#when i should be working on chapter 7

[flythesail]

The very thin line I'm walking between "I need themes x, y, and z to come across in the last two chapters" and "I shouldn't have to explain what should be interpretable"

[akkivee]

was checking up on hypmic content coming out this week and lmao can you believe we’re getting 3 new song previews, 2 new chapters for the manga, ichiro’s bday, a cute looking summer event in arb, and a hypmic seiyuu event vid all this week 😭😭😭😭😭😭

[mirrortouchedsea]

getting motivated to work on that kaokana fic finally and i have added like 1k this week.... so much progress for me i'm so happy

[saph-yells-into-the-void]

I FINALLY FINISHED CH 6 OF MY KUNIGIRI FIC

[kindsummer]

distracted you say? 🪲 for the ask then!

🪲 ⇢ add 50 words to your current wip and share the paragraph here

“It isn’t flowery prose, but it will certainly do, Benny. I’m sure your parents are just happy to hear from you, especially if they’re keeping an eye on the 100th casualties,” Matt often wondered how many of their parents read their daily newspapers with bated breath, worried that this time would be the one that was of their worst nightmares. “Is Marge your older sister?” 

Benny nodded, exhaling a cloud of smoke from the corner of his mouth. “Yeah. One of them. Francis is the eldest, my brother, then it’s Marge, Mary, me, and Veronica. I’ve always been closest with Marge, though. This heat makes me think of how we’d go ice skating at Millennium Park every December and ended up tripping each other more than actually skating. Hot cocoa from a street vendor heals all ice skating wounds, I can confirm.” 

Writers Truth & Dare Ask Game !!

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

🧩 How to Outline Without Feeling Like You’re Dying

(a non-suffering writer’s guide to structure, sanity, and staying mildly hydrated)

Hey besties. Let’s talk outlines. Specifically: how to do them without crawling into the floorboards and screaming like a Victorian ghost.

If just hearing the word “outline” sends your brain into chaos-mode, welcome. You’re not broken, you’re just a writer whose process has been hijacked by Very Serious Advice™ that doesn’t fit you. You don’t need to build a military-grade beat sheet. You don’t need a sixteen-tab spreadsheet. You don’t need to suffer to be legitimate. You just need a structure that feels like it’s helping you, not haunting you.

So. Here’s how to outline your book without losing your soul (or all your serotonin).

—

🍓 1. Stop thinking of it as “outlining.” That word is cursed. Try “story sketch.” “Narrative roadmap.” “Planning soup.” Whatever gets your brain to chill out. The goal here is to understand your story, not architect it to death.

Outlining isn’t predicting everything. It’s just building a scaffold so your plot doesn't fall over mid-draft.

—

🧠 2. Find your plot skeleton. There are lots of plot structures floating around: 3-Act. Save the Cat. Hero’s Journey. Take what helps, ignore the rest.

If all else fails, try this dirt-simple one I use when my brain is mush:

Act I: What’s the problem?

Act II: Why can’t we fix it?

Act III: What finally makes us change?

Ending: What does that change cost?

You don’t need to fill in every detail. You just need to know what’s driving your character, what’s blocking them, and what choices will change them.

—

🛒 3. Make a “scene bucket list.” Before you start plotting in order, write down a list of scenes you know you want: key vibes, emotional beats, dramatic reveals, whatever.

These are your anchors. Even if you don’t know where they go yet, they’re proof your story already exists, it just needs connecting tissue.

Bonus: when you inevitably get stuck later, one of these might be the scene that pulls you back in.

—

🧩 4. Start with 5 key scenes. That’s it. Here’s a minimalist approach that won’t kill your momentum:

Opening (what sucks about their world?)

Catalyst (what throws them off course?)

Midpoint (what makes them confront themselves?)

Climax (what breaks or remakes them?)

Ending (what’s changed?)

Plot the spaces between those after you’ve nailed these. Think of it like nailing down corners of a poster before smoothing the rest.

You’re not “doing it wrong” if you start messy. A messy start is a start.

—

🔧 5. Use the outline to ask questions, not just answer them. Every section of your outline should provoke a question that the scene must answer.

Instead of: — “Chapter 5: Sarah finds a journal.”

Try: — “Chapter 5: What truth does Sarah find that complicates her next move?”

This makes your story active, not just a list of stuff that happens. Outlines aren’t just there to record, they’re tools for curiosity.

—

🪤 6. Beware of the Perfectionist Trap™. You will not get the entire plot perfect before you write. Don’t stall your momentum waiting for a divine lightning bolt of Clarity. You get clarity by writing.

Think of your outline as a map drawn in pencil, not ink. It’s allowed to evolve. It should evolve.

You’re not building a museum exhibit. You’re making a prototype.

—

🧼 7. Clean up after you start drafting. Here’s the secret: the first draft will teach you what the story’s actually about. You can go back and revise the outline to fit that. It’s not wasted work, it’s evolving scaffolding.

You don’t have to build the house before you live in it. You can live in the mess while you figure out where the kitchen goes.

—

🛟 8. If you’re a discovery writer, hybrid it. A lot of “pantsers” aren’t anti-outline, they’re just anti-stiff-outline. That’s fair.

Try using “signposts,” not full scenes:

Here’s a secret someone’s hiding.

Here’s the emotional breakdown scene.

Here’s a betrayal. Maybe not sure by who yet.

Let the plot breathe. Let the characters argue with your outline. That tension is where the fun happens.

—

🪴 TL;DR but emotionally: You don’t need a flawless outline to write a good book. You just need a loose net of ideas, a couple of emotional anchors, and the willingness to pivot when your story teaches you something new.

Outlines should support you, not suffocate you.

Let yourself try. Let it be imperfect. That’s where the good stuff lives.

Go forth and outline like a gently chaotic legend 🧃

— written with snacks in hand by Rin T. @ thewriteadviceforwriters 🍓🧠✍️

Sometimes the problem isn’t your plot. It’s your first 5 pages. Fix it here → 🖤 Free eBook: 5 Opening Pages Mistakes to Stop Making:

[theglassofmiddleearth]

Imagine Being Isekai'ed into KPOP DEMON HUNTERS. (part 4)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

This chapter is mainly Romance (Rae oriented!) This one is a bit of a filler episode so I have a feeling that you might not enjoy this one as much but nonetheless, HAVE A GOOD READ!

Breakfast was actually quite nice. Jinu had brought back some hang-over soup, whilst Romance brought back some coffee. To top it all off, Mystery slipped Y/N a sweet bread that she had been craving since a week ago. The spicy soup was able to help her wake up, and Jinu had placed a cup of water on the table inconspicuously to Y/N’s ignorance.

‘Okay well, this has been nice but I have to go.’ Y/N unlocked her phone to a notification from the Huntr/x group chat, asking her if she could supervise the upcoming live recording of Golden.

‘What? But you said we still have to practice to be perfect.’ Romance protested immediately, standing with his arms crossed. 

‘Romance-’

‘Rae. My name is Rae-Jin but just call me Rae.’ He breathed, sitting back down in his chair with a whump. 

‘You’re abandoning us to go hang around Huntr/x?’ Jinu rolled his eyes, looking as if Y/N had greatly offended him.

‘Need I remind you that technically I abandoned them for you lot?’ Y/N raised a single eyebrow, hands on her hips in an imposing stance. ‘Besides, you all just need to practice choreo and singing. That’s all you guys.’ Y/N shrugged, picking up her keys and swiping her notebook and phone. She checked her belongings making sure everything was in order. 

‘You’ll call us if something comes up?’ Jinu said, taking Y/N’s phone from her easily, punching in his number and drop-ringing it.

‘Huh, no password? That's not safe Y/N.’ The leader furrowed his brow, trailing off as he handed Y/N’s phone back to her. 

‘And ghost writing music for a demon boy band is?’ Y/N cheeked, nudging him with her shoulder playfully.

‘Touché.’ He let out a soft smile, as Y/N turned her back to grasp a bottle of juice on the table.

‘Hey, I’ll call you guys if anything comes up okay? Keep practicing! I’m gonna go to work.’ Y/N waved as she headed towards the open elevator doors, taking a swig of her drink, replying to a work text.

‘Stay safe!’ Beom called out as the elevator doors closed.

The boys were left in silence, staring at the closed metal doors. Each of them were thinking the same thing.

‘She’ll be ok, right?’ They all asked in unison.

‘The Honmoon is getting weaker, which means that demons will become more prevalent. I don’t know if it’s safe for her to be out there on her own.’ Abel turned to the group, arms crossed over his chest, his compression shirt stretching.

‘I mean, when we first tried to take her soul, it didn’t work. Maybe she’s unaffected by demon powers?’ Mystery reasoned, trying to reassure the group.

‘I’m not one for taking chances, and we just got our producer. What are we going to do if something happens to her?’ Jinu concluded, slipping off his barstool smoothly. 

'Besides, even if they don't take her soul, they can still harm her physically.' Rae shook his head, dissatisfied with Mystery's reason.

‘If she’s with the demon hunters, then shouldn’t she be safe?’ Beom reasoned, pointing out the truth. ‘Maybe we’ll wait for her call?’

‘I think one of us should stick with her, but stay out of sight. Just to be safe.’ Jinu countered, looking disgruntled.

‘I’ll do it.’ Abel offered easily, shrugging his shoulders.

‘No, we need you for choreo. You're the strongest but most of us haven’t got it down perfectly yet.’ Beom shook his head, looking disappointed. Each of the boys felt the urge to follow Y/N, but on the other hand, they wanted to make sure they did justice to Soda Pop, as their debut stage.

‘Rae, you go. You’ve got everything down almost to a T. Report back if you hear anything, make sure you use your phone. I didn’t acquire them as decorations.’ Jinu sighed, waving Rae off, knowing that the pink haired man was already half way out the door.

‘He’s gonna just jump down the stairs in demon form isn’t he?’ Beom asked, looking at Jinu.

‘Mhm.’ Mystery nodded along, as the stair door swung shut with a clank.

‘Aw rats. Why didn’t I think of that this morning?’ Abel whined, slapping a head on his forehead.

‘I don’t know man. You act so stupid at times but we all know you’re not.’ Jinu laughed, slapping Abel on the back.

‘Lower expectations and then deliver the minimum so people are impressed. That's how I got by dear Jinu.’ Nodding cheerfully while holding a thumbs up.

‘Hey.’ Jinu called over a shadowy blue figure, prowling its way from under the marble kitchen island. ‘You’ll watch over her too. Come find me if she runs into anything that could be dangerous.’

The creature purred in agreement, rubbing its blue head against the leg’s over Jinu before sinking into the ground, wearing a small gat on its head.

‘Alright, let’s get back to work. Y/N said she thought we had to work on the verses a bit more.’ Jinu clapped his hands, ushering his friends back into position.

‘I thought it didn’t matter what Y/N thought.’ Mystery snickered, pulling his arms into his beginning position.

‘Whatever. Let's take it from the top.’ 

–

Meanwhile, Y/N had gotten into a chauffeured car, scribbling the lyrics of Takedown in her notebook. The girls were currently in an interview, expressing how Golden reflected each of their own journeys in life. She flipped between pages, pondering if she should start, What It Sounds Like as well. Y/N wasn’t sure if movie logic actually applied in this world, seeing as this was her new reality. 

She decided to also write down the lyrics of What It Sounds Like as well, just in case.

Honestly, since Y/N had received her memories, she’d felt bad for the girls. It wasn’t their fault Y/N had never been invited to anything. She was admittedly, rather anti-social. If people didn’t try to initiate conversation, she would sit there and do her own thing. Y/N wasn’t afraid to be alone with her thoughts as they were usually filled with lyrics and working on her next beat for the girls. Besides, most of the issues were rooted in Celine’s upbringing of Rumi. The girls weren't the ones keeping her away, it was herself and her own insecurities.

‘We’ve arrived Miss L/N.’ The driver spoke, severing Y/N’s train of thought.

‘Thank you sir! Have a good day!’ Y/N called into the car, before swinging the door shut. Y/N rang up Bobby, hoping that he’d pick up. It was still relatively early in the afternoon.  

After a short conversation, Y/N was brought to the back entrance of the studio, given a staff pass and ushered into the dressing room of Huntr/x.

‘Y/N!’ Sorry we didn’t tell you about launching Golden..’ Rumi smiled sheepishly, looking remorseful.

‘It’s alright, I wrote it so you guys could sing it anyways.’ Y/N shrugged, giving Rumi a forgiving smile.

‘You look like you haven’t been sleeping well.’ Mira stood from her chair, walking closer to Y/N, bringing a hand to grip the ghost writer's chin.

‘Have you been staying up late? Y’know that's bad for you.’ The lean girl sighed, rummaging through her bag for eye cream and handing it to Y/N. The still sleepy girl took it gratefully, smearing some of the cream under her eyebags.

‘Were you up late writing a new song?’ Zoey bounced on the spot, her spacebuns bopping along with her.

‘Uhh, kind of!’ Y/N agreed, looking down at her notebook. Technically, she had been writing a new song. Both for Huntr/x and the Saja Boys. Was it bad that she was helping the Saja Boys at the moment? She had been able to slip Beom and Abel away from the manipulative whispering of their former master but…

Was it permanent?

Was it even real?

‘Five till rehearsal guys! Let’s get the ball rolling!’ A studio executive’s voice called out, clapping their hands authoritatively.

‘Rumi, wait. Can I talk to you?’ Y/N gently grasped the wrist of the purple haired girl.

‘Yeah what’s up?’ Rumi beamed, nerves abuzz from the imminent performance.

‘Rumi I-’

‘Come on Huntr/x lets show them how it's done, done, done!’ Bobby yelled, pushing all the girls off into the stage recording area.

Y/N winced, watching the girls get herded off.

‘Y/N! We’ll talk later okay? Wait for me!’ Rumi called back, using both hands to imitate a megaphone.

‘Okay!’ Y/N called back, feeling a cold shiver creep through her pores, raising the hair on her arms. Y/N broke into a cold sweat, shaking slightly as she took her place in a back corner, hidden away from view. 

‘You’re cold.’ A voice whispered, placing a jacket over Y/N’s shoulders.

‘Wha- Romance?’ Y/N spun around, the newly placed jacket on her shoulders billowing around her. Romance’s pink hair was tied up, tucked into a hoodie, his pink bangs peeking out. His face obscured by a high collared shirt underneath. Behind him was… Jinu’s blue tiger? It gave a low rumble, its pupils dilating at the sight of Y/N.

Aw, it was wearing a tiny hat! It was Jinu's demon familiar. Huh, was he concerned for her?

Nah, couldn't be.

‘It’s Rae, and also, before you say anything, this was Jinu’s idea.’ Rae murmured, pulling the jacket firmly around Y/N once more. ‘Come on, let's get your arms through. Can’t have our writer getting sick.’ 

‘Thanks…’ Y/N flushed slightly, a soothing warmth spread over her skin, caught off-guard by the domestication of the act. The opening bars of Golden began to fill the studio, Y/N recognising her song, snatched her eyes from Rae’s lavender, grey eyes. She felt soft fur under her fingertips as the blue tiger rumbled quietly, circling Y/N’s legs.

Rae however, kept his eyes on Y/N, moving to stand next to her, as Y/N watched the girls with intent. 

‘Y’know, I can dance and sing too. They’re nothing special.’ He huffed, slightly perturbed by Y/N’s lack of attention.

‘Hm? Yeah I know.’ Y/N laughed, breathlessly, relenting to Rae’s tiny tantrum. ‘I’d say you’re the best dancer out of the group other than Abel.’

‘Hmph, well Abel was a swordsman for the Emperor. He can adapt to these rough boyish dances.’ Rae flipped his hair casually.

‘I was a court dancer. I performed Jeongjae for royalty. Rae gave a cocky smile, awaiting Y/N’s praise.

The girl gave him a double glance, taking in his tall stature and elegant limbs. It was clear that the boys were all able to dance, however Rae was right. He possessed a certain amount of grace that the rest of the boys made up for with vigour.

‘Huh, I can see it. When I was watching your group practice, you were quite eye-catching.’ Y/N gave him a reassuring smile, gently stoking Rae’s ego.

The pink haired man gave a hum of satisfaction, nodding in approval before the sound Y/N had dreaded pierced through the studio.

Rumi’s voice had faltered.

Y/N stepped forward instantly but her wrist was caught.

‘Where are you going.’ Rae furrowed his brow.

‘I have to talk to her. Rae, I’ll see you when I get home okay?’ Y/N wrapped her other hand around the boy’s wrist, giving him a gentle squeeze. 

Rae’s grip loosened, momentarily stunned by Y/N’s fleeting touch allowing her to slip out of his grasp.

