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mockerycrow · 1 year

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UNDER THE SURFACE (Ghost x GN!Reader)

ghost masterlist — ghost icon by @yumethefrostypanda concept post here!

authors note; this is not my best work tbh, i wish i could improve it somehow, but i’m hoping you guys will like it anyway. Pretty sure this is my longest singular post, too! 4.7k words :-)

[WARNINGS: angst, spiraling thoughts, near panic attack, hurt/comfort, inaccurate medical stuff, vague descriptions of physical violence, very brief mention of possible self harm.]

YOU WERE USED to Simon being gone for long periods of time; you have been his roommate for two years now, nearly three. You know he’s military, it’s part of the reason why you were able to score being his roommate in the first place. At first, it was a very awkward arrangement. Simon himself wasn’t a very awkward person, no—he’s actually quite charismatic in his own way, a way that you could get along with. One of the reasons why the arrangement was strange at first was because you weren’t exactly able to get a one on one tour of the flat before agreeing, but you were a bit more trusting of this mysterious man because a mutual friend—Kate—sent you his contact information, considering you were looking for a new place to live since your lease was up.

Simon’s flat was void of any personality, really. Yes, you could tell by the way he organized everything that he had been in the military, probably for quite a while—but there weren’t any photos. No gaming systems; you discovered he did have a bookcase of quite a few books, but it was covered in a layer of dust. Despite this, when examining the books he owned, you could tell they were worn down—definitely loved. It made you smile a bit, seeing the different variety of books. A bit of personality, you think. Besides his room, it was like a completely furnished, no personality flat. You weren’t allowed in his room, not unless he gave you explicit permission, which you honored his boundaries. Simon was kind enough to offer you a space in his home—but you know he was quite weary of you, which was understandable. He helped you move in and you could tell he was watching you and your body language. Searching you for danger—but he slowly warmed up to you.

Another thing that you discovered that Simon was quite emotionally.. constipated. Over the first few months, you could tell he didn’t sleep as much as he probably should. He was always awake before you, and you would always find him in the kitchen, sipping on a hot cup of tea. After a few weeks of this routine—Simon rising much earlier than you, you figured maybe he couldn’t break the military’s strict routines.. Until one night you woke up from the sound of his heavy footsteps walking down the hall. You tensed in your bed and you sat up because Simon was silent as a ghost all the time. You didn’t even know if it was him at first, so in your half-asleep panicked state, you felt for your phone and you texted Simon’s contact, asking a messily texted “is that you walking around?” You blink your sleepiness away and wipe your eye as your phone vibrates with a “yeah. sorry.”

That was the first time you got some notion that Simon was thrown off guard from something, after another week of awakening from his noises, you began to realize that he was experiencing night terrors every couple of nights. His nightmares were never a thing you two discussed, exactly.. It was more of an unspoken rule to not talk about it. You would occasionally find yourself in the kitchen around the time you calculated when Simon would wake up—and you were right nearly every time—and you just.. coincidentally made him a cup of tea. To Simon’s pleasant surprise, you managed to get his tea right every single time. You’ve had your fair share of night terrors, so you knew how it could be sometimes. You wanted to do something nice for him, and he seemed flustered every time.

It took you a while to get used to him being gone for long periods of time. Simon appreciated that you never questioned too deeply into his career, even the times he would come home sporting a new injury, you were always willing to play doctor for him. Simon saw the concern in your eyes and sometimes he would share small stories of what happened, or maybe to get you to stop thinking about his injuries, a small story about his teammates. You slowly learned their names over the course of a year and a half, and you learned Simon’s rank as well. He is a lieutenant, and there’s a man called Captain Price, another man named Sergeant Kyle Garrick, and one more man named Sergeant John MacTavish, who Simon referred to as “Johnny” fondly.

It wasn’t common that Simon talked about work, which is the reason why it took about a year and a half to even get the information you did out of him. Over the time you’ve lived with him, you had decorated the flat to feel more comfortable and home-y. Simon only had a few requests, which you honored, and one of them was no pictures of him with his face showing. You shot him a curious and questioning look, but as always—you didn’t question him, and he was very thankful. You had gotten a few indoor plants as well that didn’t need much caring for and you wanted to liven up the place, y’know? You were okay with Simon not sharing much about his past or his work, because he was willing to listen to your little rambles about your interests and work. You were a bit hesitant, but Simon was very emotive and he never seemed annoyed or brushed you off.

Despite Simon’s reluctance to share anything of his own, he always heard you out if you needed to vent about something. He made sure you knew you could talk to him, even on days where you felt like you had no one to go to. You spent an entire night with him, just talking about anything and everything. It was the first real conversation you felt like you have had with anyone in such a long time. It was also the first night Simon really saw you. He watched as your eyebrows furrowed from uncomfortableness, the vulnerability being nearly too much to handle; something he could relate to on a personal level. So when you started showing these signs, he knew exactly when to change the subject. Simon quickly realized how to read you, and he somehow knew what you needed at different moments.

Simon flies into the airport late at night with a small duffel bag, tagged as a military bag. He sends you a quick “be home soon.” text. Simon doesn’t expect you to answer due to it being around 3 in the morning, and you indeed don’t answer him. He catches a taxi to your shared flat. Simon collects his things from the taxi before paying the driver and sending them off, and Simon lets out a slow breath as he takes in the achingly familiar sight of the place he lives in. He tugs the hood that remains sitting over his head closer to his face, which is covered by a black surgical mask. His hand tightens on the straps of the duffel bag before he approaches the flat building, taking out his keys as he approaches the elevator. Once Simon reaches the third floor, he wastes no time getting to the front door, and he isn’t sure why, but his heart is pounding inside of his chest.

Simon unlocks both the top lock and the doorknob to enter the flat—something he had taught you to do every single time. He pockets his keys as he enters and Simon pauses for a moment because he can’t put his finger on it, but something feels off the second he glanced inside. His eyes trail the living room which is clean, not one thing out of place. Simon takes a deep breath and he doesn’t brush off the weird feeling, because even when there’s no evidence something happened—he’s usually right. The blanket on the couch is perfectly folded and laid over the back cushions, the mini bookcase by the TV is dusted as always, your shoes.. Are not by the front door, but a different pair are..? These either are not your shoes, or they are new. You always warned Simon about bringing people over, and you definitely would’ve told him this time. The lamp is on in the living room, but it seems the lights are out everywhere else. Simon silently goes through his routine when he gets back late at night—taking his jacket off and hanging it up, he leaves his boots by the door, and he drops his keys into the dish.

