesn’t at all fade and instead gets worse. She hadn’t even considered the other parent that is out there somewhere knowing that his husband and kid are out there in this mess, unsure if they’re even alive. The sudden knowledge that her own mom must be worried out of her mind hitting her in the stomach. God how he wishes she’d never went to LA and had just listened to her mom and stayed home.

Her internal freak out gets cut through by Superman’s soft and honest voice. “You saved me. And you saved them.”

Hot Guy blinks, then looks over at everyone there. The people he has pulled out of the water and checked up on. The people who have lived through today because of him. Who are safe here instead of out there somewhere.

He almost looks surprised, as if he is only now realizing he did that. Then he makes eye contact with Marissa, who is still sitting next to Tanya. Marissa smiles at Hot Guy, as does Tanya, and Hot Guy automatically smiles back.

Then she can see how he chokes up, swallowing roughly as he turns back to Superman. His voice is wobbly, but strong despite it as he says: “No, we did that together. Me and you make a great team. Give me a high five”

He holds up a hand for Superman to high five and Tanya nearly starts crying as the little boy high fives his dad, before getting pulled into a hug, while Hot Guy says: “I’m proud of you. Really.”

Superman loops his arms around Hot Guy in return and the tears start to fall for real for Tanya when he says: “Thank you, papi.”

This day is too horrible already, she can’t deal with any of these emotions right now. Seems like Hot Guy maybe feels the same, because all he says is: “No, thank you,” as he continues to hug the kid close.

The moment gets broken when the water starts to rush again. Tanya has no clue what is happening, it was so calm moments before. Then again, it had been calm at the pier too, before all this shit went down.

Fear grips her heart and she tightly grips the railing, eyes clenching shut.

She can hear Hot Guy’s voice shout: “Everybody get down! Get down and hold on! Hold on!” as around her the water starts to hit the truck and it shakes. She lets out a little whimper of fear and prays even though she doesn’t believe.

There is a commotion on the truck, but Tanya doesn’t care. She just keeps her eyes closed. She doesn’t want to see more. She wants to be home. She wants this horrible day to be over. She doesn’t want anything more to happen.

Then Marissa lets out a loud horrified gasp and she can’t help but peak, scared to see the person she bonded with most in danger. Instead she is just in time to watch Superman fall off the truck and get swallowed by the water with only half a terrified “Papi!” making it past his lips.

Her eyes instantly go to find Hot Guy, not being able to fathom him leaving Superman. She finds him just as he pulls a pretty burly man out of the water at the front where a rescue operation is also ongoing.

His eyes are wild as he spots the empty spot where Superman was seconds earlier. She doesn’t think she will ever forget the broken, desperate note in his voice when he screams: “Chris? Christopher! Christopher! No! Christopher! Christopher! CHRIS!”

She only has half the mind to think, ‘oh, so that’s what Superman’s name is,’ before Hot Guy is diving into the water.

It happens so fast, she almost thinks she imagined it. But no. The water is still rushing past and there is so more Hot Guy or Superman on the firetruck.

“Oh my god,” she exclaims.

“Can you see them?” Marissa asks, peering out over the water. “Does anyone see them!”

Together they look. Tanya thinks she can maybe see a bit of a head disappearing down a side road and she points it out, but it’s as if both have simply disappeared. They’re gone. Hot Guy and Superman- no, not Superman, Christopher. His name is Christopher. He’s just a kid and his name is Christopher and-

Tanya vomits over the side of the truck.

She’s been feeling unwell about everything for a while now and maybe she should have vomited when those corpses drifted by, but she didn’t. Those corpses she didn’t know. They weren’t people to her in the way Hot Guy and Christopher are.

They’re people like her, caught up in something terrible and now they’ve disappeared. They’re gone and they might be dead. She might have just been the last person to see either of them alive ever and the thought is enough to make her vomit again.

Marissa rubs her back, eyes appearing far away as she stares out over the water uselessly.