‘You okay?’ Mira placed a hand on Rumi’s shoulder, as the girl in the centre cleared her throat.

‘Yeah. Yeah I’m fine. Let’s take it again! From the top!’ Rumi pointed, walking back to the starting position.

Y/N dug her fingernails into her palm, watching the performance start again from the beginning. A hand gently prised her fingers out of her palms, silently smoothing out her fingers. Y/N turned slightly, seeing Rae’s familiar hoodie next to her for a second before he disappeared in a puff of smoke.

‘I’m done hiding, now I’m shining like I’m born to b-’ Rumi coughed, the music cutting off instantly.

‘Uhm, Rumi? Are you okay?’ Bobby stepped forward. ‘Do you need some water?’

‘I just need five. I’m gonna take five.’ Her eyes were wide, hands covering her throat.

Protests arose, complaints flew across the room.

‘What?’

‘Five? We go live in ten minutes!’

Y/N hurriedly followed Rumi, power walking behind her.

Rumi slammed the dressing room door open, panting heavily as she ripped off a part of her costume. She practically tore off her jacket, staring into the mirror.

‘Rumi!’ Y/N caught up, running toward the trembling girl. She spotted the girl, leaning over the vanity, chest heaving.

‘Y/N… My voice…’ Rumi gasped, trembling as she touched her neck.

‘Rumi listen I know-’

‘Y/N I…’ She shook, her hands pulling up her jacket. 

‘Rumi, I know about your patterns.’ Y/N closed the door behind her calmly, walking toward the panicking girl carefully.

‘How-’

‘You never want to go to the bathhouse with Zoey and Mira. You always wear long sleeves, no matter the weather, and Celine gets this weird look on her face when she talks about demons and your mother.’ Y/N rattled off, guiding Rumi to sit down with her.

‘They used to just be on my arm. My shoulder. But they’re spreading, Y/N look.’ Rumi shakily pulled down the zipper of her collar, revealing the crawling line of purple patterns.

‘Y/N, how am I supposed to fix the world, fix me, when I don’t have my voice?’ She buried her face into her hands, ‘Why now? When I’m so close?’

‘Rumi-’

‘WHY?!’ Rumi roared, her voice a timbre that she’d never heard before. The shout rippled scarlet red through the room, like a drop in a calm surface of water. The red lines flashed through the city, as the girls gaped at the scene through the window.

Rumi let out a choked gasp, turning to Y/N in horror.

‘Y/N listen, I’m not one of them. I’m not a-’

‘Rumi.’ Y/N slipped off her seat, kneeling in front of Rumi. ‘I know you’re not a demon. This is what I wanted to talk to you about.’ She placed her hands on Rumi’s shoulders. 

‘You knew? And you’re not afraid?’ Rumi’s eyes were welling with tears of fear and uncertainty. ‘You don’t think I’m a monster?’

‘Yes. I knew and I know you're not a monster. Rumi, the only time I'm afraid of you is when I’m standing in between you and Kimbap okay?’

‘Okay.’ She sniffled, letting out a watery laugh.

‘Look. Rumi, I know you released Golden because you thought it would speed up the process.’ Y/N looked up at Rumi through her lashes, giving her shoulders a squeeze.

‘…’

‘And another thing…’ Y/N gave a sheepish smile. ‘You really should tell Mira and Zoey. They’re your family. If you put it off, it’ll be harder for them to understand why you never told them.’

‘But what if they treat me differently.’ Rumi shook her head, holding onto Y/N’s hands. ‘Celine has always told me to hide my patterns. That nothing would change until I turned the Honmoon gold.’

‘Celine was wrong. Look at me, I know you. You aren’t a bad person, your patterns are a part of who you are.’ Y/N stood up, prompting Rumi to stand with her. ‘I see you for who you are Rumi, a huntress who happens to have patterns. You may be part demon, but that doesn’t mean you’re a bad person.’

Y/N squeezed Rumi’s hands, giving her a rueful smile, ‘I’ve been told that some humans act more like demons than demons themselves. You aren’t defined by the world, Rumi. You’re defined by your actions.’

A single tear slid down Rumi’s cheek, caught by Y/N’s thumb as she brushed it away.

‘Do you really think I should tell Mira and Zoey?’

‘Without a doubt.’ 

Rumi inhaled a long breath, brushing away her unshed tears, smudging her eyeliner.

‘Okay. I’ll do it tonight.’ Rumi slipped back on her jacket. ‘Can you be there when I do?’ 

‘Yeah, of course!’ Y/N brushed off Rumi’s jacket, zipping up the girl’s collar. ‘But first, we’re gonna go get some kimbap. Come on, let's go.’ She grinned, dragging Rumi out of the room, toward the back exit. A puff of purple smoke revealed Rae, as his silhouette became visible in the corner of the room, where the girls had just left.

‘A hunter that's part demon?’ Rin’s eyes narrowed as he stared at the open door. 

–

By the time Y/N and Rumi had made it back to the Huntr/x tower, the sun had long set. Rumi was carrying a plastic bag of Kimbap and Y/N was carrying a bag of tteokbokki. They were discussing how to break the news to Mira and Zoey, deciding that they would have to make sure Celine was not around.

As the doors opened, Mira and Zoey rushed toward the girls, enveloping both in a hug.

‘We were so worried when you both disappeared.’ Zoey’s voice was muffled by Y/N’s clothes.

‘Are you both okay?’ Mira was frantic, spinning Rumi around, checking for wounds. Zoey was circling Y/N with eagle eyes.

‘We’re okay.’ Rumi laughed, placing a hand on her group member’s shoulders. ‘But I do have something I have to talk to you both about.’

‘But first, is Celine here?’ Y/N cut in, looking around the room with a raised eyebrow.

‘No, she left a while ago, we didn’t tell her about what happened.’ Zoey shook her head.

‘Okay, you guys should probably sit down for this.’ Y/N gestured towards the couch.

‘What is it?’ Mira and Zoey sat down, leaving Y/N and Rumi standing.

‘Well, first of all, I’m sorry. I’ve been keeping a secret.’ Rumi began, clasping her sweating hands together. ‘Well there's no easy way to say it so I’ll just show you. 

The leader of the girl group slowly took off her jacket, revealing her arms, littered with purple lines, jagged and jarring.

‘I have-’

‘You have patterns?’ Zoey blinked confusedly. 

‘Huh. Not what I was expecting.’ Mira’s eyes were blown wide.

‘Yes, Celine said that my father was a demon. I’ve had these patterns since I was born but Celine always says-’

‘We are hunters. Voices strong. Your flaws and faults must never be seen.’ Both girls repeated, mocking Celine.

‘Yeah… So, that's why I always kept these hidden. So that you wouldn't think I was a monster.’ Rumi ended, her voice breaking.

‘Oh Rumi…’ Zoey rushed towards Rumi, grasping at her hands. ‘We know you’re not a monster. You’re our family.’

‘She’s right, and I understand why you didn’t tell us.’ Mira also stood, placing a hand on her friend's shoulder. ‘Being told you have to hide who you are for years definitely takes a toll on you mentally.’

Y/N smiled proudly, watching the girls come to terms with their new information. 

It made sense that they were understanding. In the movie, they had already encountered Jinu and several other barriers before Rumi’s revelation. It was no wonder Zoey and Mira were scared. 

‘Y/N helped me tell you guys.’ Rumi stepped aside, grabbing Y/N’s hand from behind her. ‘I wasn’t sure if I was going to tell you but…’

‘I knew that you guys would understand.’ Y/N nodded, stepping forward. ‘And I think I have a song for you guys.’

‘Really? Already?!’ Zoey looked excited, grabbing her own notebooks.

‘Yeah, I actually used a lot of what you’ve said, from your own stories. Have a read and see if you like it.’ 

The girls read over and each teared up.

‘How do you put into words how we feel so well?’ Rumi sniffled, wiping her eyes on her sleeve.

‘The scar’s a part of me. Darkness and harmony. My voice without the lies, this is what it sounds like?’ Mira muttered in awe, ‘We don’t pay you enough do we?’

'Uh, actually I get a royalty on all your songs so... I'm actually living pretty comfortably.' Y/N laughed.

After agreeing to come up with the demo for What It Sounds Like that night, Y/N had taken a car back to her area. Remembering to thank the driver as she stepped out.

'Your hunter friend is part demon?' Y/N was greeted by an angry looking Jinu as she exited the elevator into her apartment.

'Uh, am I in trouble?' Y/N looked around, confused by the reaction of the room. All the boys seemed to be... upset?

Next

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[blackkatdraws2]

YITUR. KALLITU.

[ORV] (TW: Implications of SA, Non-consenting Pregnancy, Abuse)

"I was scared. What if I gave birth to a monster? What if my child ate me? One day, suddenly tearing out of my belly and killing me." "I was alone for countless nights, ran away and avoided monsters while feeling worried. What should I do about this child? Should I kill it, let it live, or…" - Chapter 251: Episode 47 – Demon King Selection (5)

BAH, BLASTED LINEART. HOW COME YOU LOOK BETTER, HUH?!

[Yapping Time:]

THIS WILL CONTAIN SPOILERS.

(TW: SA/Rape (analogy), Non-consenting Pregnancy, (Child) Abuse)

Hiiii it's time for me to make a serious character essay again about a silly corporate shit man that canonically birthed a child and became a mum, hellooo /silly

Chapter 1: Episode 1 – Starting the Paid Service (1)

Chapter 2: Episode 1 – Starting the Paid Service (2)

Chapter 6: Episode 2 – Protagonist (1)

Chapter 21: Episode 5 – Shadow Keeper (3)

Han Myungoh is introduced to us as a shit corporate finance department head that's self-absorbed, cowardly, and misogynistic (as he harasses Yoo Sangah because she rejected him.)

Chapter 4: Starting the Paid Service (4)

Although, he does show basic human sympathy and regards when he tries to stop Kim Namwoon from killing a weak grandmother inside the train, showing that his morals are somewhat still aligned with good despite eventually backing away and watching the murder happen alongside everyone else. Not that it makes him any less unlikable.

Chapter 7: Episode 2 – Protagonist (2)

Chapter 9: Episode 2 – Protagonist (4)

He's then shown to continuously do and say things that hinder or annoy the progress of Kim Dokja and the others in the following chapters after this. It's easy to understand why he's plain annoying.

Chapter 21: Episode 5 – Shadow Keeper (3)

Chapter 22: Episode 5 – Shadow Keeper (4)

Then when the Dark Keeper turns Han Myungoh into a "Yitur", he gets to experience one of the biggest fear/struggles of womanhood. Rape (analogy) and non-consenting pregnancy.

Chapter 206: Episode 39 – Unidentified Wall (3)

This even gets confirmed in chapter 206 when Kim Dokja thinks about how "Asmodeus’ curse consumed probability to realize the ‘most terrible thing’ that the target thought of," meaning that pregnancy was the thing that Han Myungoh feared the most after the incident with the Dark Keeper.

Now, not only was he thrust into a situation where his body was doing something he never thought was even possible, he foolishly finishes off the demon and was now being hunted down by the Demon King, Asmodeus.

Chapter 204: Episode 39 – Unidentified Wall (1)

Skipping ahead, Han Myungoh disappears for a bit and is eventually reintroduced back into the story when Kim Dokja finds him in hell, now turned into a demon due to Asmodeus' influence on him. Han Myungoh now turned into a subordinate of the Demon King, all for the sake of his daughter.

Han Dareum is the daughter Han Myungoh birthed after being impregnated by the Dark Keeper's eggs and cursed by Asmodeus. He didn't mean or want to be in this situation, but unless he wanted his daughter to die, he had to be.

For the sake of his daughter, he chooses to serve under the very same man who stole and took control over the body of his daughter in order to use her as his Incarnation Body. (Basically child abuse, even if Han Dareum was unconscious most of the time. And this is the only thing keeping Han Myungoh working under Asmodeus.)

Chapter 251: Episode 47 – Demon King Selection (5)

"Come to think of it, Han Myungoh had really experienced many things. In a sense, he might've had a harder time than me."

Kim Dokja even says this himself. Because, unlike Kim Dokja, Han Myungoh was just a completely normal middle-aged person. Gave birth, survived and raised a child all on his own, no help from the 4th-wall, no reliable people by his side, and has a Demon King actively AFTER HIM. Crazy Work.

He's not a main character by any chance, but Han Myungoh's efforts and experiences are worthy of recognition, and Kim Dokja does just that. It's insane.

Chapter 259: Episode 49 – The Best at Something (1)

Now it's said that he also has postpartum depression. (This was probably for shits and giggles on the author's part though,) and he's on a damn apocalypse, which means he's always on a high stress situation.

This scenario is completely assumption on my part, but how terrifying must it have been to have your child in your arms and feel the urge to throw it on the ground or the wall? PPD is dangerous, he must've felt the urge to do it, at least once.

Han Dareum was probably lucky she grew up faster than human children, I think Han Myungoh would've actually done it considering the, quite frankly, absurd situation and stress he's constantly put under, and shortly after childbirth too. (Unless the dude had crazy will power or they both died, which did almost happen, and it's the reason Han Myungoh gave up his daughter to Asmodeus, it was to save her.)

To top it all off, he refused to leave Han Dareum when she was taken away by Asmodeus, and his entire arc throughout the Whole Novel was literally him trying his darndest to get her back, whether it's doing dirty work for other people or being an underling of Kim Dokja's.

W parent. Han Myungoh.

_____

Of course, this doesn't mention all the things that happened to him or the things I like about him because I want to save some for later posts.

[ginalinettiofficial]

already posted one fic to ao3 today but might fuck around and post another in another fandom just to keep things spicy

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | fake marriage au [18+]

in holy matriphony ch10. what if?

ᰔ pairing. fake marriage au - neighbor&realtor!gojo x nurse!reader (ft. choso x reader & suguru x reader)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is your extremely annoying next-door-neighbor who you're pretty sure is the most insufferable man you've ever met. given the fact that you exclusively work the night shift at a chaotic emergency department, just got broken up with your boyfriend of 7 years, and have been taking care of your sick mother ever since her multitude of diagnoses, yet somehow your neighbor is the main source of stress in your life should speak volumes. but when your mother's medical bills start to skyrocket to more than you can manage, and you learn that said neighbor of yours has the best private health insurance plan in the country, you ask him to enter a matrimonial agreement with you for the spousal benefits all in the name of saving a few hundred thousand dollars. but you'll have to see if suffering cohabitation with him is worth any amount of money.

ᰔ genre/tags. fluff, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), annoyances to lovers (that's more like it), small town romance, fake marriage, next door neighbors, lots of bickering, suburban shenanigans, slow burn, mutual pining, gojo likes to play house but you don't, hatred for the american healthcare system, gojo always forgets to mow the lawn, jealousy, an insane amount of profanity, mentions of cigarettes, depression/anxiety; btw slight age gap bc gojo in this fic is 34 n reader is 29

ᰔ warnings. reader in this fic has a sick mother w alzheimer's & cancer so there is secondary medical angst!!

ᰔ chapter. 10/x

ᰔ words. 7.2k

a/n. helloooooooooo my ihm loves!!! tysm for tuning into this new chapter. sorry i am always an hour late to posting them LOL but anywho...as always...hope you enjoy...see ya at the bottom...

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Your eyes flutter open at the early hours of the morning, chest feeling flush from the deep sleep that had just enveloped you, possibly the first time in months you’ve slept through multiple hours without waking up at the top of every hour in cold sweats of stress.

The satin sheets are soft against the skin of your thighs where your nightgown has ridden up, feeling silky and smooth, and when you twist your torso a little, you feel a heaviness in the divot of your waist. Your sleepy eyes glance down to see a strong arm laying over you.

You panic at first, tensing up immediately, before you recognize it as Gojo’s. His hand lays weakly on the sheets in front of you, thumb twitching slightly in his sleep, but even in its lax state, you can still see pulsing veins trailing up the back of it, lining into his bicep into his porcelain skin that’s illuminated by the light just outside the windows. Smooth and pretty, but masculine at the same time, and you just now see that his knuckles are slightly red and there’s a small cut over the third one.

You lay still, unsure of what to do, and as you blink at the wall across from you, your mind wanders back to last night. The feeling of rage in your blood, unsettling in the moonlight, only to be completely dissolved by the feeling of Gojo’s arms pulling you into him, and holding you tight to his chest. So warm and soft, his comforting scent, the nuzzle of his chin above your head… when you close your eyes, you remember the sight of him hovering over you, that conflicted look on his face that was almost delicate with vulnerability, before it disappeared as he fell to your side and suddenly he was holding you in bed and you fell asleep in his arms. The memories have your cheeks feeling hot, and the fabric of your nightgown becomes suffocating.