Next step to his routine is to step into the kitchen and get a cup of actually good quality tea, unlike the shit the military provides him. He fills up the electric kettle and sets a timer on it, grabbing his favorite mug and the box of his favorite tea from the cabinets. Simon glances down the dark hall—he’s seeking for a sign of life from you because you’re usually getting up around this time to greet him. No matter what, you always seem to know when he returns—yet you aren’t leaving your room. There’s no light emitting from the hall nor underneath the doors, and fuck, it’s eating at him. Something is wrong—and what the fuck is it? Simon stands there for a moment, turning his head to watch the blue light blinking on the electric kettle. He watches it blink slowly as he tries to rack his brain for what could be wrong—maybe those shoes are someone else’s, but he could just have a stern conversation with you about it later. Maybe you came back from drinking with friends—no, if that was the case, he knows for a fact your belongings would be everywhere, maybe even a spilled glass of water in the kitchen. He’s had to clean that up a couple of times.

He raises his wrist and pulls up his sleeve a bit to look at his digital watch; it’s nearly 0400 now. Simon puts his hands on the counter, leaning his body weight against it. Did something happen at work, maybe that’s why it feels off? You’ve always had a commanding presence like he has, so maybe— “Fuck.” Simon hisses quietly, hooking a finger into the strap of his black face mask and he rips it off, tossing it without care onto the counter. He leans forward and checks the kettles timer for a second, and then he’s walking towards the hall. Simon passes by his room and he walks up to yours, and he tries to turn the doorknob to peak in to check on you, but—it’s locked? Simon lets out a harsh breath before trying the door again, and yeah, it’s locked. Simon swears under his breath and he knocks on the door, his stomach twisting and turning. Something is wrong, very very wrong, very fucking wrong—

You unlock the door and you open it just enough for you to peak out, and you use your phone flashlight to shine it in Simon’s face. He squints and puts his hand up, his voice rumbling in his chest. “Hey—you locked your door.” He points out quietly, and you’re just staring at him, your eyes wide and alert. Simon’s anxiety lessens, but your reaction doesn’t make it go away. “Y’alright?” Simon drawls out, his hand on the wood panel of the door. You let out a harsh breath and you let go of your phone, letting out a quiet, “Simon..” before you suddenly pull your door completely open, and you wrap your arms around his thick torso into a hug. Simon swears his heart jumps into his throat and then into his stomach, bouncing back into his chest because you hugged him. You two were never particularly touchy like that, maybe a fleeting touch here or two, usual drunken affection from you—but you barely ever hugged him like this, even when he returned from deployments. Your touch burns hot through his clothes, and he knows you wouldn’t touch him without asking, so when you do? He wraps an arm around you, his free arm resting on your shoulder. “Hey..” Simon breathes out, lost for words.

You don’t hold on long enough for the uncomfortable worry to creep up his spine just yet. You rip yourself away from him like he burned you, his hands falling to his sides. You offer a tight, weak smile—one that you could easily play off as a sign of fatigue. Simon’s breath stutters as he watches your hands linger near your chest in a subconscious defensive gesture, your fingers closing into a fist for a moment; as if you’re uncomfortable, almost overstimulated. Simon feels the way for the light switch and he flips it on, and your room looks normal—but you look.. off. You look a bit clammy, almost like you’re sick or bouncing off the walls with anxiety. His eyes flick to your fingers and the skin besides your thumbnail and your middle finger are picked to all hell, and you just.. don’t seem right. All of these.. signs, you’re showing are actually very subtle—he just notices everything about you. Simon knows what food you favor, what your favorite color is, what social situations what you tick, what makes you mad—he knows it all. “Three months went by slow,” You murmur, trying to start a conversation. Simon’s eyes narrow at you for a moment as he watches you back up to your bed; no, you don’t turn around, you back up. You don’t turn your back to Simon at all. Fuck. He watches you lift your mattress, causing him to lift an eyebrow. “They did,” Simon confirms. “What happened while I was gone?”

This wasn’t an unusual question for Simon to ask; but it had a completely different meaning to you this time. You feel your muscles tense as you grab something from under your mattress, and you put it back down. It glints from the overhead light in your bedroom—a.. pocket knife of some sort, a switchblade perhaps. Simon’s eyes narrow at how you pocket it oh so quickly into your pocket. “Nothing much,” You reply quickly, smoothing out your shirt. “Same old same old, work has been fine, uh..” You trail off for a moment, clearing your throat. “Look, let me take a shower—I’m sure you’re itching for something to eat, huh?” Simon watches you open your drawers and pick out some pants and a shirt. The knife comes to mind—why are you taking it with you? “I can make it myself.” Simon responds, his feet planted firmly where he had been standing the whole time. You shake your head and close the drawers once you collect your clothes.

“It’s tradition, Simon. I gotta.” You offer a stronger smile as you make your way towards the door, still avoiding showing your back towards him. Simon watches as you glance at your bedroom window before exiting your room, muttering a quiet “close the door when you leave”, which Simon obeys. He shuts the door with a click, and he watches you quickly scurry down the hall towards the bathroom. “Just let me shower first.” And with that, you step into the bathroom, close the door and you lock it before Simon can interject. He stands there for a moment, stunned. His chest tightens for a moment because you just felt so far away. You’ve created such unwanted distance—even as you’re not very touchy with him, you still bother him for every detail he’s willing to give up when he returns. You are constantly making jokes, inviting him into the kitchen when you’re about to make a welcome home meal—but this time? You were hiding in your room, locking your door, bringing a knife with you—in front of him. Did you think that could slip past him? Did something happen whilst he was gone, to cause you to bring it with you? Is it for self defense against something or someone?— Is it to use on yourself?

Simon feels his stomach turn at his thoughts. He shakes his head and sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He walks past the bathroom, his footsteps stuttering for a moment in front of the door before he presses his lips into a thin line, returning to the kitchen to make himself some tea, the electric kettle had beeped long ago.

The next late morning, not much was different. Simon only slept a few hours, three or four—as per usual, he still woke up before you. He threw on a pair of sweatpants, and a black hoodie. He made his tea, made you a cup of what you prefer to drink in the morning, and he made a light breakfast for you both. Despite being in the military for a while and relying on cooks as well as MRE’s to get through his days, Simon is a decent cook. He made himself some sausage and fried eggs, and he made a plate or a bowl of what you prefer to eat in the morning. Simon sighs for a moment as he glances at the time—around 1100, and you still haven’t emerged from your room which is odd, especially now that Simon just came back home. He takes a moment to look at his food, and he decides then and there he will drag you out if he has to. Simon scoops up his plate as well as your food, and he heads down the hall towards your room. With his hands full, Simon balances for a second as he gently kicks the door as a way to knock, and then he stands on both of his feet again. “Oi, wake up!” Simon shouts, leaning close to the door to listen for your movement.