The two of them sit on top of that truck and hold each other, despite having been strangers until today. They look out as the water lowers, hoping for a miracle to appear, but it doesn’t.

Once the water is low enough to get off, people start to climb down. Most start to help others down, but some also start to walk away. Tanya doesn’t know what their plan is, but she doesn’t care, she just sinks down on one of the many ledges and sits, grief for people she doesn’t even know overtaking her.

Today is the fucking worst.

Someone spots a few firefighters, pointing them out. Help that has come too late for their savior and his kid, but apparently not everyone thinks so, because someone says: “They can find that guy and his kid!” which causes people to start calling out for help.

Soon the three firefighters are there. One doesn’t carry the same gear as the others do, which Tanya thinks is odd, but she isn’t paying that much attention when the oldest says: “LAFD, we’re here to help. What’s the problem? Is anyone hurt or stuck?”

“Plenty of people are hurt, but no one serious We need you to help us find this man. He saved us all. Pulled us up onto this truck when we drifted by, but he got swept away. He could be hurt,” Marissa says, having snapped out of her stupor in the face of possible progress.

Tanya admires her for it, but she is happy to disappear into the background herself. Guilt eats at her. Would the outcome have been different if she had kept her eyes open? Could she have prevented Christopher from falling off?

“Eddie here can check all of you over,” the leader man who spoke earlier tells Marissa gently. “What’s your name?”

“Marissa,” she answers.

“Well, Marissa, we can’t make any promises about finding your rescuer, but if you give us a description, we’ll make sure to keep an eye out for him,” Leader Man says

“He’s tall, very tall, and white,” Marissa says. “Some of the debris must have hit him in the face, because he has a bruise on his eye. He’s blond.”

“No, you’re saying it all wrong,” another woman says. “He’s a redhead.”

“No, he’s not,” Marissa insists. “He pulled me out early, I had a good look at him.”

There is more squabbling about what Hot Guy looked like, but Tanya doesn’t mix herself in it. He was handsome, but taken, she can’t add anything new to the conversation. Thinking about what he looked like when he smiled at them hurts in an unexpected way.

Seems like Leader Man is also tired of the arguing, because he interrupts with: “Can anyone here give us one description? Or a name? You mentioned a kid, do you still have the kid?”

“I don’t know,” the woman who first mentioned the kid says. “He fell off the truck. It’s why he dove off it again. Didn’t hesitate for a second. It was when the tide receded.” She calls out. “Did anyone see his kid?”

Tanya clenches her eyes shut. Of course no one saw the kid, he disappeared into the waves. Soon they’re going to be asking for a description of both of them to add to the victim count. Bile creeps back up her throat again.

Then, almost impossibly, a voice calls from the back of the crow calls out: “ Yeah, we got him here. He managed to grab onto a windowsill a street down.”

Now Tanya remembers those people who walked off earlier. That makes sense now and she feels guilt for not realizing earlier, for not joining them. God she is a horrible person. Today has made her a horrible person.

Leader Man says: “Bring him here.”

Despite her guilt, she is eager to see Christopher again. To confirm with her own eyes that he is indeed okay. Even if the knowledge that no one has seen Hot Guy and what that can mean, sits heavily in her stomach.

Because of that, she sees how the crowd parts as a shot woman makes her way over to the little group of firefighters.

As she gets closer, Leader Man becomes white in the face, looking horrified. Tanya wonders if it’s the first kid they’ve come across out here – part of her hopes it is – but then the other man with them, Eddie she remembers, sees too.

He squints as the woman and Christopher come closer and closer, before his face contorts in the same way and he fully abandons the man he was looking after. The woman saying: “He’s looking for his papi.”

A feeling of dread comes over Tanya as she watches this man, which is confirmed to be valid when the kid turns his face towards the man and he chokes out: “Christopher?” the name correct despite no one having told it to him.

“Daddy!” Christopher exclaims, reaching for the man, proving her worst fears.

God no.