You turn your head a little to glance over your shoulder, and you see that somewhere along the night, Gojo took his hoodie off, and you realize he’s shirtless behind you. Your heart beats a little faster in your chest, the otherwise shallow cadence of your early morning breathing picking up in speed, rousing you from sleep, and now you were so wide awake you could feel every sensation of his body pressed up against you from behind.

When you squirm a little, he mumbles deeply behind you before his arm curls around your waist even tighter and he pulls you in closer to him. You gasp, feeling him nuzzle his nose into your hair and his thumb presses into your rib cage right beneath your breast.  

“Satoru,” you murmur, shifting more in his strong hold, and when you do, your butt wiggles against the front of him and—

Oh.

Oh.

He’s—

He’s hard.

And you’re almost entirely shocked still from the way it feels against your ass. 

Even through the thick fabric of his sweatpants, he feels heavy and imposing and hot and big—

You wiggle your butt against him a little bit more, curiously, because you can’t help it, and he groans near your ear.

“Mm,” he mumbles, deep and guttural. “Don’t.”

“Why are you hard right now?” you hiss at him.

“Huh.” Is the only noise he makes as he tries to drift off back to sleep.

“I asked you a question.”

He shifts with a sigh. “Morning wood. Testosterone is higher in the AM. You’re a nurse, you should know that.”

“Well make it go away. It’s uncomfy.”

“How?” he asks with amusement in his voice, like he’s hoping you’ll continue to feign innocence because it was the cute thing to do.

“I don’t know. Go tug on it in the bathroom.”

You feel him exhale an amused scoff, then he presses his lips to the nape of your neck lazily, making you gasp, and you feel his mouth stretching into a smile against your warm skin. “You’re funny.”

The intimacy was searing, it spreads a heat across your entire body, and god, his voice… that deep, groggy sound that rumbles in his throat with the slight drawl in his tone…and when he presses a kiss behind your ear, it was over for you.

“Hey,” he says softly, to get your attention, his chin nuzzling the crown of your head, “thank you.”

“For what?” you exhale, somewhat airy, as if trying to prove that you’re not entirely affected by his touch.

He kisses the side of your neck. “For last night.”

Your heart is beating fast, and you blink a few times before you say, “I’m still mad at you.”

He sighs. “I figured as much,” he says and then he drops his head back down onto the pillow in retreat.

Would it be so wrong?

Is the question you ask yourself.

You’ve already pushed his buttons before,

And maybe it wasn’t wise to do so again,

Given the emotionally charged and rather tender moment you two shared last night,

One that has your head swimming with what-ifs that were still left unanswered,

But you find yourself wanting him now more than ever.

A feeling you don’t want to confront in your head,

But one you feel coarse throughout your body.

You let out a shaky breath and push yourself back against his front, feeling his rigid erection press up against the flesh of your ass, and he lets out a choked groan, one that sounds both aroused and mostly confused, before his arm slides down from under your breasts to hold you around your lower torso instead, almost anchoring you to whatever grinding movements you were making against him.

“You keep this up,” he says, “and I can’t make any promises about what happens next.”

You shuffle your thighs, both because you were aroused but also to coyly deflect any responsibility in riling him up, despite the fact that your ass still brushes against his front from the motion. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you quip, innocently. 

“You’re lucky that I play along,” he says, and it felt like a reference to all of the times he just chooses to deal with your sporadic attitudes like it was no big deal even though you’re sure it would frustrate the hell out of any other man. 

His arm suddenly releases hold of your waist, then his palm smooths over the hill of your hip and down the velvet skin of your thigh, the texture of his hand rough compared to the duvet half-laying over you right now. You clench your thighs together, any and all movements of yours coming to a halt from the violent reaction you have to his touch, and there’s a small little voice in your head that’s screaming bad bad bad bad bad bad BAD idea to let him touch you like this but when he kisses down the curve of your neck, it’s entirely drowned out.

“Waiting for you to slap me,” he mumbles, “aaaaaany second now.”

“I’ve sworn off violence,” you gasp when his fingers feather a touch near your inner thigh.

“How convenient.” He pulls you in closer to him as he continues to tease you with his fleeting touch. “Your skin is so soft,” he says, pads of his fingers pressing into the plush of your thigh, his thumb hooking up the hem of your nightgown to gain more access. His nose brushes the hair away at the nape of your neck before he inhales indulgently. “Smells nice too.”

“Satoru.” Maybe it was a warning, or maybe it was just an acknowledgement of the man behind you that’s slowly touching parts of you that were unmapped by him before. Hell, it could’ve even come off as an encouraging moan of his name, for all you knew. You could hardly hear yourself think, let alone what you say.

When his lips press more firmly on the side of your neck, at that sensitive curve of supple skin, you’re unable to hide the reaction your body has to him anymore, a soft moan leaving your lips as you squirm with arousal and a borderline impatience. He pushes his front against your backside in response to the noise, and your eyes shut close to intensify the feeling.

He’s less chatty than usual, and you figure it’s because he’s sleepy and his brain’s not working, and maybe that’s why he’s tolerable to you right now, enough so to where you’re not too pissed off or annoyed at something he has said or done, hence why he has the opportunity to snake his hand up the front of your torso right now without you smacking him across the face for it. At least that’s the excuse you’ll tell yourself.

When his thumb brushes against your nipple, you let out an airy moan and press your entire body back against him with full desire.

“Fuck, you don’t wear anything underneath these?” he all but growls, his hand cupping your breast, gently kneading the softness that he finds and you swear you feel his cock jump in his boxers.

“W-Why would I wear a bra while I’m sleeping and at home?” you breathlessly manage to say.

“Well it’s hard for me to picture you braless underneath gowns that make you look like a 17th century pilgrim.”

Oh. Okay, yeah, there it was. That urge to smack him.

But the thought melts away when his thumb and index finger pinch your nipple, harsh in grip but gentle when he pulls on it, and you’re fully grinding your ass against him at this point, the arousal coiling tightly in your lower tummy, only barely relieved by the tight press of your thighs together.

The large span of his hand squeezes both your tits at the same time, making you moan against the pillow, a sound he reacts to by fully bucking his hips against your rear. “God, knowing that you don’t wear anything underneath these is gonna torture me whenever I see you around the house now,” he acknowledges with a sigh, forehead dropping to rest on your temple as his messy fringe falls against your eyelashes. 

The warmth of his hand leaves your chest as it finds its way smoothing down your midriff, and he briefly digs the heel of his palm into the soft plush of your lower belly, almost as if to experiment, and you completely jump and then writhe in his hold from the ache of pleasure that courses through you. He’s pressing open mouthed wet kisses against your neck now, more liberal with the groans and grunts that he leaves against the wake of your feverish skin as he grinds against you, and the tips of his fingers slip past the band of your panties but—

He can’t get any further than that.

His lips leave your neck and he lifts his head up a little to glance at the state of your thighs, and then he looks down at your face. “Spread your legs.”

You pull a pillow to your face so you can hide your flushed cheeks from him. You’re breathing fast and then sniffle a little against the cover. “Too much,” you muffle into it.

For fucks sake, you weren’t a virgin. You’ve had your fair share of sex in this life at your age, as you’re sure he has too. Yet for some reason the sensations, the touches, the sounds, everything he’s giving you feels so much more intense than anything else you’ve ever had in your life and you’re not sure you can handle it. At least not in any way where you can hide how deeply, deeply, deeply turned on you were right now.

“It’s okay,” he says, voice surprisingly reassuring, but that somehow makes you blush even more, and he gently nips at the lobe of your ear with his teeth while his thumb rubs soothing circles over your lower belly, “it’ll feel good. Promise. And if it’s too much, just elbow me in the ribs.”

“Thaf’s not a proffer (propper) safeword,” you muffle into the pillow.

“Baby. I don’t mean to sound rude, but do you really need a safeword just for me to touch your pussy?”

Oh.

Hearing him so casually call you baby right now did something to you…and there’s no way to even put it into words, just a feeling of visceral arousal that has you instantly melting and sweetly opening your legs for him, and he kisses the hill of your cheekbone before he settles his head back down on the pillow. He gives you his outstretched arm to rest on, your head falling on top of his warm muscled bicep, all your day-two salon blowout hair scattered across the pillow and tickling his skin, and you have to hold your breath when his hand slips right into your panties and his middle and ring fingers glide between your slick folds.

“Fuck,” he shakily exhales behind you, his touches moving with ease from the wetness, smearing it up to your clit where he rubs soft, teasing, agonizingly slow circles that match the lucidity of his sleepy state, “you’re so wet.” 

“N—” you gasp when he draws them faster. “I’m not,” you insist. 

“You’re gonna argue with me right now when I’ve got the proof all over my fingers?” he drawls near your ear, abandoning your clit in favor of slipping two of his thick fingers inside of you so suddenly that your entire body curls up in pleasure, thighs clenching together tightly but his hand is still strong enough to move between their pressure as he slowly pumps his fingers in and out, in and out, in and out of you, curled upwards to that spot inside that has you seeing white. 

You moan with no concern of the sound anymore, freely and whiny into the air, and he ruts his hips against your ass in response to the noise, which only elicits more from you. “Keep ‘em spread,” he tells you, voice strained through his own arousal, knuckles pushing up on your inner thigh to prod you open. 

Ten minutes ago, he’d have never even gotten close to seeing let alone touching the most intimate parts of you. And now, his fingers are knuckle deep inside of you. But it wasn’t enough, you’ve become greedy, and you want more.

“Satoru—” you whine, hand shooting out to grab his wrist, feeling the tilt of it towards your pussy as he continues to casually finger you while you struggle to listen to him—…struggle to keep your thighs open in the face of the desperate arousal that spreads across all your senses. “Mm, faster—”

“Would you kill me if I asked you to beg for it?” he huffs, but you can hear the grin in his voice, like he knew he was pushing it, that insufferably cocky side of him you’d usually despise if you didn’t feel his slick knuckles against your inner thigh every time he pushed his fingers all the way inside.

You turn your face into his outstretched arm, eyes shut close. “Just—” He cuts you off when his thumb finds your swollen clit, the coarse pad of it running over the bundle of nerves as he shallowly continues to fuck you with his fingers, “just do it faster—”

He slows down the pace, thumb entirely abandoning your clit all together, making you gasp, and you hear his voice near your ear when he says, “how about a ‘please’?”

“Oh my god, okay, please, you asshole!” you all but scream, nails digging into his wrist now, dangerously close to his pulse, and you make a mental note to kill him for this later, but you don’t get past the first few words in your head before you hear him say,

“Ehh I’ll take what I can get,” and then the pure pleasure of his fingers relentlessly slamming into you takes over anything else.

He kisses the crown of your head, murmuring words of sweet praise into your hair, words you couldn’t even make out if you tried, because that dull ache of pleasure in your lower belly just builds and builds and builds, even further when you glance down at the sight of him pumping his fingers inside of you over and over. Your head plops down onto the pillow gently when his arm escapes from under, so that he can wrap it around your waist, trying his best to hold you still as you squirm from the pure pleasure, but he abandons the attempt to impatiently yank your gown up instead, your warm breasts becoming exposed to cold air and he squeezes them in his hand roughly before pinching your nipple, making you writhe and arch your back. The grip you had on the wrist of his pounding hand was now seethingly harsh, nails digging deep enough to draw blood, borderline trying to slow him down from just how seriously he took your request for him to go faster, because it was almost too much, but in the most blisteringly arousing way possible.

“Please, Satoru, I’m so close—” you whine, and the second he hears the hint of a plea in your voice, his other hand slips past the fabric of your panties and finds your clit, all four fingers relentlessly rubbing back and forth against the sensitive bud, making you scream, the heel of his palm placing a constant pressure on your lower belly, and when he curls his fingers inside of you, hitting that sweet spot that makes you see stars, you completely come undone, your orgasm washing over you as your walls flutter around his fingers that continue to coax you through every pulsating sensation, moans spilling from your lips, squirming from the pleasure, before you’re completely spent and your body slowly goes limp, relaxed, face halfway shoved into the pillow and teary eyes shut close in ecstasy, hand laying weakly in front of you on top of satin sheets as you try to regain your breath.

You hear Gojo huffing slightly behind you too. He pulls his fingers out of you and you can barely see over your shoulder that he brings them to his mouth. Fuck you need to see it. Need to see the sight of him licking them clean. But all you hear in time is the lewd pop sound when he pulls his fingers out of his mouth.

“Oh my god,” he practically hisses, sucking a sharp breath in through his teeth, and he sounds desperate when he says, “let me eat you out, please—”

“No—” you gasp, a little too quickly and a little too sharp, perching yourself up onto your elbow slightly so you can turn your head to look at him. He’s looking at you with wide blue eyes, completely at halt, like whatever your next wish was would be his command. But he also looks like he wants to stuff his face between your thighs. The duality of man.

You’re still heaving from your orgasm, feeling misty in your chest, eyelashes fluttering with a slight hesitation to say what’s on your tongue because you know it’s only because you’re scared of the intimacy, and yet you want it all at the same time, too.

“Just fuck me,” you say, and to prevent sounding needy, “I have places to be.”

You briefly bite your tongue in regret over the addition, worrying it sounded pretentious and cunty and perhaps too princessy for his taste, but instead he loses his shit. Evident in the broken and desperate groan that leaves his lips, the way he immediately starts fumbling with his sweatpants then his boxers to pull himself out and press the hot tip of his erection against your ass, insanely relished in the fact that you just asked him to fuck you, which should sound like music to his ears at this point based on how strained and hard his boner’s been poking at your ass for the past twenty minutes. And it’s a strange concept, one that has you feeling delirious with confidence as you realize that one of the hottest men you know feels like he’s the lucky one here because he gets to stick his dick inside of you.

You fall back down onto your side in as casual of a way as you could manage, and his strong arm immediately wraps tight around your waist to pull all the softness of you against all the rigidity of him, into that same spooning position that got you into this arousing mess in the first place. You can feel him shifting quickly behind you, mattress dipping with hasty movements as he slides a palm between your thighs then lifts one up to spread you open for him, and then he’s pumping himself in his hand, once, twice, face buried in the crook of your neck as he indulges in a few broken groans, the sound making you point your knee high up towards the ceiling, cheeks flush and almost ashamed by how badly you need him to tear your open right now. There’s no teasing, or tormenting, or taunting from him like there usually is, all of that skipped on the basis of the sheer desperation that coats the shaky breaths he continues to exhale behind you. He lets you bite down on his hand as he yanks your soaked panties to the side and rubs his throbbing length between your slick folds, tip bumping against your clit, his precum smearing over it before he wraps a fist around his cock to position himself at your entrance and then slowly stretches you out, inch by inch, murmuring a deep and sleepy shhh it’s okay near your ear when he hears you whine and whimper from the heavy intrusion, before he’s buried to the hilt inside of you.

“Oh my god,” he sighs, almost at the same time that you do too, and you hear him swallow hard, his cock twitching inside of you. His arm wraps around you tighter, pulling you flush against his front as he presses sweet kisses behind your ear and you two just stay like this for what feels like eternity, his chest expanding in rugged and uneven breaths, like he’s savoring the sensation of being inside of you, before you just can’t take it anymore and wiggle your hips for him to just move already.

“Please, Satoru,” you whine, sniffling a little from the pure arousal, your nails digging into the skin of his forearm, “please—, move.”

He gently nibbles the lobe of your ear, withdrawing his hips back until he’s almost all the way out, save for the tip, before languidly pushing into you again, and your hand reaches out to grab the pillow in front of you to shove your face into to muffle your moan. 

“I must still be dreaming,” he groans, slowly fucking you now with no rhythm or pace, just pure instinct like this is what he was made for, “there’s just—fuck,” he grunts when you clench around him tightly, “there’s just no way you’re letting me do this right now.”

“Mmff,” you muffle into the pillow, pushing your ass against his hips as your form of charity, and he uncrosses one of his arms from your waist so that his hand can snake up to cup your breast in his palm, and all the words you could possibly come up with in your head dissolve into a moan of pleasure instead.

“So tight, god, you feel so good,” he mumbles, his nose nuzzling into your hair as he breathes in deep, and you feel like your cheeks are on fire.

As he continues to knead your breast in his palm, then the other, then squeezes both at the same time, you rock your hips back gently into his, your arm reaching behind yourself, fingertips grazing the short hair of his undercut before you find yourself gripping at the soft tufts above it. You hear him inhale sharply, then he kisses your temple in encouragement as his thrusts pick up in pace and you feel that simmering ache of pleasure in your lower belly grow fiercer. Like he can read your mind, his hand leaves your tits, smoothing down your torso to lay flat against your lower belly, and he sighs in content when he can feel how deep he is underneath his palm over your belly.