It takes a good minute and when Simon is about to knock again; he hears your doorknob unlock and you peak out the door, your eyes wide and alert again, although it’s obvious you had just woken up. You seem to relax when your tired mind’s gears turn and you realize it’s just Simon. You open your door wider and you rub your eye, and he spots the knife in your hand, partially obscured by the door. “Mm, sorry. I overslept.” You say, your voice heavy with sleep, vibrating in your chest. Simon makes a noncommittal noise before holding out your food, which you stare at for a moment you take it, your lips twitching into a weak smile. “Thanks, Simon.” He waits a few seconds, and you nearly shut your door on him.

Thanks, Simon. That’s all??

“Can I eat in your room wit’you?” Simon gruffs out, feeling sudden determination from this weird act you have going on. You blink for a moment and then you nod. “Just give me a sec.” You murmur. You shut the door in his face and he hears you shuffling about, moving something—sounds like your mattress. Are you putting your knife away??—and then you open your door, gesturing for Simon to walk into your room. Surely you don’t think you can hide this type of thing from him of all people, right? Why are you hiding it from him?

Simon enters your room, and you close the door behind him. You never used to do that—“What happened?” Simon stares at you for an answer, watching your face contort in a bit of confusion. You don’t say anything at first, and when you were about to open your mouth, Simon speaks. “I mean this in the nicest way possible—do ya take me f’a wanker?” Your jaw drops for a moment, your eyebrows furrowing. “What? No, of course not, Simon. Nothing happened, I’m not sure why—“

“Don’t,” Simon interrupts, putting his plate of food on your dresser. “Something has happened, and you’re lyin’ to me. You’re jumpy, you’re carryin’ a blood knife around, lovie—don’t think you can get that past me—and you won’t turn your back on me.” His lips press into a line as he watches your shoulder hunch up a bit, in an all too familiar defensive, tense position. The pit in Simon’s stomach begins to grow as you avert your eyes from, too. “You are barely talkin’ when you bloody damn near talk my ear off when I come home—you said, ‘Thanks, Simon.’ Not an over the top reaction about me doing something for th’both of’us, not a invite in, and last night—you’ve been locking your door.” You put your food down near yourself, and Simon catches the way your fingers are trembling. “I.. I’m allowed to lock my door, Simon. You don’t need to question me.” You say, attempting to hold a steady voice which barely works, your voice nearly cracking on the last word. Your heart is racing out of your chest and all you want to do is bolt at the door; which Simon catches on to. You watch him as he slowly begins to step in front of the door. “You tell me everything—even how your damn showers go. Why won’t you tell me this?” He demands, and his heart is pounding against his ribcage, too.

He watches your face contort into several different emotions and feelings; panic, sadness, anger, relief—the whole nine yards. Simon walks towards you when you begin to sob, and you sit down on your bed to avoid collapsing. His chest tightens as he murmurs name, wondering if he went too far. You reach your hands for him and not for one second does Simon hesitate this time. He wraps his arms around you, sitting right next to you on your mattress, your thighs touching together. He reaches up and rubs the nape of your neck as you openly sob and shutter into the crook of his neck and in his arms. His skin burns from your heat seeping into his clothes, a lively warmth that burns so hot but he welcomes so much more than he remembers that he used to. Your tears are hot, burning his skin with every drop that slides onto his neck, but he welcomes the sensation. “It’s alright, lovie. Let it out.” Simon murmurs, one of his arms tugging your body closer to his. He holds you in almost protective stance, like someone is threatening to drag you away from his grasp. You grab at the back of his hoodie, your chest beginning to heave. “Mm, no, c’mere; look at me, yeah?” Simon beckons you, his voice smooth and soft—which is extremely rare. Simon cups your cheek and lifts your head from where it rests in the crook of his neck, his hand instantly getting covered in the wetness of your tears that are streaming down your cheeks. You inhale sharply as you try to look at Simon, your eyes unfocused and you try so hard to focus on his pretty brown eyes, but you can’t seem to get ahold of yourself. You let out a panicked sob as your hand now tug on the front of his hoodie, and his voice is so far away, but his hand is molding to the curve of your jaw, like it belongs there.

You shut your eyes for a moment and you let Simon move you around as he wants, which he ends up guiding your head to his chest, and his grip loosens some so you don’t feel trapped. It takes you a moment to catch your breath, to catch your bearings; you can hear a faint ringing sound that you didn’t notice before, but you do note it’s slowly fading away, and in fades is Simon’s voice. He’s murmuring praises—and oh, he’s laying against the headboard of your bed frame now, with you laying on his chest. You feel yourself trembling against him, and embarrassment hits you hard. You’re tense—you don’t want to talk about any of it at all, but you know Simon. He will push you until you snap, even if it’s in your best interest to tell him. You reach up and play with a hoodie string of his, listening to his soft breathing. You hesitate for a moment before your lips part. “It was a week after you left.” Simon’s heart skips a beat, which you hear—you vaguely find it amusing, but he’s silent to allow you to continue. One of his hands is on your back, his thumb moving back and forth. “I..” You swallow spit so you don’t croak, as you’re convinced you might sound pathetic. As if Simon would ever think of you that way. “I was walking home from the pub, y’know, the one only just a few blocks away? It was late at night, I think the police said it was around 2 am. I stayed until closing, I was with some of my friends, uh..” You trail off for a moment, trying to recall everything that happened. Your hand pauses, and Simon senses your state. He begins to rub your back full on, murmuring, “It’s alright. Go on, then.”

You let out a shaky breath before continuing. “I was absolutely wasted, and there was this guy—grabbed me and I tried to get out of his hold, but he ended up fucking stabbing me. Robbed me of my shit.” Your voice cracks and the silence is deafening. Simon feels his heart drop into his stomach. You got stabbed? “Fuckin’ hell.. Why didn’t you call me? Or at least let me know?” Simon’s voice treats carefully, knowing that you’re still freaking out by the way you’re incredibly tense against him. “I know how important your focus is when you’re gone,” You respond, your voice staying quiet as well. You don’t look at Simon’s face because you know that you’ll break once again. You pick at the fabric of his hoodie, seeking comfort in his warmth, despite how you usually aren’t like this with him. “I didn’t want to take your focus because I know you, Simon. You would’ve backed out of whatever you were trying to do to come and help me.” Simon presses his lips into a thin line, staying quiet because you both know that you’re correct. Simon would drop everything to come home to you, to help you. “The guy nicked my lung, was in the hospital for a while.” Simon’s hand stutters for a moment, the smooth pattern of his palm rubbing your back being interrupted from shock. “Jesus—“ Simon hisses, and he can’t help but tug you closer. “You should’ve told me anyway, lovie.”