No.

Just no.

Tanya watches on in horror as everyone scrambles out of the man’s way as he barrels toward Christopher, practically snatching him out of the woman’s arms as he cradles him close. “Oh my god, Chris.”

“Daddy,” Christopher cries, sobbing in his father’s arms.

She can relate, Tanya feels like sobbing herself too, because she remembers the way Hot Guy worried about what he was going to tell his husband, what he was going to say to the very same man that is in front of her now.

Hot Guy’s husband is here. And Hot Guy isn’t here.

Back when she first realized there was another parent out there, she felt sick. Wondered how he must feel, knowing his husband and kid are out there and not knowing how they were, if they were even alive.

Now, she has to grapple with the fact that he didn’t even know they were out there. That he was working, oblivious to the fact that his family was so close by, oblivious to the fact that if he’d been a little earlier, he might have been able to save his husband before he disappeared into the water again…

Tanya feels sick once more and she has to clasp a hand over her mouth when she hears Hot Guy’s husband asks: “What were you doing out here, mijo?”

Her sickness getting worse when she has to listen to Christopher sniffle as he explains: “We were going to the pier to celebrate my good grade. I was sad because you weren’t going to be here and papi wanted to cheer me up. Then the water was gone.”

She actually dry heaves. Fuck this is horrible. Too horrible. She was already having a horrible day, but somehow this rescue that is so good, because it kept her alive, just keeps getting worse and worse.

Eddie must finally realize what it means, because soon after he is shoving his phone in Marissa’s face, desperately asking: “Is this- Is this him? Is this the man that pulled you out?”

“Y- Yeah, yeah, that’s him,” Marissa stammers, slightly overwhelmed by his intensity, but none of them blame him; on the screen is Hot Guy, smiling into the camera.

It’s clear Eddie’s world crumbles down around him, face dropping and a nauseous look crossing his features. He looks like he wants to disappear, like he also just wants to lie down and curl up into a ball and wish this horrible day out of existence.

God, she can’t even imagine. Her mom is probably also worried out of her mind, but at least she’s not in the middle of this disaster zone, knowing she is out there somewhere, seeing how bad it is and knowing she could have been here. That she was so close, but Tanya slipped through her fingers anyway.

She is never going to forget Hot Guy scream his son’s name, but she’s pretty sure she is also never going to forget the soft devastation in Eddie’s voice when he turns to Leader Man and says: “It’s Buck. Buck is out there.”

Tanya has a split second to be disturbed by now having a name for Hoy Guy. The humanizing effect that has fucks with her mind. When Leader Man drops: “And we’ll find him. But you’re too close to this now, Eddie. We both know that. You’re compromised. Take Bosko to the VA hospital and help out there. You can’t be out on the field anymore either.”

The husband speaks for practically everyone there when after a shocked blink, he explodes: “What the fuck do you mean, I’m off the field? That’s bullshit!”

“Eddie,” Leader Man levels him with a look, “the two of you are family. You’re partners on and off the field. You’re not going to be able to make rational decisions and it’s going to put people in danger. I can’t have that.”

Tanya can barely believe her ears. This man’s husband is out there, you’re really going to ban him from looking for him? What the fuck?

Apparently Eddie agrees with her, seething: “I’m not compromised. In fact, we had a whole internal investigation to see if me and Buck could work together. And guess what? We can. So, you can’t do shit right now, Cap.”

Leader Man takes the anger well, Tanya has to give him that, though she also wants him to shut the fuck up when he calmly says: “Yes, I can. You’re not acting rational right now, just like Bosko isn’t about her Captain. I can make judgment calls in the field and I’m making this one.”

“Like hell you are,” Eddie yells with most of the group rooting for him. “You’re not making me sit out when my husband is out there!”

It seems like Leader Man snaps under the barrage of Eddie’s anger, roaring back: “You have your son to worry about.”

“My son needs both his fathers,” Eddie shouts, seemingly unafraid of Leader Man’s temper, while Tanya found it quite intimidating.