You sigh into the pillow, over and over again, as he minds his business in rutting his hips into yours and makes it clear to you that he’s more than enjoying himself from the guttural groans that leave his lips from the pleasure. And when you arch your back further, an invitation that he just can’t refuse, he’s suddenly turning over, making you roll onto your stomach, and he holds himself up on one arm with his chest pressed firmly to your back before he pulls your panties halfway down your thighs and slides a pillow under your tummy, your hips now raised higher for him to slip his cock right into you again, so smooth from how slick you are but you still feel that delicious stretch from the girth of him, and the angle that he gets on you like this, with your ass up in the air, paired by the feeling of his balls slapping against your skin with every thrust that he resumes on you, has you about ready to scream.

“S-Satoru—” you whimper, arms stretching out in front of you as you push your ass back into him, forehead plopping down onto the pillow in front of you, soft hair covering your face as he pounds into you. “Mm—…oh…oh my god.”

“Fuck,” he grunts in between heavy thrusts, hips stuttering briefly from the sound of your moans, “y’know, I always pictured you’d be kinda prissy in bed,” he huffs, leaning over to pull the short sleeve of your flimsy nightgown down your arm to expose bare shoulder so he can kiss you there, “but you’re actually kinda cute.”

“That’s not—ah!” you gasp when he picks up the speed, like he already knows you’re about to argue with him over it, “Satoru!” You yelp, half in frustration, half in pure ecstasy, and you can feel his annoying grin against the curve of your shoulder as he kisses his way up to the side of your neck.

“C’mon baby, just leave it at that, yeah?” he purrs near your ear, his hand coming up to lightly pinch your nipple, “not everything has to be an argument.”

“Mm,” you muffle your irritation into the pillow, high pitched and whiny which he seems to find arousingly amusing given the huff of a laugh he exhales on the nape of your neck and the way you feel his cock jump inside of you, and then he’s nuzzling his nose into your hair again, freely, messily, rubbing his cheek against soft, tousled strands as he sighs with content, and then suddenly, he’s wrapping an arm around your ribcage just under your breasts, and pulling you upright with him so that you’re effectively leaning back against his chest with an arch to your back as he continues to fuck you from behind.

“Seriously, I mean it,” he lowly murmurs near your ear as you tilt your head back onto his shoulder in pure pleasure, and he rubs his cheek affectionately against your hair at the crown of your head while you dig your nails into the skin of his forearm tucked underneath your breasts, “you look so pretty with your hair like this,” he breathes out, almost broken, and it nearly makes you cry when he kisses your cheekbone over the splayed strands of bangs that sit over the curve, “so insanely pretty.”

You were gone, you just didn’t care anymore. With exactly sixteen sweet words, you were done for. You didn’t even realize a man worshiping your hair in the middle of sex was ever something that would have you so down bad on your knees, but you had never felt more deliriously hazy in your life. And you almost want to tell him to just pull on it, then, if he likes it so much, but there’s a simmering feeling at the base of your heart that just wants him to keep being gentle with you instead.

“Satoru, please—” you moan, throat loose and airy, thighs desperately clenching together with need, which only makes you squeeze around him even tighter and the effects of it shows in the way he drops his forehead to your shoulder, his fringe tickling your skin as he breathes heavily.

“God you’re squeezing me so tight you’re gonna cut the circulation off of my dick,” he scoffs, poorly containing just how turned on it makes him feel, and he gently leans over to lay you back down on your stomach so that your cheek is pressed into the pillow and he’s back to fucking you from behind while your ass is up in the air.

“That’s not how that—mm, works, you idiot—“ You struggle to say as heat spreads across your chest, and that tight coil in your tummy pulls more taut with each thrust, to where you feel your vision start to spot, and like he can tell you’re on the edge, his hand snakes down between your thighs and the rough pads of his fingers start to draw circles over your clit, making you gasp so sharply it feels like your throat has gone hoarse.

“C’mon, baby,” he groans, his thrusts picking up in speed along with everything else. He’s panting and heaving, and you feel a droplet of sweat fall from his face onto the back of your neck.

With one more pass of his fingers over your clit, you shut your eyes close, your entire body curls inwards and your orgasm washes over you in pleasureful waves, making you scream out a moan as you squeeze around Gojo’s cock over and over, and you feel his thrusts grow erratic, insane, all loss of tempo and rhythm, his grunts above you sounding so sonically desperate and it’s only when you feel the stutter of his hips, that you barely gain enough sane conscience in the whirlwind of pleasure swimming in your head to remember you have to tell him—

“Wait, Satoru—” you gasp, entirely sober from the delirium, “n-not inside, you can’t.”

“Huh?” he breathes out, in caution, like he had just been on the verge of cumming inside of you, then exhales a breathy—“fuck,” at the implication, and he stays inside of you until the very end of his composure, like he didn’t want to waste a single second of being inside of you, to where you could physically feel his balls jump against your clit with the last thrust he makes right before he pulls out and quickly replaces the squeeze of your cunt with the squeeze of his hand instead, and although you can barely see it over your shoulder, you can just picture it— how hot he looks as he pumps himself over your back with a fucked out groggy expression all over his handsome face. 

“Shit, shit, shit— I’m gonna—” He fumbles with your nightgown to try to pull it up so he doesn’t completely soil it with his cum, but he only succeeds in pulling it up halfway before you feel hot spurts land on the fabric, sporadically painted across the exposed skin of your back, over your ass, your thighs, hell you’re even sure some of it landed in your hair as you hear him groan over and over behind you, a sound so lost in pleasure it has you reeling thinking about how you’re the one that’s causing it, and even after just having had an orgasm, your walls still clench around nothing from the thought.

When he has no more to give, he lets out a shaky breath, one that could constitute as a satisfied sigh, before he flops down onto his back next to you, chest heaving heavily, lips parted with deep breaths, eyes wide as he stares up at the ceiling and shakes his head like he’s in shock before he turns his neck to look at you.

You’re breathing heavily, then shove your face into the pillow, chest laying over your balled up fists you have kept near your rapidly beating heart, and you hear the heaviness in his breathing as well beside you, the sound intensified by the tight shut of your eyes, and you finally feel the horny haze in your head clearing slightly from the early hours of the morning.

The mattress shifts underneath you with Gojo’s weight as you feel him turn onto his side, and he curls an arm around your waist, pulling you in towards him.

And it occurs to you,

It finally occurs to you,

That you two just had sex.

He presses his lips lightly to the top of your head in nothing less than a kiss, before murmuring in a soft voice, “c’mon, let’s go clean you up–”

You slip out from under his arm, from out of the bed, and BOOK it to the bathroom like your life depended on it, shutting the door behind you, and then twisting the lock before you place your palms flat on the surface, huffing and puffing panicked breaths.

It only takes Gojo about five seconds to attempt to open the door, have a moment of brief confusion when he finds that it’s locked, and then knocks. “Wha—…y/n? The fuck? Is everything okay?”

“No! I mean–...yes! I mean–...I don’t know!” you yell.

Even through the wooden barrier of the door, you swear you can see him blink as his face twists with confusion, entirely perplexed by your behavior.

You breathe in deep, and exhale slowly, then rest your forehead on the surface of the door, glancing down at your feet over the cool tile of the bathroom. You shut your eyes close as you still feel the ghostly sensations of his arms handling you in bed, hands roaming across your skin, the feeling of him inside of you–

You shake your head to push the memories away, an almost visceral reaction to them, and it’s mostly silence for what feels like forever but was most likely only a minute, when you hear Gojo say on the other side of the door–

“Just come out here. Let me see you.”

You shake your head, as if he would have any way of seeing your refusal, before you say, “no, I’m–...I’m going to take a shower.”

He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, and you don’t wait to hear whatever response he does give before you’re turning the hot water on in the shower, to drown out any noise, including the sound of your own pestering thoughts.

You pull your nightgown up over your head, tossing it into a corner of the bathroom along with your panties, open the mosaic glass door to the shower, and walk underneath the overhead shower head, the water trickling down your now tousled, soiled hair, whatever style or curl that it had been smoothed into the day before now falling from the strands, until it’s flatly soaked with water, and you run your hand through your hair, still letting go of soft, remnant huffs of air from your lips to try and come down from the intense feelings that sit in your chest.

What did this mean, now? You two crossed a line that was quite literally never supposed to be crossed. Not according to your rules, or your silly contract, or any notion of this fake marriage. Will this make things awkward? Will this make things feel more real? Will this sort of thing happen again? Would you be able to stop yourself from letting it happen again? 

And will this just further complicate the confusing feelings that you seem to have for Gojo?

What were the possibilities after this, if any?

You’re surprised to find that there’s a small part of you inside, give or take once any of the awkwardness passes, that is for once not afraid to explore the what-ifs.

You step out of the shower, the steam feeling sticky on your skin as you wrap a towel around yourself and then wipe a hand across the foggy mirror to see your reflection. You look fresh, clean, no longer sleepy or dazed, but you blink at the sight of you as you still feel flushed at the chest, and sad that the hair he likes so much is now gone.

How can a person feel so sure and yet so conflicted about one single thing?

Once you finish freshening up, you open the door to get back into the room, but not without peeking your head around to see if Gojo’s still there, only to see that he’s not. And so you apprehensively step out into the room, quickly get dressed, try to dry your hair off the best you can in a hurry, and then—

Your stomach growls.

“Ah,” the soft sound leaves your lips.

You didn’t even do any of the work and you’re hungry?

Your own green sickens you.

You waft across the floors of the loft in your fresh nightgown, then peek your head over the railing of the stairs to see if you hear any noises, but you don’t.

“Mm?” you hum in confusion, then slowly make your way down the stairs.

Having successfully evaded all the creaky wood, you turn the post at the bottom, making your way towards the kitchen but quietly, stealthily, the Pink Panther theme song playing in your head as you tread the wooden floors like a spy.

Your heart was beating fast in your chest, and when you made it to the kitchen, it’s empty. You round the kitchen island, trace the marbled surface with the pad of your index finger.

Where did he go?

And then you realize— it smells like fresh coffee.

You turn around near the pantry, and just at that moment, Gojo comes walking out of it and nearly collides with you in his stride.

“Oh shit—” he says, hand darting out to hold your elbow so you don’t fall backwards onto your butt, and just from that contact alone, you’re searing.

You yank your arm out of his grip and stare at him with a panic. He’s still shirtless, wearing his loosely hung black sweatpants, but his face looks freshened up and his hair is flattened down in an attempt to tame it, and he’s squinting at you like he doesn’t have his contacts in and is struggling to make out what kind of expression you’re offering him.

“Hey,” he says, “can we talk—”

You weren’t ready to talk about it yet. 

Didn’t have enough time to have an existential crisis over it.

And as if God was on your side, the doorbell rings.

“Ah!! Gotta get that!!” you chirp before turning on your heel towards the main entrance, but he reaches out to grab your wrist, making your breath hitch.

“Just hold on one sec—”

“I can’t,” you say, and you both hear the doorbell ring again, “it’s probably the highschoolers I shoo’d off yesterday because I didn’t have any cash to give for their fundraiser. I promised I’d go to the ATM.” You yank out of his hold. “Highschoolers are scary. Don’t wanna make ‘em wait!!! Or they’ll…egg…your house?” You say, blinking at him, the same way he’s blinking at you, because you’re just as confused about what you said as much as he probably is. “Ah…ahahah,” you let out some forced laughter, which most definitely just sounds awkward. You take two steps forward towards the hall, but then turn around to face him again. “Um. Also. If you have any cash on you, that’d be great. I forgot to go to the ATM.”

His expression suggests that he is just so entirely confused by you, and then he watches as you beeline to the door.

You breathe in deep, then exhale slow, tuck some damp strands behind your ear, and just try your best to calm down your beating heart before you yank open the door, fully prepared to see some obnoxious teenagers, when—

You’re met with a wide-eyed, surprised-looking Sylvie standing at the front door instead.

“Ah?” you softly exclaim.

She blinks blankly, her mouth that had been slightly agape at the sight of you closing as if she found it to be too improper of a reaction for her standards, and she smooths down the fabric of the bright blue denim waistcoat she was wearing, her palms gliding down to the matching dress pants, and then tucks her neat hair behind her ear.

“Sylvie?” you blink in surprise, “w-what are you doing here?”

She creases her brow at you, then leans back to check the house number to the side of the doorframe to check if she’s got the right house, and then her gaze shifts back to you. “What are you doing here, y/n?”

“Oh, that’s—” Your voice trails off gently, suddenly unsure, but then you find it again. “That’s what I asked you.”

“What are you doing here?” she asks again, eye contact unwavering, and somewhat impatient.

“Is a ten dollar bill enough? Or do you need a twenty?” You hear Gojo’s voice as he approaches from the side in your periphery while fishing through bills in his wallet, still gloriously shirtless and somewhat disheveled from sex and sleep, and he runs a hand through his hair before he walks right up to you, hands you a couple of bills and says, “ehhh just give ‘em a couple of twenties.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary anymo—” you start, but then his face lifts and he’s glancing towards outside of the door.

It was like something out of a movie, the way you would describe it. The way his face twists from relaxed, somewhat disinterested, into full-blown, unadulterated shock. The way his shoulders stiffen, he’s rendered still, chest decompressing with the exhale he huffs out. You’ve never seen the blue in his eyes so clearly before, not with the way they’ve never been so wide in all the time that you’ve known him, and it breaks your heart—how pretty they are.

“S—” he starts, but the syllable gets caught in his throat.

Your gaze slowly pans from him to Sylvie, who stands just outside the door, and you find that, as her eyes shift between the two of you, her expression is the exact same as his. Wide, shocked, but there was something else in there too. But just the idea of deciphering what it could be, what it could mean, makes you feel so entirely discouraged, like a stranger in your own skin, and it makes your shoulders sulk, same with the sink of your heart towards the center of the Earth.

With eyes flicking back to Gojo, you blink at him once slowly, then twice, feeling like you were out of breath from just standing alone.

You didn’t even need to ask who she was to him. You can tell by the way he’s looking at her.

Sylvie is his ex-wife.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

[end of ch10. 'what if?']

[end of in holy matriphony: season 1]

song of the chapter: 'boyish' by japanese breakfast

a/n. mann i would hate to be gojo rn LOL anywho, thank you sm for readinggg <33 aaaaaaa i'm so nervous to kick off all the DRAMA and angst but............ i'm also very excited 🤭 i am once again shitting bricks posting this chapter bc i just get so nervous posting smut, idk maybe cuz i hardly post it but idk it just is so nervewracking??? and feels so vulnerable??? ahaha i imagine it gets easier the more you post it but like DAMN idk how the jjk smut authors do it. i feel more vulnerable posting this than any other chapter 🤣🤣 buuuuuut i also enjoyed writing it 🤭hehe. apologies for any typos i wrote it w one handKSDJFH im joking i just love this whole two steps forward one step back dynamic btwn reader n gojo like it's the stuff i LIVEEE for in slowburns...i'm so excited to write all the complicated emotions that come w sleeping w a man n then his EX WIFE SHOWS UP AT THE DOOR NOT EVEN AN HOUR AFTER...hell yea huuuuge and i mean BIG and i meannnn COLLOSAL shout out to my lovely beta reader leni, who held my hand as i edited this chapter lol. i had an absolute blast running this one by you 🤣🤣 tysm to all my readers who support this story <3 i was so blown away by the love w ch9, it was a behemoth to edit, and SO challenging to write. i wanted to write a lengthier author's note for that chapter bc i had SO much to say about my writing process for it but i lowkey got lazy LOL but yea it definitely tested my writing abilities the most i think of anything i've put out so far. so i really am so glad it was well received! as you may have seen, this marks the end of ihm season 1!!! sort of a cliffhanger i'm sorryyy i don't usually enjoy leaving chapters on cliffhangers but i just love the open endedness of this scene :'') ihm will be going on a bit of a break after this. i want to spend a little bit of time hashing out some of the details for the next part of the story, and also take a little time off writing! ...its ok ihm gojo my beloved... i’ll be back soon lol i sound like i'm going fucking mental. anyways. once again thanks so much for all the likes, comments, reblogs, asks etc <3 interacting w you guys is a great part of my joy these days. hope you all have a lovely day/night! ah also!!! ihm playlist!!! finally debuting it!! still a tiny bit of a work in progress but you can find it here: playlist. i name it herbal seedlings bc idk all i could think about was reader’s herb garden - ellie 🧚‍♀️✨

➸ you're all caught up!