You sniffle and you rub your face into his hoodie, a muffled noncommittal noise coming from the back of your throat. He doesn’t say anything further, nor do you. Simon lays there with you on top of him, one of his hands caressing your back, the other wrapped around your body, sometimes coming up to rub the back of your neck. You don’t mention the way he doesn’t seem to tell you to move, and he doesn’t mention how touchy you’re being. Simon doesn’t want this moment to end—one where you’re vulnerable and trusting with him, one where you’re alive and well. He can’t help but wonder if he ever made you feel like you couldn’t tell him something? Simon feels simmering, muffled anger in his stomach because you didn’t want to interrupt his work for being stabbed, nicking a vital organ no less—he makes a mental note to sit you down and make you promise to call him if an issue or an injury like that ever arises again. He closes his eyes for a moment, trying to push away what would happen if you didn’t do that—if that guy were to come back to try to finish the job and Simon wasn’t here, would you call him? Would you pick up your phone and dial his number? Would you text him? What if you got hurt again—would you call him?—Or would the hospital? He always imagined you’d be getting the call of his death, and not the other way around. Simon swears under his breath for a moment and opens his eyes; he doesn’t want to think about that anymore. He wants to stay in this moment with you—both himself and you alive. He glances down, your tear stained cheeks slowly drying, your eyelids closed. His fingers slide from the nape of your neck to the side, and he presses his fingers against your pulse.

Being here with you—he wants you to trust him, too; like he trusts you. That’s all he wants.

tag: @zzzennin

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star-girl69 · 3 months

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After Midnight

Caroline (KK) Harvey x Fem!Reader

—-

synopsis: flirting with the star hockey player at the frat party isn’t what you would normally do, but it’s after midnight and something about the lights is making everything a little hazy.

feel free to send requests!!! 🫶🫶

a/n: GUYS PLEASE. PLEASE IGNORE THIS. i’m sorry i’ve betrayed all my morals… but i cant sit idly by while my fellow kk lovers suffer… i hope you all enjoy!!

After Midnight - Chappell Roan

warnings: not proofread!!!, ALCOHOL!!! we are in a FRAT people!!, some swearing ofc, super brief barely there mentions of violence and such, kk is taller than reader by like an inch suck it idc i do what i want, super brief mention of y/n having hair (length unspecified), idk like a bit of kissing and some somewhat suggestive thoughts… y/n is a freak 💔, i’ve never flirted with anyone before how do you do this, so probs inaccurate, i don’t know anything about hockey just prefacing this, i also don’t know how college works rip, as chappell roan said: “i love a little drama, let’s start a bar fight, cause everything good happens after midnight”

—-

“Shit, babe, you look fuckin’ hot.”

This entire night is almost painful for you. Stepping out of your comfort zone on any level is always an adjustment, but trading your early nights in with homework and Netflix for a sexy dress showing everything in all the right and wrong places- is especially hard.

You almost cringe touching the velvet fabric of your revealing dark red shirt, staring at someone in the mirror you don’t even recognize.

“Jackie,” you mumble to your best friend and roommate, “I think it’s.. too much.”

Jackie tilts her head to the side, short dirty blonde hair swaying with the movement. She’s only humoring you, you can tell. “Nope. Perfect.”

You look at the pictures stuck in the slats of the mirror. Pictures of you, Jackie, and the other girl in your trio, Tyla, faces pressed together in bright smiles from various adventures from your freshman year at college.

It was such a relief when Jackie was the sweetest girl and an amazing person to share a dorm with, but when she brought along her best friend Tyla from a few doors down- the three of you fell into a quick and beautiful friendship, like the ones in the movies.

Jackie and Tyla were definitely more on the party girl side than the study girl side, but that was what was so great about your friendship. You reminded them that they did in fact have homework, and they pushed you to do things like this every once in a while.

This was the first time you had ever suggested it. Midterms were over- it would be wrong to not celebrate. To breathe in the few seconds you had left as a freshman, before it all got turned up again for sophomore year.

“Okay,” Jackie breathes, clasping her hands in front of her chest. “Take a deep breath, babe. The fit is a lot, yes, but it’s gorgeous. I mean, damn, where have you been hiding that ass?”

You bite your lip, eyes tearing away from the pictures, meeting Jackie’s eyes in the reflection.

“My ass does look really good,” you concede.

“Hell yeah it does!” Jackie shouts, smiling brightly. “Don’t be nervous, okay? It’s just some random frat party. We can go sit outside if it gets too much.”

It’s break. It’s Friday night. You look good, however uncomfortable you are.

“Fuck,” you mumble. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”

“You’re good?”

“I’m just gonna do a few shots when we get there.”

“That’s my girl.”

Jackie thinks for a moment. “Besides, I think it’s a party to celebrate the girls hockey team winning a game, or something like that. The attention is gonna be far away from you. But…”

She trails off, picking at a piece of thread hanging from her comforter.

“What?” You ask, heart jumping to your throat in fear.

“Dylan might be there,” she shrugs.

Ugh.

Dylan.

Dylan wasn’t even that big of a problem, just a boy you had overzealously dated right when you got to college, when you were adjusting and still kind of lonely, only to find out his obsessive, stalker-ish personality was literal hell to be in a relationship with.

After maybe a week of constant love-bombing and clinginess, you broke up with him- and he tried for literal months to get your attention before he finally seemed to give up.

Once in a while, you’d see him at these parties, and he’d stare at you in a way that was probably supposed to be sexy, but was only weird and uncomfortable.

“Who gives a fuck about him?” You ask, your own surprise reflected in Jackie’s face.

“Damn, girl. Yeah, you’re fuckin’ right. Who gives a fuck about his sad ass?”

“I don’t,” you scoff, refusing to let him ruin your night.

The bathroom door slams open suddenly, revealing Tyla in an even more revealing black dress. Skin tight with cut outs showing her dark skin.

“Jesus Christ, I pity the other girls at that bar.” Tyla runs her hands down her sides, smiling brightly in a way that can only be joking.

And you laugh, and you laugh when she softly bumps you away from the mirror and admires herself even more.

—-

Because of this rash decision to go out, Tyla hadn’t done her usual shopping for the pregame so you were forced to go to the party early- which Tyla actually groaned at and complained about how “embarrassing” it was. But after a few shots, that embarrassment fell away and she was back to being the funny, confident girl you knew her as.

You talked amongst the three of you, and with the two boys who were acting as bartenders, until more and more people slowly started filing in and the sky got dark. It was probably close to 10pm by the time the party really got busy, and those first two hours faded into a montage of alcohol stinging your throat and the sounds of your best friends laughing.

When the hockey team finally arrived, you were sitting on a couch with your girls, Tyla talking in this played-up sensual voice to a random boy who had taken an interest in her, while you and Jackie were busy scouting out the new arrivals and the different kinds of alcohol they placed on the table.