Leader Man only becomes more intimidating as he jabs Eddie in the chest with his finger as he forcefully says: “And he’s going to have none of his fathers if you don’t listen to me, Firefighter Diaz. You’re gonna get yourself killed with the head space you’re in, then where will Chris be, huh?”

She is looking over at Marissa, not sure if they should step in or something. The longer they spend here, the more likely it is that Buck will die. Marissa isn’t paying attention to her, so she looks over at the other firefighter with them – Bokso she thinks her name is. Bosko seems to be as uncomfortable as the rest of them watching the altercation between Captain and subordinate.

Before anyone can decide to step in, Christopher breaks the moment for them, starting to cry as he sobs: “I don- I don- I don’t wan’ you or papi to die.”

It’s absolutely heart wrenching to hear. Tanya has been feeling sorry for herself for having such a horrible day, but Christopher definitely has her beat. Not only was in a tsunami like her, but he just lost his one dad to the waves and now his other dad is here, but he is fighting about finding Buck, saying he might die. That Christopher has just lost him permanently.

“Look what you did,” Eddie glares at Leader Man, before turning to Chris and rocking him gently as he comforts him: “No one is going to die, mijo. We’ll find papi, yeah? We’ll find him.”

Christopher cries for a little more, but bravely wipes the tears away. That unbreakable spirit from before shining through as he asks: “Pinky promise?” holding up his pinky to Eddie. Tanya might only vaguely know Buck and Eddie, but they clearly raised a great kid.

“Yeah, pinky promise,” Eddie says, interlocking their pinkies. He looks like he intents to keep it, practically daring Leader Man to say something with the way glares at him.

Leader Man only sighs in response, suddenly looking a lot older than before, as he says: “Eddie, I’ll make sure everyone knows Buck is missing. The whole LAFD will be looking for him. We will find him. You just need to focus on Chris. Take these people and Bosko to the VA hospital and when we find Buck, you’ll be the first one to know.”

Tanya feels for him, but only a little bit. She probably doesn’t understand the whole LAFD politics and getting to a hospital where they maybe have a phone so she can call her mom sounds like heaven to her. But she can also see the desperation to do something reflected in Eddie’s eyes. Tanya herself already feels guilty about doing nothing more to help Buck, she can’t imagine how Eddie must be feeling.

Indeed, it seems like Eddie isn’t done arguing yet, however, before he can Bosko speaks up for the first time: “You’re totally right, sir. We’ll do that.”

Going off the look she gets from both other firefighters, this is unusual for her, so she adds: “Seeing Diaz, makes me realize how stupid I was.”

Tanya now vaguely remembers Leader Man saying something about Bosko looking for her Captain and gathers this is not the first time he’s had this fight today. Her sympathy for him increases a little bit.

However, it’s overshadowed by Eddie’s: “What!” who clearly does not feel the same.

Interestingly, Bosko doesn’t seem to take it to heart, just giving him an eyebrow heavy look as she elbows Eddie in the side before he can go on. Tanya wonders what that is about, especially when Leader Man gives her a suspicious look and she plasters on something innocent in return.

Bosko assures him again: “I’m serious, Captain Nash. The adrenaline is wearing off and my ribs are hurting like a mother-” she glances to Christopher “-uh, like a lot,” she corrects.

“And I can trust you to keep Eddie on track?” Leader Man asks, clearly not buying it. Tanya doesn’t but it either, but she is on Bosko’s side anyway.

“Yeah, course, don’t worry,” Bosko tells him. “I got a lot of practice in Diaz wrangling when he was serving in my house. I can keep him out of trouble and get him to Sawtelle.”

Tanya sees Marissa mouth Sawtelle to herself and she is again reminded that she is from LA. That these streets are home to her, not like a movie set. That this destruction is hitting all of them. That this is a real place that got destroyed. That real people are out there and in need.