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[mountainsandmayhem]

Pairing: Millionaire Joel Miller x Female Reader

Rating: 18+ 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️

Updated Word Count: ~90k

Series Summary: After recently graduating from university, your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. It’s only temporary and a good way to save money for when you go back to get your law degree. That’s what you’re promised at least. Easy. Simple. Mundane. That is, until one of your clients is home and everything that you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.

Content Warning: In order to avoid spoilers I will not be warning you of everything. This story will contain sexually explicit material around the world of BDSM. Please remember that even with the age gap betweeen Joel and Reader, they are both legal and consenting adults. Although my intentions are never to trigger anyone, you are solely responsible for the content you consume. That being said, as a survivor of sexual assault none of this story will contain dubcon or consensual non consent. At the heart of it all, this is a love story.

AN: I figured that @mermaidgirl30, @littlevenicebitch69, @burntheedges and @joelmillerisapunk are all sick of me yelling at them about this story so I should start sharing! Thank you to the 4 of you for all your kind words and encouragement. To the 800+ of you that follow me, thank you for being such beautiful souls and encouraging me to work on my craft. I hope you love this series as much as I love each and every one of you. Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5 - Part One

Chapter 5 - Part Two

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Epilogue

Follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates and turn on notifications for updates.

[electricgg]

Ancient Dreams In A Modern Land

Chapter 11: Say What You Want, But Say It Like You Mean It With Your Fists For Once

Masterlist

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 (Here!) / Chapter 12 / Chapter 13 (Part 1) (Part 2) /

The Rogues Gallery had its own section inside the Batcave’s archive.

From the very beginnings of Batman’s crusade for justice in this crime-ridden city, he had built a handmade archive with information about each of his later named ‘rogues’. From their fall into crime to behavioral and blood analysis taken straight out of Arkham’s own archives. 

Including their family history.

As time passed, all those files, investigations, and profiles were moved digitally to the hard drive of the Batcomputer, but Bruce still kept the old archive. Most of the boys suspected it was out of practicality, since in the past, technology had failed them more than once, and keeping the original documents had proved them useful.

But now? They were questioning its real motive.

“You’re right,” Dick muttered, flipping through the pages of the file Damian and Tim had shoved into his hands the moment he got inside Tim’s room. “There’s missing information here.”

Damian tutted, his frustrated scowl deepening on the corner of his lips. “Outstanding observation, Grayson.”

“Can you recall anything that could be missing from the file?” Tim questioned, tapping away on his laptop without looking away from the bright screen.

Dick, still somewhat pale from puking for almost half an hour on the bathroom, huffed a sigh with an exhausted stare. He passed the pages back to the front of the file, where an introductory record paper was written in old black ink.

The name at the top of the paper brought a cold sensation down his spine.

Harvey Dent

It had been a while since that name was mentioned. Two-Face had been thrown in Arkham Asylum three years ago and hadn’t broken out of there in that period. Dick wasn’t present at the time of the arrest, Bruce had done it all on his own without backup. 

He had even denied showing his body camera footage of that night.

Not even Barbara had managed to find the footage. Dick discared the whole situation as a tech failure, since it had been more than once that the body cameras were crushed in a fight or simply stopped working.

Maybe he should have looked more into it.

“It’s the family record,” he muttered. “It’s not completed. There’s a missing relative.”

Damian’s eyebrows furrowed. “Who?”

“Bianca Dent,” he sighed, taking a seat on Tim’s bed. His weight made the mattress sink, gaining a hiss from Tim, the sudden movement almost snapped him away from his concentration.

“She was Dent’s twin sister. Bruce took me to a few of her plays back when I started as Robin.”

He remembered her quite well. Such a tall woman with a captivating voice left quite the impression on his eight-year-old self. 

──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ────

“And who might this be?”

Dick had taken refuge behind Bruce’s legs, staring widely at the elegant and glamorous woman that had leaned forward to get a closer look at the shy young boy. 

Defined dark brown curls, pinned by hairpins. Neat makeup, not a single imperfection in sight. A beauty mark that accentuated her deep, brown, soulful eyes that crinkled at the corners due to the warm smile on her painted lips. She was still wearing her costume, a Spanish dress with ruffles on the skirt and a corset, both in vivid red that stood out against her white shirt, which fell down her shoulders.

Bruce chuckled, his hand gently reassuring Dick by pressing on the back of his head. “This is Dick, he is my ward.”

“What a funny title,” she poked, giving the older man a smirk. “Saying that he’s your son is not that hard, you know.”

The sudden flustered look and cough from Bruce got a laugh from Dick. The woman laughed, taking a knee down to brush off a few strands of hair out of Dick’s face.

“I’m Bianca,” she said. “I’m an old friend of your old man over here.”

“And what does that make you, Bia? Last time I checked, we all have the same age.”

The woman rolled her eyes, getting up from the floor to look back at the approaching man as he came down the hall.

If Bruce was the tallest man Dick had ever met, this other man was easily taking the title. Dark curls, tanned skin, and a grin on his lips. Dressed sharply in grey colors and holding a large bouquet of yellow roses and other types of flowers in the same color.

“Indeed,” She drawled, giving the man a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek, to which he copied. “But, I wear it better than the two of you combined.”

“She got us there, Harv,” Bruce jested with a smirk, gaining a light shove in the shoulder from the other man.

“Don’t give her the satisfaction,” Harv groaned. “She feeds on attention and becomes insufferable.”

Bianca scoffed loudly, snatching the bouquet and hitting Harv over the head with it. Looking smug when he complained and glared at her. “I’m not the one with his face plastered all over the city while grinning like some low-budget toothpaste announcement.”

“I’m not the one getting paid for just screaming at the top of my lungs like some wailing goat.” He snapped back.

“At least one of us has refined tastes,” she shot, her left eye twitching as she snapped her gaze back at Bruce. “Right, Bruce?”

“I think that’s our cue to leave, chum.” He chuckled, taking a few steps back while Dick stared at those two.

Now, as they stood besides each other, Dick could see the uncanny resemblace between them. Same eye shape. Same nose. Same eyebrows. Same skin tone. Even their form of speech sounded similar.

“Of course,” Harv snorted. “Leave me at the hands of the bi-witch!” He stuttered at the end, glancing down at the kid with a laugh before Bianca hit him once again with the flowers. She then pulled at his ear, grumbling a ‘Language’ while he yelped and switched to a smile directed at the young boy.

“Excuse my dumb brother, he doesn’t know how to behave in public.” She said, getting a glare from Harv while he rubbed his throbbing ear.

Dick simple laughed at the display before him, getting the adults to also laugh at themselves for how they were acting. 

Two years later, Harvey Dent would go to trial against Sal ‘Boss’ Maroni.

And the name Two-Face was born.

──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ────

After Harvey Dent turned to the criminal life, Dick only heard of Bianca on the newspaper or by Alfred when he asked Bruce about how she was doing. Most of those conversations ended with Bruce changing the subject or simply leaving the room. A few more months later, Dick had suspected Bianca had changed her last name to avoid the public and vanished from the spotlight.

Another person swept under the dark of this cursed city.

“Did she have any type of sexual relationship with Father?” Damian questioned, making Dick sputter and give the boy a wide stare.

“Jesus, Dami, you don’t just ask that!” He stressed.

That’s when Tim decided to cut in, a grimace on his face. “Don’t ask the obvious facts, Damian. We need to go deeper than that.”

Damian shrugged, “I needed Grayson to confirm it. His reaction was enough to answer my question.”

“What does that have anything to do with missing documents?” Dick pressed, growing frustrated with his brothers. They clearly knew something he didn’t, and it was getting on his already altered nerves.

The sensation of blood dripping down his forehead was hard to shrug off.

The younger boys exchanged glances for a few moments, Tim nodding at Damian, who, without a word, turned around and made his way to some folded papers on the small desk attached to the corner of the bedroom. The sight was a bit off putting to Dick since it wasn’t common for them to act so agreeable and in synch with each other. 

If they had always acted like this, maybe the patrols would have gone a lot more smoothly and with fewer arguments.

Damian then handed Dick the papers, noticing they were opened letters. The torn envelopes were right beneath the papers. He picked a random envelope out of the bunch and read the address right in the center.

(Y/N) Wayne Dent 224 Park Drive, Crest Hill, Bristol Township Gotham City, New Jersey

“...Is this a joke?” Dick fumed, paper crumpling in his fingers. A heating, raging sensation consumed his chest and spread down to the bottom of his stomach.

The more he stared down at the second last name, the more that heat turned into scalding fury. 

He didn’t like it. He didn’t like that name. He didn’t like that name being beside hers. 

He didn’t want it there. He wanted it gone. Burn it. Torn it. Scratch it off. He just wanted it gone, gone, gone, gone, goNE, GONE, GONE, GONE-

“Look at the address where it came from.” Tim’s voice did little to nothing to divert the anger spilling out of Dick’s body.

U.H. Mercy Island, Elizabeth Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane Gotham City, New Jersey

“I found them in Father’s office,” Damian explained, arms crossed with a sharp glint in his eyes. “They were hidden in his desk in a small compartment. Each one addressed to her, two for each month in the past three years.”

Two for each month, that’s a total of twenty-four letters in a year.

Twenty-four letters for three years. 

Seventy-two letters in total.

“What is this psycho doing?” Dick growled out, getting up from his spot and flipping through the letters carelessly and quickly, wrinkling the papers. “What does he want from her? Why hasn’t Bruce said anything about this?!”

“My theory?” Tim dragged on, moving his laptop towards the other two so they could stare at the screen. “He wanted nobody to know that Two-Face of all people is the legal guardian of his child.”

Displayed on the screen, a series of screenshots of Arkham’s archive, along with old pictures of newspapers' gossip columns. Tim then took out a file and opened it for their view.

A birth certificate and a legal guardianship. 

The legal guardianship was signed by two people, Bianca and Harvey Dent.

It came to Dick in pieces. A legal guardianship is a designation by the court that authorizes someone to care for an individual in place or absence of parents. Usually, a parent leaves in their will who is to have the guardianship of their child, but only if they left a will. If they don't leave a guardian in the will, the legal guardianship is made by the court.

Bianca (his sister's mother, how did he never put that together-) had signed a legal guardianship. Was it her will? Was it forged? Why wasn't Bruce signature in here? How did this even work?!

And Harvey Dent (his sister's uncle. That twisted and unstable crime lord, related to his sweet sister-) was signed as the guardian. Did he give the order himself? Did he threatened a judge? Did Bruce have it this whole time? Was Harvey trying to take his sister away from them?

The birth certificate had in a big, bold, exuberant font a name that kicked off a sick feeling in everyone that was in the room in different ways.

An empty hole beneath Dick’s feet.

A lack of air in Damian’s chest.

A heaviness in Tim’s shoulders.

The name (Y/N) Dent written on that paper had brought more questions than answers amongst the brothers. But only Dick said out loud the main question that was avoided from the beginning of this side discovery.

“Where the hell is Bruce?”

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Bobby’s face was making her anxious.

He had been silent on the ride back from the hospital, driving his truck until they reached a parking lot in front of a McDonald’s establishment.

Because after Warren had to drag her shaking body out of the hospital, he insisted on getting something to eat and settling down before they could dive into whatever this conversation was going to be.

Between milkshakes and fries, Maximoff spilled out her story from the very beginning until that very day in the fastest rant known to man. The two boys had to intervene a couple of times, stopping her when her words came out too fast and jumbled to be able to be understood.

Maybe she was too excited to finally talk to someone else about it. Let go of that dragging guilt for keeping to herself what her reality was like.

And it did feel good. It felt so good to finally say it that she somehow felt lighter. As if a heavy weight had been taken off of her chest and let her lungs get filled with fresh, new air.

Of course, that was until Bobby and Warren hadn’t said a thing in the past two minutes.

Now? She could feel her skin drenched in cold sweat underneath her track jacket.

“...So,” Bobby breathed, blinking slowly as his hands hovered. “You died.”

“And Wayne died too,” Warren added, leaning forward through the gap between the front seats, also looking kinda lost.

Maximoff nodded carefully. “Yeah, Wayne did. Me? It’s complicated, but yeah.”

Bobby clasped his hands together, nodding in response while Warren just stared. “And your soul got shoved in Wayne’s body by your twin brother.”

“Billy, yeah.” She sighed, sinking into her seat.

“And this past weeks, you have been pretending like you have amnesia, adapting to live with a family that doesn’t know their real daughter died and got switched by someone else-”

“I don’t pretend I have amnesia, I do have it because I don’t really have my memories, and they kind of come in at random times. Plus, I don’t actually know these people-”

Warren talked over her, eyebrow and the lump in his back twitching at getting interrupted. “And Wayne’s spirit is helping you out on how to get past them while you also help her find some items that her mother left around because the personification of Death had made with her a deal, and she broke it?”

Maximoff bit her cheek from the inside, half of her body already out of her seat with every inch she took to sink deeper, and avoiding their looks. 

“...Sounds ridiculous when you say it like that.”

The teens went silent for a couple of minutes once again, letting the information sink in. Because it did sound ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. But, then again, they live in a world where superheroes and aliens protect the planet from criminals to outworldly threats. Where people were born with powers and judged by them. Where someone could dress up as a bat and fight crime at night.

Why would a deal gone wrong with Death be ridiculous when their normal lives weren’t considered normal?

“You don’t believe me,” She muttered, giving them a side glance.

Bobby leaned back with a sigh, his eyes softening while he stared at her worried expression. Then, he shook his head. “If there’s a man who can create stuff with a green ring, and that the lost city of Atlantis is now part of the ONU, then I guess there's space to believe that Death is out there switching people's souls and collecting debts.”

That got an ugly laugh out of her, feeling her eyes starting to tear, but she blinked them away. “That was Billy, but I’ll take it.”

“And out of the places he could have shoved your soul into, Gotham was his best choice?” Warren chided with a groan, stretching his arms with a grimace while falling back in the backseat. 

“That’s true,” Bobby said. “Gotham is not a great place for mutants.”

The blonde teen then glared at him, eyes squinting. “And why exactly are you in Gotham? Last time I checked, Metropolis is open to mutants.”

That changed the mood to a tense one, as the cabin suddenly became colder and the windows fogged up from the inside. Maximoff sat up, sharing stares with Warren as Bobby took some deep breaths. The tips of his fingers were turning ice right in front of their eyes, but they went back to normal once again when Bobby seemed to calm down.

His trembling shoulders said otherwise.

“Bobby?” Maximoff carefully touched his shoulder. He looked at her with a wide stare, then back at a worried Warren.

“I- my parents aren’t-” He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and gathering himself up. “My parents think differently. They thought that if I were off by myself for a while, it would just go away.”

“What do you mean?” She asked. But Warren had already caught on to what was going on. So, he took hold of the subject.

“What exactly do you know about mutants?” 

The girl bit her lip before shaking her head. “I haven’t heard of it before. Been back from the dead for, like, two or three weeks. Time is weird.”

“There’s a big difference,” Bobby butted in, eyes a vibrat blue that entrampted her attention. “Between metas and mutants. Metas are made on accidents. An experiment gone wrong, or exposed to some chemicals, and things like that. Mutants are born like this.”

“It’s in our DNA,” Warren explained. Which gained a small frown from Bobby. “We are born with a special gene in our blood, called the X Gene. The gene activates at random times, but there’s a higher chance that it activates during teenage years. That’s when it’s called a mutation, and it can be from physical to mental.”

“You've been saying ‘us’ and ‘ours’ a lot, Warren,” Bobby noted. 

Warren rolled his eyes. “Congratulations, you have officially caught me. As if I haven’t been obvious enough.”

“Wait,” She interrupted, a delighted glint in her eyes. “Does that mean the three of us are mutants? Holy shit-”

“I honestly expected that your accelerated perception also included your thought process.” He ribbed. “Guess I was hoping for too much.”

“Back on the subject,” Bobby interrupted before they could start to banter like always. “Since mutations can be dangerous, it scares people. It scares normal people to the point that they hate us.”

That did not sound nice at all.

“It’s a whole dilemma,” Warren grumbled. “The media loves to antagonize, and the heroes do little to nothing to help us because ‘it’s all about politics’. Mutants have been around forever, and they still treat us like nothing but dirt beneath their feet.”

Yeah, not nice at all.

Bobby then put his hand on Maximoff’s shoulder, noticing her stress over this discovery. “It has changed in the past few years. Some places are safe for people like us. There’s an institute back in New York for gifted children. I had a visit from them a while back, but my parents turned them away.”

Warren sighed. “Which takes us to Batman’s ‘No Meta’ rule, which includes mutants. It’s supposed to be a caution because of all the messed-up villains and shit that happens here, but not many of us can afford to leave.”

“Isn’t your father rich? Why hasn’t he moved you out of here?” Bobby looked puzzled.