Even if Jackie hadn’t off-handedly mentioned it earlier, you quickly would have found out who this party was for. A large group of girls walked into the party, immediately met with cheers and shots, swarmed with alcohol and congratulations.

Some guy, probably one who actually lived in this house, whipped out a shitty megaphone and shouted their arrival, but it wasn’t even that loud.

Even you, however studious you were, knew about the girl’s hockey team. A bunch of them had played on the Olympic team a few years ago, and all the students of this D1 school were generally pretty proud that the Wisconsin team had won the most national championships.

Most of them were wearing their jerseys, but a few had dressed up. The girl’s hockey team was probably the hottest, most talented group of girls to ever be within 100 feet of you.

It was almost unfair how all of them were so beautiful and so talented, but you suppose that the rigorous workout schedules of Olympic and national athletes didn’t leave a lot of room for anything other than a fuck ton of muscles.

God, half of them towered over you and all of them could probably break your wrist with just a flick.

It was impressive.

What was most impressive, though, is the way the infamous Caroline Harvey walked in carrying about 27 cases of beer, which must have weighed as much as this fucking house, and effortlessly set it all on the ground beside the table full of red solo cups, chasers, and bottles of vodka.

Cheers rang out and people scrambled towards it, ripping the cardboard boxes open greedily and opening them just as fast.

You watched, hiding your parted mouth with your hand, as Caroline accepted an open beer from someone, cheers with a few of her teammates and drank a long sip. When she was done, she laughed and lifted her shirt to her mouth to wipe off some stray liquid, a movement that let just a sliver of her toned abs peek through.

“Holy fuck,” you whispered, quickly looking to the floor and deciding hockey was your new favorite sport.

You knew her from around campus, you both liked to study in the library at the same time- around 3 on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and it became kind of tradition to just stare at her for a few minutes in between sections of your work. Almost like some weird little reward. You did feel kind of bad about it, but fuck, there was no way you could stop.

Besides, it’s not like she noticed.

You always sat on opposite sides of the library, and she never once even looked in your direction. What Caroline didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her, and you never see her unless it’s at the library or in passing at parties. But, God, doesn’t it feel good to just relish in how beautiful she is and stare for just a bit.

“Y/N, babe.”

Jackie knocked herself into you, her knees tucked up to her chest, some sort of a smile on her face.

“What’cha doin’?” She asks, smiling in a way that can only be described as evil. “Starin’? Hockey player pique your interest, huh?”

“No,” you say, forcing a laugh into your voice and rolling your eyes. “Just lookin’ at all the commotion.”

You’re trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, but now that Jackie’s mentioned it- those abs did pique your interest. And now they came flashing behind your eyes every time you blink.

“Oh, my God, I think I’m in heat,” you mumble, slightly to yourself and slightly to Jackie.

She wraps a lazy arm around your shoulder, letting out a sigh. “Oh, sweet girl, don’t worry. I’ve got you. Which one is it?”

“Caroline,” you mumble, so quiet and so sudden before you can really think about it.

Jackie hums, tilting her head to the side. “Don’t know a whole lot about her, but I heard she had a girlfriend freshman year, so definitely into girls. Not dating anyone right now, though. Olympian, hockey player, all that sexy stuff.”

“Mhmmmmm,” you mumble, sneaking a quick glance and then looking away immediately when she takes another sip of her drink, not wanting to know what would happen if you caught another glimpse of those god-sent abs.

“You gonna do somethin’ about it?” Jackie asks, nudging your head with hers.

“No, no,” you dismiss. “Just… being a freak. Admiring. God, I’m pathetic.”

Jackie laughs, abruptly standing and pulling you to your feet too. “Come on, babe, time for more drinks, let’s get your mind off of this if you’re not gonna make a move.”

You roll your eyes but follow her to the table of drinks farthest away from Caroline and the other hockey players. You’re not going to do anything, it’s not like you have a chance, and you’re just bored without schoolwork to occupy your every thought.

You take a deep breath, standing next to Jackie and surveying your options. Jackie choses for the both of you, definitely the more experienced party girl, mixing a drink that is majority vodka, making you groan slightly just at the thought of it.

“Here you go!” Jackie smiles, placing the red solo cup into your hand, smiling like she’s not trying to give you alcohol poisoning. Her gaze fixes on something behind you, and you faintly register the way her eyes light up- already a little tipsy from the few shots you’ve done- but you can’t even be bothered to question why.

You eye your drink suspiciously, mentally preparing yourself for the taste.

“Whoops,” Jackie mutters, and you look up at her only to feel her push you back.

“Jackie-” you start, angry, and she quickly scurries away from you. You want to kill her a little bit, at least question her- but you don’t get the chance to.

You gasp as you slam into someone behind you, drink splashing all over your front, alcohol mixing with the rich velvet texture of your shirt in a way that might very well ruin it. You bite your lip, glancing around the room, grateful that the room is so crowded and busy that no one noticed.

“Damn Harvey, knockin’ girls over on and off the ice,” someone laughs. You think you hear the sound of someone lightly hitting another person, followed by a small “ow.”

“Shit, I’m so sorry, are you okay?”

You turn around, Jackie nowhere to be found, and completely freeze when you realize not only did the person you slammed into have enough decency to ask if you were okay, but that person was fucking Caroline Harvey.

You would have laughed at how cliche it was if you weren’t so secretly exhilarated. The only reason you even had this drink was to stop shamefully staring at her.

But she’s right in front of you… and she looks even better like this, cheeks slightly flushed already from the alcohol, a glint in her eyes.

Her eyes meet yours, staring at you in obvious confusion and concern- “Hey? You okay?”

She places her hand on your waist and you suddenly return back into your body, looking anywhere but her eyes that were literally fucking drowning you.

“I’m sorry,” you gasp. “I-I’m fine. I’m just, like, really drunk.” You laugh, awkwardly, trying to pretend that you’re talking to just anyone. Trying to pretend like her hand on your waist wasn’t the hottest thing you’ve ever experienced.

She smiles, Jesus Christ that fucking smile, your knees go a little weak.

“Oh, good. Would be a shame if that pretty head got a concussion.”

You laugh, staring at her smile. Intoxicating. It’s the only word that comes to mind- maybe enchanted. She’s like some drug, and, God, it’s so stupid but you think you might be addicted after hearing her voice just once.

And, the suddenly, so vividly you almost fall over again, you realize what she said to you.

“Here, let me help you,” she says, effortlessly taking the now pretty much empty red solo cup from you and placing it on the table behind you, wrapping her arm around your waist and leading you to what you assume is a bathroom, probably where she was originally going. “I’m Caroline, but you can call me KK.”