It seems like Leader Man, or Captain Nash, she supposes, also realizes this, because after a mutter from Eddie and a ‘shut up’ from Bosko, he sighs and says: “Alright. I trust you two to escort these people to the VA hospital safely. I’m ordering you two to take them there, then stay there. If I find out that you two have disobeyed, I’ll have to take disciplinary action. Am I understood?”

Eddie clearly wants to protest, not picking up on the inflection Tanya picked up on. Fortunately, Bosko did pick up on it and speaks first, saying: “Understood, sir.” And Eddie copies her, albeit a little more moodily. “Yeah, okay, Bobby.”

“Good,” Bobby-Leader Man- Captain Nash- whatever gives them both a nod. “I’ll rendezvous with Chimney and Hen and leave you two in charge here. Don’t do anything stupid.” Okay, none of these people have real names.

It’s the last thing Leader Man says to any of them, nodding to a few as he starts to make his way down a road. It’s almost baffling to see the man just walk away after all this and it seems Eddie and Bosko also need a moment, just staring att he crowd as they stare back.

Tanya is pretty sure they half forgot everyone was there while they argued, since they all kind of kept their mouth shut. None of them had the energy to mix themselves in whatever that had just been honestly. Today was horrible enough already without that.

After a moment, however, Bosko takes charge, calling out: “Is anyone too injured to walk?” They all call back a negative, Buck made sure they were all okay. Bosko takes that and nods, before yelling: “Alright. Follow me.”

“What are you doing?” Eddie hisses, brain also catching up to the situation. “You really agree with Bobby?”

“Of course not,” Bosko rolls her eyes. “I had to give him a reason to leave so we could go rogue and find Ronnie and Buck. He knows we’re not going to listen to him. Didn’t you hear how he said that?”

“No?” Eddie replies, confused.

Tanya is now waiting with the others once more as Bosko explains it to him: “He has to take disciplinary action, if he finds out we disobeyed. If he doesn’t know, he doesn’t have to do anything, so he gave us a task away from him to a place he’s probably not going to be much at today. We bring these people to Sawtelle, then we come back out here to look.”

The respect for Bobby goes up in the crowd as they realize what he has just done for Eddie and by extension for Buck. Everyone wants him to be found, to be okay. Bobby cut his losses with what was required by him and decided to trust Eddie with finding him. Tanya can respect that and if there is a way to help, she’s here.

“Oh,” Eddie says, kinda dumbly, before he gets it and grins. “You’re a genius.”

“I keep trying to convince you, but you never listen, do you, Diaz?” Bosko grins back. It’s clear they’re friends. It’s nice to see. That in the midst of this disaster that also exists.

Marissa interrupts them: “Excuse me. The hospital is on Sawtelle?”

“Uh, yeah,” Eddie says.

“I know the way, I can take everyone, so you two can start looking,” she says. “I mean, I don’t know Ronnie, but Buck – if I heard the name right – saved us. If my husband was out here, I’d want to go look too. I’m sure everyone here will be more than fine to let you two go.”

Tanya has never been so proud to call someone her friend – well, she thinks Marissa is her friend, they leaned on each other on a tiny truck in the middle of a tsunami, she’s pretty sure that makes them friends.

So, she nods her agreement, the whole crowd backing Marissa. They aren’t badly injured. They were saved and looked after by Buck, a professional (Tanya isn’t dumb, she can figure out Buck also works with these people, him being an off duty firefighter makes a lot of sense). Now he is in trouble and they’re going to return the favor. They can get to the hospital by themselves.

Eddie’s face is almost awed with gratitude as he looks at all of them. It feels a little like this is what humanity is supposed to be. Yeah, today is horrible and this is a tragedy, but there is still kindness out there. This is the moment people reach out to help. That’s special.

“What do you think, Superman? Want to go look for papi together?”Eddie asks Christopher, bouncing him lightly, as he shakes off the shock.

Tanya can’t help but note the shared nickname for Christopher between him and Buck. Fuck, she really hopes Buck is going to be okay.