“Looks like all of us have shitty families, Boo.” He shrugged with tight lips.

“But why? Why are they so afraid of us?” She questioned, feeling her throat tighten. 

“For many things,” said Warren. “But the main one is that they can’t control us. Just look at Westview, that’s a good reminder of why people fear us.”

That name tingled in the back of her head. 

Westview. 

“What happened in Westview?”

Why does it mean so much?

“Some say it was a failed training experiment from the Justice League.” Bobby uttered. “A small town was encased in a red dome for weeks. But nobody from the inside has talked or given interviews about it because the government got involved quickly. Some of the League members also worked alongside them, but there was barely any news on it.”

“Of course, until people started to recall that there’s a well-known mutant that specializes in red domes. They even went as far as to call the whole thing ‘The Hex’. A bit stereotypical if you ask me.” Warren scoffed, moving his shoulders uncomfortably against the seat.

The Hex. Red Dome. Westview.

The Hex. Red Dome. Westview.

The Hex. Red Dome. Westview.

The Hex. Red Dome. Westview.

The Hex.

Red Dome.

Westview.

"Wanda, you’ve never been up against another witch before. Did you know there’s an entire chapter devoted to you in the Darkhold? That’s the book of the damned. “The Scarlet Witch is not born, she is forged. She has no coven, no need for incantation.'"

"I’m not a witch. I don’t cast spells. No one taught me magic!"

"Now, do you see? You tied your family to this twisted world, and now one can’t exist without the other."

"Save Westview or save your family."

"Mom! Help!"

“The Scarlet Witch.” She muttered. The boys looked at her in disbelief.

“...Are you supposed to know that?” Bobby hesitated.

“Guys, that’s it!” She suddenly yelled, startling the boys with her sudden outburst. Eyes wide in euphoria, as a grin widened on her lips, and her knees stabbed the seat. Helping her turn to look back at the scared blonde while gripping the head cushion.

“Wanda Maximoff!” She said, her heart pounding against her chest. “She is the Scarlet Witch, right?!”

“Hey, how do you know-” But Bobby was interrupted with a gleeful squeal.

“That’s my mom! My mom is the Scarlet Witch! I remember!” She cackled with glassy eyes. Bobby and Warren tried to set her down, but she was literally vibrating on the seat, making the truck tremble and making them scream. It attracted certain looks from the outside, the night already falling over the city, but people minded their own business and continued with their things.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

“It was hidden for a reason, Damian!”

“Don’t yell at him!” Dick yelled, getting right in Bruce’s face with a scowl, shoving a finger in his chest. “This is crucial information, and you kept it quiet! For years!”

“Why would you need to know?” Bruce questioned in a harsh tone as he walked to the other side of the living room. “It was better for everyone. For her!”

The boys and Bruce had been at each other’s throats for the past hour. Not only had they found that Bruce was holed up in his cave, but also wasting his time on the missing cases instead of focusing on the real problem at hand under his roof. Dick and Tim had dragged him out to the living room, confronting him about the missing documents in Dent’s file and the letters that had been sent by the man.

It fell short to say that Bruce was beyond livid.

“Then why not burn them?!” Tim pestered, shoving the papers on the coffee table with Damian standing behind his spot on the sofa. “It would have been easier if you didn’t want anyone to find them!”

Bruce glared at the boys, deep bags under his eyes and hair messed up, as if he had been dragging his fingers through it over and over again. Even his clothes looked disheveled.

He looked like a mess.

His gaze diverted to the silent presence by the entry of the room. Cassandra stood there, with an odd expression on her face, as she decided to enter the room and gain the attention of her siblings.

“It’s loud…” She said. Dick and Damian had the decency to look slightly ashamed, while Tim continued to glare at Bruce.

Once again, his sister had proved to be more than meets the eye. So many years, hiding this part of herself. A part that Bruce had tried to make disappear by sheer force of will. Another missing equation that added more to her enigma.

What else was she hiding? What else was she keeping under wraps? What more could he find deep inside her chest and mind?

“I’m sorry, Cassandra,” Bruce muttered, walking towards her with a hand going down his face and scratching his stubble. “Your brothers are in trouble over some documents-”

Dick butted in, tone rising. “Don’t you dare sweep this under a rug!”

“Conversation is over for now, Dick,” Bruce grunted.

But Dick refused to switch the subject. “Why is Harvey her legal guardian? I thought her mother was dead for years, and just today I found out that not only did you keep her identity a secret, but that it’s Harvey Dent’s sister?”

“What exactly did you want me to do?!” His father hissed. “Let everyone know that she was related to him? That her mother went insane and tried to carve into her skin with a burning iron? That Bianca’s memory would be tainted because of Harvey’s choices, and that our child would be tainted with the name of Dent?! I did what I had to do as her father-”

“So lock them away and throw away the key, right?”

Those sarcastic words, accompanied by a watery edge, made the five members snap their heads to the person standing in the hall.

Carrying plenty of shopping bags in each hand, posture straight, and glaring at Bruce with red rimmed eyes, stood the girl of the moment.

Cassandra had jumped a few steps back, pale in the face, and clutching the back of the sofa while Dick came forward, already wiping up a wide smile. “Hey, hun! You got home quite late!”

His words fell flat because of the intense, bitter glares the young girl was given to the suddenly solemn man. Bruce took a step towards her, feeling encouraged to take a few more when she didn’t move from her spot.

“Sweetie, I’m so sorry you had to-”

“Are you?” She whispered.

Bruce looked lost for a moment before nodding, raising his hands to reach out to her. “Of course I am. I’m so-”

“Or are you just sorry you got caught?”

He froze, hands in the air. Fingers just centimeters away from grasping her shoulders. Her dark eyes spilling with tears as a mocking sound trembled out of her lips.

“Y’know,” She sniffled, wiping the back of her wrist at her nose. “From the moment I set foot here, there have been many things that I have taken notice of. Especially after the whole accident thing. One big example is the lack of pictures.”

She tilted her head to look at the rest of them, who hovered by the sofa while standing up and staring while gaping at the scene before them. “Many portraits. Many pictures. Of everyone.”

A shaky chuckle slipped, gaze returning to Bruce’s frozen expression. “But not a single one of me.”

The way that she said ‘me’ left a sour taste in everyone’s mouth.

“Do I look too much like her? Like them? Does it haunt you so much that you can’t bear to see me in the eye? Too afraid to face your mistakes?”

“Hun, lets take a walk-” Dick tried to intervine, fingers trembling at his side. 

But she pointed her finger at him, bags rattling as her shoulders shook, as more tears spilled down her face. 

“Don’t you dare act all high and mighty, Dick. You never cared until I stopped caring.”

Her words made him click his mouth shut, taking a step back with his shoulders dropping down.

 The girl moved a step forward, tear tracks making her look younger in Bruce’s eyes. As if he were standing before that seven-year-old girl who refused to cry at the police station all those years back. Who laughed after going through the most traumatic moment in her young life.

Left without a mother. Without a home. Only him as her protector.

Because, even if the papers said that she was Harvey’s in the eyes of the law, Bruce’s blood coursed through her veins. He had known so from the moment the test had turned positive, maybe even earlier.

That little girl, who never shed a tear, stood before him with eyes filled with anger and tears.

“I hope you got what you wanted. That one day you’ll be able to admit out loud how much you fucked up, and that that day, I will not be here to hear you say it.”

Nothing moved.

Nothing breathed.

Bruce wasn’t sure when he snapped out of it. At one moment, she was there before him, and at the next, she was gone. And so was everyone else. His chest contracted deeply, a dry sob craking through his throat while his shaking hand came up to find his face wet with tears.

Deep in the manor, a girl sobbed beside her bed. Her dead companion soothed her by humming an old song and caressing her hair. 

Maximoff repeated the same words over and over in her head.

‘I will get us out. Both of us.’

‘No more tears.’

‘Not for them.’

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

“Could you repeat them? Again?”

“Do I have too?” Maximoff whined, head against the library table the three of them had been using for the past free hour. 

The weekend had passed by way too slowly for her liking. 

Apart from the outburst she had with Bruce in the hall that night, everyone seemed to let her be for the remaining day before going back to classes once more. 

No clingy and intrusive siblings. 

No overbearing father banging on her door.

Just her, Wayne and a shit ton of investigating on their vessel quest and studing for that demonic algebra exam. 

The perfect way to end such an eventful weekend.

“Wheel of fortune, find the ashes of The Moon beneath the Four of Wands, get The Sun its Hierophant, and reunite with the Reversed Tower.” She recited with a deadpan tone, lifting her head and leaning against the fancy wood with her chin, staring up at Warren, who stood by the bookshelf, searching for another book that could help them.

“That’s gotta be the weirdest tarot spread I ever heard of,” Bobby mumbled from behind his laptop, also helping out in their search.

Right, Tarot cards.

After telling Wayne about what happened at the hospital, she instantly clocked out her mother’s words as references to tarot cards. She had practically thrown her old tarot deck right in Maximoff’s hands.

Of course, that very day, she made a FaceTime call with Warren and Bobby, giving this last one a heart attack when he managed to see Wayne hovering on the back before to connection fell on their side.

A great introduction and a great discovery on the extent of Wayne’s abilities.

She had lately been more visible. Appearing on corners, standing behind walls, or hanging upside down on the ceiling with a shrill laugh that cracked the windows and rattled the doors.

Maximoff had adapted quickly to waking up with black hair tickling her face and getting spooked every time she turned around.

Back to the current situation.

Maximoff had taken any type of occult book found in the manor’s library and shoved them in her backpack. That morning, she had gone through the most awkward car ride in her short life, because Damian couldn’t stop staring at her with that weird, sad look that unsettled her to hell and back. 

Getting used to his sour expression and glares was easy, but this? She didn’t know how to handle this. He even seemed to try to say something to her before she got out of the car, but words failed him, and she was in a hurry to leave the situation as quickly as possible. She left the car without giving him the time to talk, running up to the entrance of the academy without giving the boy a chance to talk.

Then, once the three teens had gone through their first class with Mr. Logan, they had invaded the school’s library, taking advantage of their free period since their teacher was absent for the day to do their own investigation on the vision Bianca had given Maximoff.

And, as it was obvious, they were not doing very well.

“It says here,” Bobby read. “That the first card is supposed to represent the signifier of the querent, meaning, whoever is getting the reading.”

“Isn’t supposed to be past, present, and future?” Warren asked, sliding across the table another book to pick up another.

Maximoff shook her head. “That’s a different spread. Tarot cards use spreads depending on what you are going to ask. It can go from one card to almost ten cards. The more cards you use, the deeper the insights into the situation.”

“But we don’t know what spread was used, or the question that was asked.” Bobby sighed.

“Maybe we’re going about this the wrong way?” Warren shrugged, looking at his friends. “We could search what each card means first and then come up with conclusions.”

“That could work-”

“What are you three doing in here?”

Mr. Logan’s voice startled them out of their conversation, Bobby flailing around with his book until it fell on the floor, and gaining a hush from the librarian who was nearby.

The teacher raised an eyebrow, staring at them with suspicion until Maximoff got up from her seat and snatched up the book that had fallen from the ground. “Just trying to summon a demon. Y’know, teenage stuff.”

The boys tried to make her stop saying anything else, Bobby shaking his head with an awkward smile while Warren hid behind his book. But Mr. Logan simply grunted, rolling his eyes once she grinned at him. “If you are going to do that, do it outside. Seeing all three of you in silence and still is making me nervous.”

The teens grinned and laughed, sharing glances and nods while starting to pick up their books and things. 

Good, Maximoff was growing restless from staying still for so long.

“Before you leave,” Mr. Logan said to the girl, extending a plastic bag he had been holding onto. “I think this is yours, bub.”

She blinked at the bag, switching her gaze between it and Mr. Logan. He nodded at her, lightly moving it side to side, letting her know it was alright to take it. 

Maximoff grabbed the bag, brought it closer to her chest, and opened it slowly to see what it held inside. Her eyes widened, snapping her head up to look at Logan, who shrugged as he leaned to the side against one of the big wooden bookshelves.

“Maybe you’ll find these more resistant.”

Warren approached her from the back, looking over her shoulder while Bobby leaned at her side to also see the contents of the bag.

Shoes. Running shoes. The base of them was white with two green stripes on the side. The soles were made out of a material that they weren’t able to recognize, but they looked expensive.

She took them out of the bag, feeling their weight in her hands.

They were extremely light.

“I can’t accept this,” she said softly, looking at the man with disbelief. “This is too much-”

“They’re a gift, kid.” He insisted while crossing his arms. “No other shoes will last like those.”

“I could-” She hesitated, looking back at the shoes. “I can’t take them.”

“How about this?” Logan offered, the corner of his mouth deepening in amusement. “Give them a try on the field, and if they are not comfortable, I’ll take them back. Deal?”

She looked at Warren and Bobby, both of them also taken aback by Logan’s gift. Bobby shrugged with a smile, with Warren giving the man a raised eyebrow, but also shrugging at her. 

‘Why not? It’s worth the shot.’

Maximoff grinned, grabbed her bag, and took off with her friends, who were trying to catch up to her before they lost her in the halls while laughing and yelling. Logan stayed behind, smirking to himself. He took out his phone and sent a quick text to the first chat that popped up in the Messenger app.

‘Hank’s research worked. Tell him to make more of those.’

A message popped up quickly in response. As expected of him.

‘Hope they don’t go destroying shoes like I did at that age. I’ll have to get Hank to make me a pair of those, too ⚡️’

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Essex Corporation: 10:00 PM

A big screen, divided into smaller ones, streamed a series of footage from security cameras. All of them from different angles and rooms, focusing on the figures that moved around.

They all wore a thick yellow collar with a blinking red light in the front middle of it. Along with gray scrubs, whose fabrics varied in different states.

Burned, dirty, wrinkled, scratched, torn. 

And of course, all of them were kids.

Missing kids.

“What are the statistics?” A growly and raspy voice imposed. 

Before the screens, two men stood. One of them was wearing a lab coat and held two files, his identification card blurred by the light as it hung from the small pocket of his coat. The other man was dressed way differently.

His sickly white skin looked like it belonged to a corpse, clashing with his black leather suit. An odd back piece that looked like it was floating behind him, it resembled a cape that was split into thick stripes, and it fell down to the ground. Black hair slicked back, exposing bright red eyes and razor-sharp teeth.

“The earthquake mutant is still at the top of the list,” the assistant said, pointing at the top left screen, where a teen boy with long brown hair trashed his room. Slamming against the walls and screaming. “He still manages to use his mutation lightly even while wearing the retention collars.”

“And the new targets?”

The assistant handed him the files, opening them for his boss to see.

One had pictures of a boy. The other one had pictures of a girl. They were all taken from different positions, but still in the same place. 

The same mall.

The man in black took one of the pictures and examined it up close. The lens was focused on the girl, blurred by what he could blame on her moving too fast for the camera to capture. The boy, with his back to the camera, kneeling on the ground and reaching to her.

“Names?” He drawled.

“The boy is Robert Drake. We suspect he has a mutation related to ice. He doesn’t have any registration at the clinics.”

“And the girl?”

“(Y/N) Wayne. Probably speed-related. Also, no registration.”

The sinister man suddenly grinned, the sharp nail of his thumb tracing the blur of the picture. 

“You know?” He confided to the other man. “I have always wanted to have a speedster in my collection. Their bodies are fascinating.”

“Bring her first.”

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Author's Note: Here's the new chapter!! Sorry for taking so long to publish, last week was insane. Fell down the stairs, got stressed by auditions and studying for a physics exam. Any way, insane week. Let me know what y'all think of this chapter!! Can't wait to see what everyone comes up with 👀✨ Lots of hugs and love, GG✨

Tag List:

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Bonus Memes:

[clockwayswrites]

The Haunting of Danny Fenton Chapter 7, Part 2

masterpost I am not a doctor lol

“And look up,” the doctor instructed before pulling away the pen light.

Danny blinked back the after images that it left. The eye exam certainly didn’t help, but the overwhelming feeling of seeing was better. Everything was still on the blurry side—too soft, too bright, too white—but it didn’t make Danny want to hide from the world anymore.

“Well, the good news is, your eyes are dilating and have no issue with movement. They’re just far too dilated. We’ll need to get you to an ophthalmologist to be sure, but I suspect that your vision will return to normal as the side effects of the event fade.”

“‘kay,” Danny rasped. He took a grateful sip from the cup Wally passed him before he tried to continue, “Same on the hearing, or…?”

Danny didn’t much like the way the doctor frowned.

“It could be,” the doctor said. It was clear the effort she was putting in to speak loudly and articulately enough, “but hearing doesn’t bounce back the way eyes can. I think it would be good to at least be braced for bad news. The good news, even if it’s bad news, is that you seem to still have some hearing in both ears, so you should be a good candidate for hearing aids.”