Your mouth is slightly agape as she leads you through the crowd, and you suddenly pass by Jackie who gives you a big smile and a thumbs up- disappearing into the crowd before you can curse her name.

Fuck it. She’s right in front of you. The alcohol is getting to your head, the dim lighting is making everything hazy- everything except her pretty blue eyes and her intoxicating smile.

“KK,” you say, testing the nickname. “That’s cute. I’m Y/N.”

“That’s cute,” she echoes, and the way you can hear the smile on her voice seriously makes you almost fall over.

Thankfully, the bathroom she leads you to is kind of out of the way, it’s completely empty and the door clicks behind the two of you.

Your mood immediately deflates when you see yourself in the mirror, your top noticeably darker where sticky alcohol has sunk into the fabric.

“Fuck,” you mumble, peeling the sticky fabric from your skin.

Before you can even think to do anything, Caroline- KK- is running a random hand towel under the sink and gesturing to you. You expect her to hand it to you- but she doesn’t.

“Okay if I touch you?”

God in Heaven.

“Y-yeah,” you choke out, feeling your world literally recalibrate when she puts her hand on your shoulder- so fucking close to your neck- to keep you steady. You always thought it was the stereotype that basketball players have big hands, but apparently hockey players do too.

Her hand is really warm. This bathroom is suddenly really warm. Your cheeks are heating up, and as much as you try to tell yourself it’s from the alcohol- you know it’s not.

“Sorry,” she mumbles after a few more seconds. “I don’t think this is gonna do much. Maybe try putting it in the wash, though.”

You sigh, now turned sideways, hip to the bathroom sink, looking at yourself out of the corner of your eye.

“It’s fine, my friend… bumped into me, and then I backed up straight into you. Not your fault.”

You look up at her, realizing at this close proximity that she’s taller than you, maybe only an inch.

“I might just go home,” you sigh, feeling kind of disgusting in this nasty shirt.

A frown immediately forms on her face.

“Party’s just started, though. Can’t go home yet, baby.”

She wants you to die. She literally wants you to die. She’s secretly an assassin, and you’ve blocked out the memory of some horrible crime you’ve committed, and now she’s here to kill you by calling you baby and having the sexiest abs you’ve ever seen.

Not a bad way to go, though.

“Here,” she says, reaching up and tugging her jersey over her head, again revealing those fucking abs, and she’s left in a black tank top you didn’t even notice the first time you were staring at her abs. “Take my jersey.”

“Oh, no. I can’t, KK. I mean…”

“I was getting hot anyways, it’s good. Take it.”

It’s nicer quality than any other jersey you’ve ever touched before- nicer than the obligatory Wisconsin sweatshirt you bought at the school store.

You cough, taking it with a hand that shakes slightly, not able to look at her.

“…Thank you,” you say after a moment.

She smiles, big and goofy. “It’s no problem. Maybe you can repay me by having a drink with me, though?”

You pretend to think about it, but really you have to knock your knees together so you don’t fall to the floor in excitement.

“That’s a pretty good price.”

You finally meet her eyes, holding your breath as she stares into your eyes like they’re a lifeline.

“Yeah, a drink with my sexy self- pretty good fuckin’ deal.”

You laugh, and she takes a step back, looking you up and down in a way that literally gives you butterflies-

“I’ll let you change,” she says. “Come find me when you’re done, yeah, baby?”

“I’ll find you,” you breathe, turning around to start slipping off your shirt so she doesn’t see the way you literally bite your lip.

The jersey is huge, since they have to be to cover all the padding and gear hockey players wear, and you’re almost worried that you’d look really stupid in it- but your jean bottoms pull it together, somehow.

It smells good. It smells dark, like a forest, still with a hint of something fresh and light. Is this her perfume? You might want to bathe in it.

You still look pretty good, and your mind races, wondering if KK would compliment you in it- but someone bangs on the bathroom door.

“Y/N?!” Jackie. “Y/N? Holy fucking shit- did I just see what I think I saw?!”

Tyla quickly shouts too. “I got dragged away from a really hot guy for this!! Please tell me it’s true!!!”

You open the door wordlessly, holding your hands out wide so Jackie and Tyla can see the the jersey, the Badgers emblem.

“Ladies, hold your applause.”

“What the fuck!” Tyla screams, forcing you to turn around, then tracing a finger along your back, no doubt where Caroline’s last name is printed on. “Harvey. Fucking Caroline Harvey.”

“God, she’s so hot,” Jackie groans, and you whip around to shoot her a glare. “Calm down, jealous bitch, I mean this is hot. Fuck, does she have any friends? This red is a good color on me…”

“Well,” you smile, mirroring Jackie’s own “evil” smile from earlier, “She said to come find her and get a drink. With her.”

“A drink…” Tyla breathes. “With… fucking Caroline Harvey?”

“Fucking Caroline Harvey.”

“I think I might faint from, like, secondhand hotness.”

“Well,” Jackie starts, looking away from the jersey in awe and back at your face, “You look hot. Go over there right now, get that girl, and make out. Just- right on the couch. Fuck right on the couch.”

“I second that,” Tyla smiles, adjusting the jersey slightly. “Fuck her.”

“Okay, shut up, thanks. We’ll see where the night goes.”

“Oh, my God, I can’t even believe you’re doing this. What happened to my little studious best friend?”

“Alcohol,” you shrug, momentarily wondering if you would regret all of this the next morning- but everything is just so goddamn hazy in this frat house, and you can’t think straight, can’t think about anything other than her.

“Okay, okay,” Tyla says, grabbing your shoulders and staring into your eyes like she’s about to gift you with the greatest wisdom. “You want her to come back?”

You inhale sharply. “Maybe.”

“Okay, well, if this goes good- you gotta leave her before midnight.” She glances at her watch, “It’s 11:06 right now, flirt her and romance her, all that, but leave before midnight, got it?”

“Um… why, though?”

“To keep her guessing, to keep her thinking about you, obviously,” Tyla rolls her eyes. “Trust me girl. We’ll meet you outside at 12 and then take an Uber back, right?”

“Right,” you and Jackie both repeat.

“If you really want her, before midnight, okay?”

“Okay, okay, Tyla. I’ll meet you guys then?”

Jackie pretends to wipe a few tears away. “My girl’s all grown up.”

“Shut up,” you laugh, hugging both of them quickly before disappearing into the crowd of people.

—-

You make your way towards a big couch, some armchairs, and a coffee table filled with liquor.

KK’s eyes light up when she sees you, and you notice there’s a conveniently placed empty seat right next to her, and two cups in her hands.

You don’t think anyone has noticed you wearing her jersey yet, and if someone has commented on KK’s lack of jersey, you can’t tell. You smooth it down, take a deep breath and plaster a smile on your face.