“I do!” Chris cheers.

“Alright,” Eddie smiles.

Meanwhile Bosko is coordinating with Marissa and the other woman and man, who have kind of become the leaders of their little group. “I think I can flag down some transport for you guys. Are you sure you’re going to be okay? Because we can go with you, before starting our search.”

“No, no, you go,” the other woman, who’d spoken earlier says.

“Yeah, Buck made sure we were okay, now we’d like to help him,” the man says.

“Thank you so much,” Eddie tells the group sincerely.

Marissa shakes her head: “No, thank you. And thank your husband from us when you find him.”

“I will,” Eddie says and he sounds like he means it. Tanya is pretty sure this man would go into the underworld to find Buck to give him the message if he has to. She really hopes it won’t be necessary as they get ready to go.

Eddie and Bosko go over everyone one last time, binding the worst of their injuries and checking them over, ensuring they’re good to walk. It’s clear how badly both want to go search, but they’re professionals. Tanya is sure that if one of them was too badly injured, they’d delay their search to care for them. It reminds her of Buck and she mentally urges them to hurry, today shouldn’t have to get more horrible.

Once they’re all done, they all say their goodbyes, before Marissa takes the lead. Tanya falls into step beside her. Besides, Buck and Christopher, Marissa gave her the most comfort and she doesn’t want to lose it now. Going off into the destruction in search of safety is still pretty scary.

Marissa must notice, because she gives her a gentle smile, then holds out her hand for her to take, which Tanya does gratefully.

“You think they’re going to find him?” she asks Marissa after a moment, voice soft.

“Yeah, I think so,” Marissa says. “You don’t just give up on love like that. And if God is kind, he’ll make sure that family is okay.”

Tanya thinks about it, then nods. She wants to believe that too. If anyone has deserved a good ending to this horrible day, it’s that little family. Yeah, Buck being found by his son and husband would make today less horrible.

~~

A/N:

Like can you imagine being one of those people on the truck when this went down. They might never know there was a happy ending, like ahhh wild shit.

Btw, if you’re like ‘huh, I didn’t hear the name Tanya in the main verse’ you would be correct. I wanted this to be a nameless face in the crowd POV, a person affected by Buck and Eddie, for whom they made a difference, even if they never knew her. So I purposefully didn’t do Marissa for example, hope that makes sense :D

[merge-conflict]

heretic pride calls to me and i'd love to hear more about it pls and ty :3c

Yesss, thank you! I already talked about it here, but don't worry there is more...

This is definitely a turning point for the entire fic, for a number of reasons:

This is Valentine's final POV chapter. It's just Johnny Silverhand show after this

After the events of the parade she breaks with Goro for the first time since they've agreed to be partners

This is where they face an Arasaka and remember their romance is a tragedy

The damage from the relic has affected V enough so that when she IS back in control she's very obviously decaying

And a snippet from my "outline":

And then has a real bad attack. A Real Bad One. Disoriented, in pain. She sticks around too long and Oda comes. She can barely get up. They talk, argue a bit, he slams her head against a wall and that’s when things get Ugly with her. She patches him through to Goro, who by that time has found Hanako. They bicker, Oda threatens to kill V and Goro immediately gets nasty, and Oda backs down although he’s not happy about it. That’s when V starts getting patchy, and Johnny is musing for longer paragraphs, and V doesn’t realize she’s blanking out. Johnny’s not in control, but neither is V. Goro immediately knows something is wrong– since Hanako is at least listening (she could tell Oda to be hostile but does not. she’s curious about V. she’s noticed the relic (it hurts)) he does crouch next to her and try to help. But she doesn’t want to look at him. She uses him to hold herself up– it’s the best she can manage but everything is falling apart and she won’t look at him. MAKING EYE CONTACT WITH HANAKO AND DRAWING HER FULL ATTENTION. just like saburo with goro. (know a sucker when you see one)