Danny rubbed at his face with a shaky hand. “Right. Thank you. What do we think about the hand tremors?”

“Another wait and see. But we’ll start you on some physical and occupational therapy. You and the Flash can be be PT buddies,” the doctor said with a little smile. She really was doing her best. “I also want everyone to watch for signs of seizures, especially more minor ones. Like a lot of the cases here, you’re a one off, but that doesn’t mean that we won’t do everything that we can to take care of you.”

“Thanks, really,” Danny said. “I think I’m just here for right now, so whatever works for those appointments? You can let Nightwing know when they are if I’ve crashed again or not remembering or something.”

“The memory issues should go away as you stay awake and get oriented, but I’ll make sure that Nightwing knows of all appointments also. I know it’s easy to lose track of time when you’re healing.” The doctor stood and rolled her gloves off. “Make sure to eat and hydrate while you’re awake, but rest when you need and keep the oxygen in when you’re resting. Flash—stay put and keep that IV in.”

“Yes ma’am!” Wally chirped as Dick showed her out.

Wally hooked his chin over Danny’s shoulder and pulled him back against his chest. Danny let himself slump back into the hold with a sigh. He found the straw to sip at just so that he didn’t have to say anything right away.

“Alright!” Dick said with a clap of his hands. “Food! As long as Wally drinks his smoothies and stays on that IV, we’re not on a restrictive diet, so Danny, what are you thinking?”

“Trash,” Danny decided. “Nuggets and fries and like a shake or something. Just salty trash.”

“Deal! Shake flavor and dipping sauce?”

“Strawberry I guess and like, honey mustard? Honey something. Surprise me.”

“Can do,” Dick said complete with a little salute. “I’m going to to let the others know you’re awake awake and get their food order too, okay? But I’ll keep the horde away for now.”

“Thanks,” Danny said with a grateful smile. He liked the all the Titans, but he really just couldn’t right then, not with his senses all off. Two was just enough. After Dick left, Danny leaned a little more firmly against Wally. “Nice to be able to finally touch you.”

Wally said something then cleared his throat and said more clearly, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Even though… just… some of those things might be permanent,” Wally said, voice almost dipping too long a few times.

“Yeah,” Danny sighed. “I really hope the vision isn’t. I’d like the tremors not to be too, you know? And the seizures would suck if they’re as bad, but I bet there’d be medication for that at least.”

When Wally sighed, it was with his whole body. “You’re so calm about it. I—Danny, you got hurt bringing me back, maybe for good. That… doesn’t that make you mad?”

Danny played with Wally’s fingers as he thought about how to answer that. “You’ve had to have been hurt as Flash.”

“I heal fast,” Wally pouted.

“Okay, lucky guy,” Danny said with a little snort. “But you have or Dick has. You know it’s part of being a hero.”

“You’re a civi right now. You’re a civi and I’m not. I know that even heroes can need rescuing, but you shouldn’t have been hurt because I fucked up!”

Ah, that was it.

Danny brought up Wally’s fingers and kissed them lightly. “Everyone fucks up. And part of me will always be that stupid teen who was a hero. I’ll deal with what this got me just like I deal with the aches and pains I already have. I don’t blame you.”

“You should.”

“I don’t,” Danny insisted. “And you have to respect me enough to know that I went into this willingly and with open eyes. If you can’t do that, then our date when we’re free from here needs to be a friendly dinner instead. I’m not going to be with someone who doesn’t respect my right to decide.”

Wally left out a huff of air like he was deflating. “Sorry. I didn’t mean too… just… hero guilt.”

“I get it, really I do,” Danny said. “But shove it aside, okay? Because both of us are here and alive and I think that’s a damn good outcome when dealing with unknowable forces of the space time continuum.”

“Nerd,” Wally teased.

“Oh like you aren’t.”

“No, I totally am,” Wally said, “but now I have someone to curl up and watch Star Trek with. I love Dick, but he’s an absolute pop culture heathen. He swings between cartoons and reality tv.”

Danny held back a laugh and nodded wisely instead. “Well, we’ll put on ‘The Voyage Home’, and he can fall asleep to the dulcet whale songs.”

“Perfect, as soon as you can hear better,” Wally promised with a soft kiss to Danny’s temple.

[yeonmuse]

˗ˏˋSUMMARY ´ˎ˗ Park Sunghoon doesn’t usually like getting close to new people, but when a little girl shows up to his place of work in need of skating lessons he finds himself getting oddly close to her older sister. Now he’s starting to realize himself developing some uncontainable feelings while having to teach not only her little sister to skate, but her as well.

ᥫ᭡ f!reader x Park Sunghoon ── 𝒢enre. Uni au. fluff, non idol enha. feats. ot7 [reqs are closed] ᝰ.ᐟ 𝓁ibrary ⛸️

ૢ CASTING ༉ ot7 Enhypen. THE GANG ot9 andteam, lesserafim chaewon, katseye manon. READERS FRIENDS boynextdoor woonhak, boynextdoor leehan, blackswan fatou, loona jinsoul, theboyz chanhee, txt yeonjun, pamalaaam as mari. HONORABLE MENTIONS theboyz sunwoo, soloist alexa.

⍣ ೋ AUTHORS NOTES . This is part of admins Enhypen University Special Event. This series also has slight connections to every series in said event so occasionally characters from the other members chapters may appear in this series as well.

TAGLIST IS CLOSED❕ 🏷️ | SERIES PREVIEW

ღ GENRE smau & written parts, fluff|slight angst, acquaintance to lovers, non idol enhypen, university enha, crack tweets & texts. 3rd person reader pov

CHARACTER PROFILES › ENHA & FRIENDS | READER & FRIENDS | HONORABLE MENTIONS

1 › prince of the ice

2 › let’s go bears

3 › UOA vs DVU

4 › take this L

5 › aint no party like a yeonjun party

6 › fuck you sim jaeyun and nishimura riki

7 › park sunghoon

8 › jinsouls shayla

9 › I’m sorry

10 › you did what ??

11 › case of the stolen teammates

12 › three thousand dollars

13 › @/princeoftheice followed you !

14 › failed ransom

15 › the zamwhati?

16 › according to google 🤓☝️

17 › am i literally stupid ?

18 › should I flea the country ?

19 › im cooked

20 › soft hands

21 › swimmin with the fishes

22 › snowed in

23 › Fuck you mother nature

24 › sweatpea?

25 › skate night

26 › yn and sunghoon sitting in a tree

27 › place your bets

28 › im so screwed

29 › this isnt a kdrama

30 › happy soobin day

31 › nurse shes out again

32 › mr lonely and the girl with infinite homework

33 › you like krabby patties don’t you squidward

34 › wonder about you

35 › ice cream you scream we’re all screaming

36 › jealously jealousy

37 › the club is calling

38 › liquid courage

39 › dont fuck this up

40 › sweater weather

41 › bitchless activities

42 › ending: Merry Christmas

[httpsserene]

who told him to get jacked — 𝐨𝐩. 𝟖𝟏 oscar piastri x fem!black!reader smau. this is a shitpost, you have been warned. reader is weak for oscar's muscle growth. inspo 1 & 2.

synopsis: oscar’s girlfriend is feral on main.

༊࿐ ⊹ ˚. i opened tumblr and saw the photos of oscar when he went karting and um…now have another mess of a smau! inspired by the nefarious actions i would do to oscar’s biceps. inspired by @dwarvenchords and @hookhausenschips. it’s short but, enjoy, loves xxx.

⌕ join taglist | requests & feedback | upcoming chapters | table of contents ↻

yninstagram • february 28th

view replies

oscarpiastri: love…you couldn’t even save this for the close friends stories? you had to post it on main yninstagram: did you like my joke? oscar “jack”ed piastri LOL im so clever oscarpiastri: ijbol 😐 yninstagram: i’d be pressed but ur muscles are distracting me oscarpiastri: u should cmere and give them a kiss :)

lilymhe: he let u tie a bow around his bicep?!!! omfg i have to do this with alex yninstagram: i don’t think alex has enough muscles to meet the requirement for the bow :/

landonorris: he’s such a simp landonorris: i would never let my girlfriend tie a bow on me 🥱 yninstagram: step 1: have a girlfriend

logansargeant: your freak out on twitter had a slight mentally-ill aura yninstagram: shut the fuck up and get on a podium before you talk to me yninstagram: gangly bitch + not funny didn’t laugh + L

yninstagram • february 28th • in between my boyfriends tiddies ⚑

liked by, oscarpiastri, mclaren, logansargeant, markwebber, and 1,223,458 others

yninstagram: things to do with your boyfriends muscles; listed in the comments below (a huge thanks to the toto user on twt for FINALLY sending me the photo)

tagged oscarpiastri

view comments

yninstagram 1. tie a bow around them (completed)

➥ user thx for sharing the photo

➥ user FUCK! I CAN’T FIND A PIECE OF PAPER TO WRITE THIS ON

yninstagram 2. kiss them (completed)

➥ user awh how cute! going to nap on the interstate rq

➥ user wait for me!

➥ user omg slumberpartyyyyy

yninstagram 3. touch them (completed)

➥ markwebber there’s a time i thought you were a normal girl

➥ yninstagram who told you to think that??

user i know those arms are rock solid 🥴🤤

user i’m the toto user on twitter !!! she did not kill me y’all !!!

➥ user u were flirting with death babes

➥ user i would not have admitted to this under her post

➥ user you should seek witness protection 🙏🏾

yninstagram 4. have him suffocate you with them (he said no)

➥ oscarpiastri WHY DID YOU INCLUDE THIS ONE

➥ logansargeant i think you’re proving the mentally-ill part y/n

➥ yninstagram u sound jealous logan

➥ user personally, i think if you didn’t want her to say that, you shouldn’t have muscles @/oscarpiastri

➥ oscarpiastri oh! yeah! why didn’t i think of that—lemme just take them off rq 😐 WTH

yninstagram 5. wall sex (?)

➥ oscarpiastri i specifically said not to say #4 and #5 in public

➥ user the question mark is SENDING MEEEEE

➥ yninstagram i mean, i can tell you that he didn’t say no to this one 😈 @/user

➥ landonorris i did not want to see this when i opened ig

➥ yninstagram do us all a favor then and delete ur account x

➥ oscarpiastri what she said^

➥ landonorris :o -> :(

yninstagram 6. draw on them (in progress)

➥ user wait this one is actually cute 🤭

➥ oscarpiastri watching the pure concentration on her face is adorable

➥ user omg she’s so 👉🏼👈🏼 coded

➥ oscarpiastri it tickles lol

➥ yninstagram ur moving around too much

➥ yninstagram might have to tie you to the headboard 😏

➥ user and she’s back on her bs

yninstagram 7. watch him flex for you (ongoing indefinitely)

➥ mclaren do we have your permission to post oscar thirst traps now?

➥ yninstagram i’m sure we could work out something mutually beneficial

oscarpiastri • february 28th • my girl’s basement ⚑

liked by yninstagram, danielricciardo, logansargeant, landonorris, and 1,478,539 others

oscarpiastri she knocked out on my chest halfway through drawing on me. didn’t know this was part of the boyfriend job description, felt like there was some false adverting. overall: 12/10 experience, will be doing this again.

view comments

danielricciardo didn’t know where this was going for a sec but fuck you guys are so cute 🥹

➥ oscarpiastri thank you? i guess

➥ user oh to have my relationship praised by danny ric

➥ user girl ur man responds to your texts two days late

➥ user DAMN u didn’t have to air out my business like thatttt

user WHAT DID SHE USE TO DRAW ON YOU OSCAR??? HELP A GIRL OUT

➥ oscarpiastri its liquid eyeliner 🫡

➥ oscarpiastri she used an eyeshadow palette when she wanted to add colors

➥ user why did i never think of that, she’s so smarttttt

user oscar piastri the MAN that u AREEEE

logansargeant so,,,,are we still getting dinner later orrrrr

➥ user LOL

➥ user omg y/n was right logan IS jealous

➥ logansargeant im not jealous !!!!

➥ user 💀

➥ user okayyyy….we believe you LMAOOOOO

➥ oscarpiastri ijbol 😂

➥ logansargeant stop using ijbol it’s not funny

➥ user this will be the only time that i say i agree with logan on something

➥ logansargeant ur literally a fan account FOR ME?? @/user

➥ user yeah man u didn’t have to bring that up 😒

© httpsserene - do not reupload. photos in header image are from pinterest. divider by @cafekitsune.

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

a beautiful little lie. [chapter 7] l Harry Castillo

Summary:  you are the personal assistant of Harry Castillo, a wealthy entrepreneur who asks you to go with him to his friend's wedding. there you meet your ex-boyfriend and things get out of hand

Warnings: smut (+18), oral (f!receivig), protected sex (congrats!), fluff, friends to lovers (maybe?), kissing, flirting, wine, flowers

A/N: you've been waiting for me and I really wanted to give you this chapter. today i had my last class before the break. my first year of college is behind me! yeeey! i'm really happy and proud of myself. this week, between studying, working, and creating projects - i wrote this thing for you. i hope you like it. your comments and messages are honey to my heart. thank you for being with me.

your feedback is very important to me and I want to thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. I secretly hope you like this story.🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

[my masterlist] [Harry Castillo masterlist] [a beautiful little lie- series masterlist]

New York greeted you with rain, but the sun was still shining in your heart and head. The whirlwind of work you fell into right after your return made your head spin. However, that's how a few days ended with your phone turned off and no one answering your emails.

Right after you got back, Susan quickly told you how Mrs. Kruger-Waltz had almost forced her to tell you the name of the hotel you and Castillo hadn't stayed at.

"I'm sorry." she said. "She was... She was just awful."

"Maybe she just knows what she wants. She knows her position." you replied, scrolling through your email inbox. "You know, if she was a guy, no one would care so much."

"Are you defending her?" Susan looked at you in surprise.

You shrugged. "I don't know, I just noticed it."

You had some time to think about what happened in the hotel restaurant and what Harry did next. Diane was hard and mean to you, but then again she wouldn't have achieved the same status by being sweet and loving, would she? She moved in a man's world and accepted their rules, played their game.

"Harry would never do that." Susan commented as she sat down at her desk and went back to work.

"Harry's some kind of unicorn or gem." you chuckled and Susan smiled back. "We're lucky, my dear."

"I'll buy him a mug for Boss' Day."

"Good decision."

Castillo hadn’t been in the office all morning and hadn’t returned until after lunch, and even then one of the accountants had entered the office right behind him with a stack of papers under his arm.

The soft hum of a computer and Susan’s typing filled the room. It took you almost an hour and a half to go through your email. You were in the middle of checking Harry’s presence at some meeting when you heard the sound of an incoming message. You reached for your phone and read it.

[Harry Castillo]: sent a picture.

You frowned and clicked on the message. A picture appeared on the screen, the one Harry must have taken of you when you weren’t looking. The wind blew through your hair, and you shielded your eyes with your hand, pointing at something. You felt a pleasant tickle around your heart and were about to reply when another picture appeared. One of those “hand-held” ones. Harry was wearing black sunglasses and was smiling, and you followed him, sipping your iced coffee.

[You]: Really? When did you take it?

[Harry Castillo]: I like it. You can't blame me. I have more.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't help but smile. This guy was impossible.

[You]: You have a meeting with your accountant. You should focus on work.

Three dots appeared, bouncing off each other. Finally, his answer showed up.

[Harry Castillo]: Boring. You're much more interesting. What are you doing this Friday?

“Is everything okay?” Susan leaned over her computer.

“Umm... Yeah. I just...” You looked up from your phone and waved her off to let her know it was nonsense. “I got a text.”

“Did that text make you laugh?” she asked, resting her chin on her hand. “Please tell me his name, how tall he is, where he lives, and how much he makes. Handsome?”

“You’re scaring me,” you replied quickly. You typed, “I have to check my schedule. I’m really busy. I have a lot of work to catch up on,” and sent it off. “It’s nothing.”

“Yeah, sure.” She winked at you.

Harry must have been really bored — his reply came just seconds later.

[Harry Castillo]: I’ll wait patiently.

[Harry Castillo]: Wait! I’m your boss. So I want to tell you that as much as I appreciate your work, I'd like to spend a nice Friday night with you even more. Dinner and wine?

Damn! You were so unprofessional! Your cheeks burned with fire as you typed the next words.

[You]: Will there be kissing?

The dots appeared, disappeared, and reappeared. You imagined Harry trying to text while talking to his accountant. Finally, his message lit up your screen.

[Harry Castillo]: A lot.