A seductive one, you hope, one like Tyla would do. And with the way she mirrors your smile with her own- except this one is just as big and goofy- you think it’s working.

“Y/N?”

Someone walks past you, then immediately stops and steps back, looking right at you.

“Yeah-?”

Oh.

“Hi, Dylan,” you mutter, smile falling from your face immediately.

“Y/N. I haven’t seen you in… forever, it feels like. How’ya been?”

“I’m fine, Dylan. I’m sorry, I’m meeting somebody, okay?” His face falls, and you feel sort of bad, so you add on “Talk soon,” to make yourself feel better.

“Wait,” he says, grabbing your arm, eyes moving from yours down to your outfit. “The fuck are you wearing? A jersey?”

“…Yes,” you say after a moment, genuinely confused until you remember how much Dylan despises sports, thinks they’re all just some popularity contest. “Okay, I’m meeting someone. Bye, Dylan.”

“Hi,” a new voice says, and you smile just a bit when you realize it’s Caroline. “I’m Caroline,” she says, ever-so politely, and it kinda makes your stomach twist. “Are you a friend of Y/N’s?”

Dylan’s eyes narrow at her. “No, I’m her ex.”

“Oh, my God,” you mumble to yourself, stepping close to Caroline. “Shut up.”

KK shoots you a look, and you can’t help but avoid your eyes. You tug your arm away from Dylan, but he doesn’t budge.

“Dylan, please,” you sigh. “I have to go, okay? Let go.”

“No, Y/N, come on-”

“Uh, I think she said let go, buddy.” She still has that same smile on her face, but your eyes flick to her exposed arms, now noticing just how much muscle is there too. There’s this glint to her smile, this edge to her voice, and you would genuinely be kinda scared if it was directed at you.

“This doesn’t involve you,” Dylan huffs. “Y/N and I need to talk- why the fuck are you going around trying to purposefully piss me off? You know I hate sports.”

“Dylan,” you start, genuinely having to take a deep breath. “We dated for a week in freshman year. Let go of me, stop embarrassing yourself, and stop talking to us.”

He stares at you, before scoffing and letting your arm drop. “You’re such a fucking bitch.”

“Okay,” you sigh. “Thank you, Dylan, goodbye.” You turn around, wondering if KK is even going to be there anymore. “I’m sorry-”

“What the fuck is his problem?” She says, and you genuinely smile at the pure disgust on her face. “Seriously- what?”

“I’m sorry,” you giggle. “It’s just… you’re so, disgusted by him.”

“You aren’t?”

“Well, yeah. But I know him.”

“And I’m sorry for that. I met him once and I never want to meet him again. Weird fucking bitch.”

You laugh again, linking your arm through hers without thinking. “Thanks for trying to defend me, though. I’m sorry- he’s just… an annoying bug that won’t go away, normally he doesn’t talk to me- but I guess he was bored tonight.”

“Don’t be sorry. I’m sorry, I think we lost the seats I saved.”

You look towards the couch, now completely filled with hockey players. “It’s okay,” you hum. “We can find somewhere else. Wanna go outside?”

—-

With the hum of the party behind you, and the stream of people walking out and walking in, the little bench on the corner of the porch was shrouded in darkness, and you felt like you were just in your own little corner with KK.

You sipped on the drink she had gotten you, exchanging basic information like what majors you were taking, how many siblings you had, and al that boring stuff before she finally stopped talking and just looked at you for a moment.

“What?” you asked, wiping some of your sip from around your lips.

She smiles. “Nothing. My jersey just looks nice on you.”

“Oh,” you say, stupidly. “Really? I was worried it didn’t get the same vibe as my original fit.”

“No, I would say you look even better.”

You smile, taking another sip for confidence before you place your hand on her arm. “So, tell me about hockey. Maybe workout routines?”

She laughs. “Workout routines?”

You softly squeeze her bicep. “Well, you don’t get these by just sitting around, do you?”

She takes a sip of her drink, trying to slyly cover her face, and you smile even wider.

“No, you don’t.” When she looks back at you, there’s the faintest hint of something on her cheeks, you don’t move your hand, sinking back into that addiction of making her blush. “Mostly lifting weights, cardio, boring things.”

“M’kay, what about actual hockey? I heard you were an Olympian, right?”

She flexes her other arm, and you can see a tattoo made up of the Olympics logo, intertwining rings, on her inner bicep.

“I’m defense, number 4, and I’m basically the star of the team.”

“Really?” You laugh, pressing your thigh against hers. “Would your other teammates agree with that?”

“Ehhh, maybe don’t ask them so you stay all impressed.”

You smile, and suddenly you realize you’ve been smiling all night ever since you started talking to her. And it feels so good to smile with her, it feels so good to be all giddy, and even when Dylan was bothering you it felt good knowing she was right behind you. And it felt even better when you turned around and she was still behind you.

“Can I have your number?” You blurt out.

“Course, baby.”

You hand her your phone, feeling like a damn middle schooler with a raging crush, and she hands you hers.

You make your contact name Jersey Stealer and she laughs when she sees it, and that sound might be your favorite thing about her- second only to her abs.

You can feel the night coming to the end, but it’s a good end, a comfortable one, and there’s definitely doors unopened and words unsaid. It feels like a really sweet beginning to something really beautiful.

You check your phone, smiling at the contact name of Hockey Star and seeing the time is 11:58.

“My friends are waiting for me,” you say, almost with a grimace. The night is coming to an end but you still don’t want it to end. And like clockwork, you watch as Jackie and Tyla walk out of the party arm in arm- sneaking subtle glances all the way to the end of the driveway, eventually disappearing out of sight behind a tree.

“Oh,” she says. “No problem.”

She sounds disappointed. It makes your stomach twist yet again, to know she doesn’t want this to end as much as you do.

You both stand up and walk to the edge of the porch, down the steps and onto the concrete walkway to the driveway. Somewhere along the way, your hand had slipped into yours.

You stop where concrete meets driveway, turning around to face her. She tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, and you don’t think you’ll ever get used to the feeling of her skin on yours. It feels like an electric rush, like an addictive high.

“I’m really glad I give you a concussion.”

You laugh. “I’m glad you didn’t either.”

She looks from your lips back to your eyes, and you’re suddenly reminded that, yes, kissing exists- and you suddenly want to kiss her. Badly.

Fuck.

“Okay, well, I’ll let you go.”

You softly place your hand on her face. You lean forward, placing your lips in a grey area between her cheek and her lips.

“Goodnight, Caroline,” you whisper, an inch away from her skin.

Suddenly she surges forward, lips fully pressing against yours, hand on your waist, and God does the feeling of her lips on yours feel so good, so right.