Excitement and fear filled you as you prepared for your date with Harry. It shouldn’t be like this. You’ve known each other for over a year, you’ve spent hours talking, you’ve watched him date other women, and you thought he was the coolest, most charming man in the state. But uncertainty was building under your skin as you put on your dress and applied your lipstick.

What if this evening wasn’t what you both expected? Maybe you’d just given in to the hot LA sun, and here all the excitement would die down and it would just be awkward? You’d seen the women Harry had dated, and you weren’t sure if you fit the mold.

But there was something about Harry that made you want to give in. You wanted to take the first bite, jump in, and never look back. The risk was enormous, but you couldn’t help yourself.

When you stepped out onto the sidewalk, he was already leaning against the car door. The sleeves of his black sweater were pulled up slightly, and when his gaze landed on you, it lingered there for a moment. As if he wanted to remember the sight for a long time.

“Hi,” he greeted you as you approached him. “You look amazing.”

“Thank you. You’re not bad either.” He smiled gently.

“I reserved a table for us. You weren’t there yet.” Harry said, stepping away from the door and opening it wide. Before you could get there, however, he reached into the backseat, and a bouquet of spring pink peonies appeared before your eyes.

“For you. Since it’s a date, it has to be flowers.”

You must have had a surprised look on your face because Harry just smiled. You took the bouquet from him, still unable to believe he was taking all this so seriously.

“Thank you. They’re beautiful.” You managed to choke out.

“Not like you.”

Your cheeks must have already turned the shade of flowers, but Harry didn’t say anything to that. You slid into the backseat of the car, the door slamming shut quietly. A moment later, Harry was sitting next to you, and the car was gliding through the streets of the city, which was melting into the setting sun. Despite all the stress, it turned out that the tension you expected did not appear. Quite the opposite. You talked freely - about the coming week, about the film you wanted to see at the cinema but did not have time to go, and many other things.

If it weren't for the driver's voice announcing that you were already there, you wouldn't have even noticed the car had stopped. Harry got out in a flash and as soon as you grabbed your bag, he opened the door for you, holding out his hand to help you.

"What's this place?" you asked as he led you into the glass building and through the elegant lobby.

"You'll see for yourself," he replied, clearly enjoying himself. "My friend recommended it. I think you'll like it."

"Have you been here before?" your gaze wandered to the crystal chandelier above you, but you made your way to the elevators.

"No, I was waiting for a special occasion."

You were that occasion. He didn't want to say it, afraid of embarrassing you, but as soon as he found out about this place, he wanted to take you there immediately.

Harry loved watching him take you to such beautiful and exclusive places as this. Simple awe, your eyes widening as if you wanted to see even more, and he could give it all to you. In return, he never asked for much, your presence was enough.

The elevator quietly and quickly took you to one of the top floors, and when the doors opened, you found yourself in the vestibule of an elegant restaurant. Dim lights, soft music, and pleasant smells filled the air. Harry had to take your hand and pull you towards the young man standing in the doorway, because your eyes wandered over the decor.

“We have a reservation. Castillo.” he said.

“Of course.” The man glanced at the tablet, then smiled. “This way, Mr. Castillo. Ma’am.”

The soft carpet muffled your footsteps as you walked along the tables. The guests hidden in their booths paid no attention to you at all. Harry’s fingers were still intertwined with yours as you walked out onto the glassed-in terrace. One of the tables was set up at the back, a little further away from the others, and that’s where the man led you.

“Please sit down,” he said, smiling and gesturing to the chairs. “A waiter will be here in a moment to take your order. Would you like some wine?”

“Yes, please. I hear you have some great chocolate soufflés.” Harry replied, pulling out a chair for you.

The man's face lit up. "Yes, sir. They'll be perfect for dessert."

He nodded and left you alone. Harry sat down across from you. The soft light of the lamps reflected in his dark eyes, and a smile never left his lips.

"Congratulations." You said, resting your chin on your hand and looking out the large window at the city covered in the last rays of sunlight, night already lurking around the corner. "This place is really... wow."

"I'm glad you like it. I wanted it to be something special."

You looked at him in silence for a moment, as if you were thinking about something. Only after a moment did you speak. "You could take me to a hot dog stand and I'd love it too, Harry. You know that, right?"

He knew. God! He nodded, because he knew it. He once took you to a really expensive restaurant, and on the way back you told him to stop because you wanted fries. “How was I supposed to eat these micro-portions? You could take me here and I’d be so much happier.” It was adorable.

You never looked at him through the prism of money, and it was refreshing. Harry could be sitting next to you in sweatpants, eating takeout, and you treated him the same way you did when he was wearing a suit worth several of your salaries.

The waiter showed up a moment later to take your order, you and Harry went over each item on the menu in detail, sharing your thoughts, and then he brought you wine.

“I wonder,” you began, sipping the sweet wine. Harry raised an eyebrow in curiosity, “how is this different? We’ve been to places like this before. Maybe not in this kind of atmosphere, but still.”

He thought for a moment before answering. “I think,” he began slowly and carefully choosing his words, “that today I can look at you without shame. And you look stunning.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head in disbelief. “Really?”

“I brought you flowers too.”

“They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

“And we’ll kiss.”

You looked at Harry like he was crazy, but his spontaneity and sincerity were simply endearing. “I do it very well, don't I?”

You sighed and took another sip of wine. “Very much. I don’t understand… If you’re doing it so well, why am I here? So many women…”

“Stop it.” Harry said quietly, his voice low and firm, cutting you off mid-sentence. “Don’t finish that sentence.”

You blinked, not knowing what to say, so you decided to stay silent. Harry leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. The atmosphere between you changed – not tense, but something different, more intimate.

“You’re here because I want you to be here. Not someone else. Not any other woman. You. It’s not about how many people I could be with—it’s about how few people make me feel this way.”

You opened your mouth, but you couldn’t get a word out. It was hard to say anything when your heart was pounding in your chest and Harry was looking at you so intensely. He reached out and took your hand before you even noticed. He stroked it with his thumb.

“I know you have a lot of doubts and worries, but I’m not doing all of this because it’s a ‘date.’ I really want this. Every bit of it.”

You let out a breath you had been unconsciously holding in your lungs. “You’re so serious.”

He nodded. “Dangerously.”

“Then I guess I should think about it seriously, too.”

Harry smiled. He lifted your hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it. Light flickered in his dark eyes so intently focused on you. Something had changed between you. It wasn't about flirting anymore, but about certainty and safety.

The waiter's arrival pulled you out of the bubble that had closed around you for a moment. It was nice. You sat there, eating really good food, drinking wine and looking at the city that was slowly getting brighter with the glow of the lamps. You didn't feel any worries or fear anymore, because what had appeared between you and Harry was like a warm balm that enveloped both of you. Everything seemed fine and normal, and he did everything to make you feel at ease.

“Oh my!” you sighed as you entered the elevator, the doors closing quietly behind you. Harry looked at you intrigued. “I left the flowers in the car. They’ll definitely die there.”

“Oh no!” he frowned as you told him the truly devastating news. “We can’t let that happen. I have a vase at home if you’re interested.”

The words came out of his mouth so naturally that no matter what you answered, it would be the right answer. No pressure, a simple hint that you understood immediately, and the decision was yours. He waited, you could see it in his eyes.

“Crystal?”

“Of course.” He nodded.

“Hmm... I don’t know if I have a vase.”

He narrowed his eyes, his lips lifting into a gentle smile. “You’re going to risk their lives?”

You bit your lower lip, trying to hold back the smile that crept onto your lips, but you failed miserably. After a moment, you both burst out laughing.

"I shouldn't," you finally said. "They're such beautiful flowers. Besides..." Harry raised an eyebrow. "Besides, we haven't kissed yet."

That was the sign Harry had been waiting for. In an instant, his warm hand rested carefully on your cheek, and the scent of his cologne filled your nostrils. He quickly managed to look into your eyes, and you already felt his soft lips on yours.

Jesus! How much you missed his lips. He kissed you gently, carefully, as if testing the water, but when you touched his neck, wanting to get closer, he completely lost himself. Two steps, you felt the cold wall of the elevator behind you and Harry's solid, warm body in front of you.

A soft tongue broke through the barrier of your lips, causing you to moan quietly. The bastard smiled.

“Do that again and I’ll lose myself in you.” He whispered, but didn’t give you time to respond, stealing your breath again. Colossal hands held your waist tightly, your fingers slipping into his soft hair. It was just you and Harry, nothing more.

You didn't remember how you got to his apartment. Your brain had shut down all rational reasoning the moment you got into the car, when Harry took your hand, when he kissed the back of it tenderly, and when you drove through the city with impatient smiles on your faces.

There was no doubt - you knew what you were getting at, but you also felt no pressure or hesitation. If such a thing existed, Harry would have accepted it without resentment and, like a true gentleman, would have driven you to your apartment without complaint. Desire and excitement hung in the air that almost quivered between you.

You hadn't drunk enough wine to be drunk, unless you could be drunk on his presence and how he treated you - with respect, care, tenderness.

His lips were on you again when you entered the apartment, as if he had missed the taste of them in the few minutes of travel.

"F-flowers, Harry..." you managed to whisper.

He looked at you, confused. He completely forgot you were holding them in your hand. That fucking vase was in some cabinet, now he had no idea which one.

However, you solved that problem in a flash, throwing them on the wooden table by the wall, your hands once again grabbing his face, pulling him into a kiss. He wanted you. Jesus! He wanted you like he hadn't wanted anyone else in a long time. The wall behind you appeared suddenly, but thank god for that, because otherwise you would have slumped to the floor.

"Are you sure you want this, baby?" he asked, pulling his face away from yours for a moment, Harry's eyes dark as night. "One word and..."

"I want it." You whispered and saw the relief on his face. "I want you, Harry."

He wanted to hear it. Kisses landed on your neck as he pulled you away from the wall and slowly led you towards the bedroom. The switch by the door turned on the small lights by the nightstands. The bedroom was large, with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the city at night and a bed covered in white satin sheets. You paused for a moment.

Harry's hands slid up your arms, sending warm shivers down your spine as he pressed his forehead against yours. "I can't believe you're here with me. Are you actually real?"

You placed your hands on his chest. The strong beating of his heart was palpable beneath your fingertips. "Yes, I am."

His hands moved to your back, slowly and meticulously to the zipper under your neck. Harry tilted his head. "May I?"

You nodded, not trusting your lips. You held your breath as you felt the zipper slide open, slowly sliding the dress off your shoulders, letting it fall gently to the wooden floor.

"You're stunning," he said, and you knew he was serious.

It was all in his eyes, which, with admiration, as if you were the eighth wonder of the world, moved from your face, through your cleavage, the curve of your breasts and lower, lower... He took a deep breath. "Forgive my lack of eloquence, but I have no idea what to say now."

"Then maybe don't say anything, Harry." You suggested. Your hands grabbed the hem of his sweater and slowly pulled it up. He had a beautiful body and you really missed seeing him like this. Small freckles on his chest, broad shoulders and strong arms, soft stomach. You realized that it had been a long time since you had stood in front of someone so exposed and vulnerable, but with Harry you felt no shame or embarrassment.

He kissed you again, hungrily and lovingly, pulling your hips to his so that you felt the distinct bulge in his jeans. There was no point in waiting. The belt was unbuckled, you tugged on your jeans to slide them off.

“On the bed, darling,” he mumbled in a low, deep voice. You sat down obediently on your heels, watching Harry take off his jeans, leaving them carelessly next to your dress, and a few seconds later he was by your side. Gently, without breaking the kisses, he pushed you onto the satin sheets. Sweet weight on you, hands exploring your body as if he wanted to memorize the map of your body. His lips slid down to your neck, collarbone and cleavage. The scent of your skin mixed with the scent of your perfume and went to his head.

“I want to taste you, baby. Will you let me?”

He felt you shiver under his fingers, tensing nervously. Dark eyes lifted to you, watching you carefully.

“Is something wrong?” Harry asked.

“No, it’s just… It’s been a while since I last did this.”

He smiled softly. “Baby, I’ll take care of you, I swear. If you tell me to stop, I will.” You bit your lip lightly. “I want you to feel good, baby.”

You nodded. You couldn’t help but give in to those eyes and smile. Fingers slid under the waistband of your panties and slowly, carefully, slid down.

The first kiss on your stomach, another below your belly button, then on your mound, and then you sighed softly as you felt Harry’s hot lips on the inside of your thighs.

“You’re already throbbing, baby…”

You buried your face in your hands, feeling the warmth creep up your neck. Harry brazenly lay between your legs, throwing one over his shoulder and teasing your sensitive center with his warm breath. The first lick, a gentle kiss, and after a moment he sank into your pussy as if it would save his life. Tongue and lips worked hard and you couldn't cover your face anymore, trying to grab anything that would give you stability. A loud gasp escaped your throat as he sucked on your clit.

You were so turned on, your body so hungry for what was building inside you, that you couldn't control anything. Harry placed a hand on your stomach, trying to hold you down as you tried to lift your hips, maybe even escape from what you were feeling.

“Stay like this, baby. I’ve got you.”

And he really did have you. When he looked up, saw you like that, he knew he’d never forget you. Eyes closed, lips parted, gasping for air, chest heaving in sharp breaths. You were on the edge, and with one thrust he pushed you towards that abyss, to watch you fall apart under his lips and tongue. He already knew that this sight would stay with him forever.

You weren’t fully conscious. The orgasm that had shaken your body was still pulsing under your skin as Harry kissed your thighs and with a scoundrel’s smile he hovered over you again.

“You’re so sexy…” he said, “I could spend hours there.”

“You can’t.” you panted, shaking your head, “I want you inside me, now.”

You lifted yourself up, kissing him hard and pulling him with you onto the bed. He was so hard in his boxers that when you slid your hand in there, wrapping your fingers around his cock, he sighed through clenched teeth.

“Condoms.” he groaned. “I have…”

“Where?”

He nodded towards the nightstand, and you arched your back and reached over, pulling out a foil packet. You opened it deftly as Harry pulled down his boxers, freeing his hard and already leaking cock.

The condom was slid on in a quick motion, and soon the tip was brushing against your entrance. Your gaze moved from the space between your thighs to your faces almost simultaneously. No words were needed.

Harry slowly pushed himself into you, stretching you pleasantly, all the way to the base. You needed a few seconds for both of you.

“Jesus…” he groaned, burying his face in your neck. “You’re squeezing me so hard. I can’t get over this, I don’t want to.”

Gentle hands stroked his shoulders, slipped into his soft hair. You were so warm, he could feel your heartbeat, he could feel all of you. This moment should stop, he wanted to feel this forever.

“Move, baby, please.”

Your sweet voice was like an order he wanted to fulfill. The first movement of his hips and you both sighed quietly. Harry lifted himself up on his elbows to see your face, to kiss you again, his cock moving hard and confidently inside you. You quickly found a rhythm together, trying to remember to breathe, but it was hard when you wanted to taste each other’s lips at the same time so much.

“It feels so good, Harry…” you moaned quietly, “Just like this.”

He grabbed your thigh with one hand, squeezing his fingers tighter. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from your face, his hips slamming harder and he felt your walls tighten around his cock. You were close, faster than he expected, but Harry knew perfectly well that he wouldn’t last long either. You opened your eyes unexpectedly.

“I want to be on top.”

You surprised him, but he agreed without hesitation. He pulled out of you and rolled onto his back, and a moment later you were on top of him, positioning his cock so that it would slide inside. God! His eyes almost rolled back as he pushed himself deeper into you than before. You rested your hands on his chest and started moving, setting a fast rhythm.

When Harry opened his eyes again, he saw you tilt your head slightly, closing your eyes and letting out quiet moans that you were no longer suppressing. His hands on your hips set the rhythm, strong and determined

“Harry…” you moaned “I’m so… So close.”

“I can feel it, baby. Let go, I've got you. I've got you…”

He lifted himself up, wrapping his arm around your body and using his other hand to press you harder, as if he wanted to go even deeper. His lips sucked on the spot on your collarbone. He wanted to mark you, you were his, more than ever.

A shiver ran through your body, your nails digging into Harry's shoulders, but he didn't let go. He pressed you harder against his body, helping you through it. The fire must have burned your thighs, but you didn't stop. A few more strokes and Harry came with a groan, clenching his hands so hard he had to leave marks.

Your hot bodies were sticky with sweat, but you were still as close as lovers could be. It was only after a few long moments that Harry lifted his head, his eyes full of delight and pleasure. His hand cupped your cheek, as if he was afraid you were real.

Words weren't needed, you felt the same. The kiss was soft and sweet, mixed with smiles, quiet giggles, careful movements of his hands. You felt like nothing would ever be the same again.

And it felt good.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

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