Oh, God. She’s succeeded in killing you, you think to yourself- everything fading out for a moment before it all comes rushing back in. The sounds of the party, the chill of the nighttime air, and the sweet sweet feeling of Caroline’s lips on yours.

You don’t think your lips will ever recover from this feeling, from the weight of her lips on yours- you’ll always be chasing this feeling, this moment.

Tyla’s words flash in your mind. You revel in this moment for a heartbeat longer until, just as quick as she kissed you, you pull back.

“Didn’t know you were the type to kiss girls on the first date, Harvey. How scandalous.”

She seems disappointed you pulled away. You can see it in her pretty blue eyes- it makes you feel like you’re on top of the world.

“Are you really just any girl?”

“Nope,” you smile, silently thanking Tyla and every star in the sky- you can see it in her eyes, the way she wants to kiss you senseless, and if the game didn’t feel so good you would have let her.

And the way she’s looking at you, slightly blown away, completely in awe, lips parted but curling into a smile- it gives you an addictive rush.

“Text me when you want your jersey back.”

You take a step back, softly prying her hand off of your waist, but holding onto it for a moment.

“Oh, no, you can wear that to my next game.”

“Really?” You smile, fingertips grazing the back of her knuckles as she tries to hold onto you, but you eventually let go. “You’ll save me a good seat?”

“The best seat,” she corrects. “For the best girl.”

This time, you don’t bother to try and hide the way she makes you feel. You clench your thighs together and let your tongue dart out to slightly lick your lips.

“I’ll be there. You better win, though.” You turn around, then look over your shoulder to see her eyes fall down to your ass.

“With a pretty good luck charm like you? I’ll probably score the winning goal.”

“Bye, Caroline,” you say over your shoulder, smiling so brightly you’re sure you look all lovesick. You can’t care, it’s just how you feel for her. Maybe you should be embarrassed, the way she makes you feel kinda like silly putty in her hands, but it feels so good. So right.

“Bye, Y/N.” Her voice is breathy.

And when you check your phone, you see it’s after midnight. So much for Tyla’s advice.

But, you think to yourself, shoes clicking on concrete and KK’s gaze on your back, you kissed her after midnight- maybe all the good things just happen after midnight.

—-

laila when kk hit her for saying the taking girls down on and off the ice thing: 😞😞😞💔💔💔💔💔

y/n also being happy that she left kk AFTER midnight bc she doesn’t just want her she actually likes her

jackie and tyla wingwoman supremes i love them sm

dylan you are annoying i wish you suffering

#caroline harvey #caroline harvey x reader #kk harvey #kk harvey x reader #ncaa hockey x reader

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max1461 · 8 months

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How is the statement that "English is kind of a Frankenstein language, it's a mix between German, French, and Latin!" wrong? I get it’s phrased in a misguided way: English and German supposedly both came from Proto-Germanic rather than German being in the “mix ”, the French influence being more lexical items and orthographic conventions than grammatical patterns etc. Is it that the statement ignores the way other languages have been influenced by surrounding languages?

sorry if this comes off as rude, I don’t know much about language

It's not just phrased in a misguided way, it's totally incorrect! You're right that the real truth is that English and German share a common ancestor, Proto-Germanic. This is very different than English being a "mix of German and [anything]". Indeed, there are many languages descended from Proto-Germanic, including Swedish and Icelandic and Dutch. Descent from Proto-Germanic is what defines the Germanic language family. You could just as well say "English is a mix of Swedish and [whatever]", but that would also be false.

Beyond that, all (or most) languages probably share a common ancestor somewhere deep in prehistory, it's just that we can't confidently trace things that far. English probably shares a common ancestor with Chinese at some time depth; this does not make English a "mix of Chinese and [whatever]".

The other reason this is inaccurate it that, yes, it's true that English has borrowed a lot of words from French, and a lesser but still substantial number from Greek and Latin. But calling English a "Frankenstein language" obscures the fact that significant areal influence (influence from other languages) like this is a part of most languages' histories, it's perfectly ordinary. There's nothing to be remarked upon regarding English specifically.

#linguistics

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naamahdarling · 3 months

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Maybe it isn't that I actually hate medical professionals? They just suck and are weird sometimes, and a lot of them shouldn't be practicing, but I don't hate them as a group, like, personally.

What I hate is their ability to make my life harder in ways that are often completely opaque to me, and a lot of the crap things they do are not really possible to challenge. And I hate the fact that holding them responsible fort dogshit behavior in any way that will actually benefit me is almost always impossible.

And I also hate the fact that they have to do stupid things sometimes because that's how the system is set up, and those things sometimes mean patients actually get harmed. They aren't fond of that part either! They don't want the system to be the way it is! But they don't have a choice, so sometimes people like me get forced by bureaucracy into doing things that are re-traumatizing. And I can't imagine that feels good for them at all, knowing that their patients are sometimes only "consenting" because that bureaucracy will not let them be helped in any other way. Which isn't consent at all. I imagine that must be pretty traumatizing for them, too, sometimes.

If it were easier to actually access medical care without tremendous delays in this country right now I would have much less trouble finding providers who are good at what they do and are not horrible people, and who have clinic staff who can do their fucking job.

Oh and I also don't appreciate how evasive and unwilling to commit they are out of fear of being held to an answer that turns out to be inaccurate, but I can't make an informed decision about my own care unless they give me at least some information about probabilities and trajectories and typicalities. Genuinely, how the fuck am I supposed to navigate that shit. I get that some patients are really fucking difficult, but I should be able to get a special stamp on my file or something that says I understand that sometimes medicine isn't an exact science and the best answers that my doctors can give may not always prove to be accurate in the long term. I know they don't like being in that situation either.

A lot of medical professionals are fucking assholes, and unfortunately the ones who are not are still hamstrung by a system set up to actively prevent people from getting care.

I miss my old doctor. He gave no shits about anything that wasn't the patient. He prescribed scheduled meds based on what the patient needed and not based on fear of consequences potentially being imposed on him by the punitive patient-hostile drugs-are-bad moral panic machine developed to force suffering people into buying more dangerous drugs off the street in order to prevent far fewer people from maybe getting high off of drugs that at least weren't laced with lethal substances. (The purpose of a system is what it does.) Did he get sanctioned and become locally unhireable? Unfortunately yes he did. Does he now provide concierge care to rich people? Yes he does. He found a way to make it work, God bless him.

Everything about the medical system in this country is fucked. Hospitals, doctors, nurses, pharmacies, pharmacists, pharmacy techs, phlebotomists, clinic administrative staff, insurance companies, medical schools and schooling, licensing boards, drug advertising to both providers and patients, pharmaceutical reps, researchers, research, publishing, medical trials, pharmaceutical companies, manufacturers and distributors, medical equipment, charting software, billing and billing codes, diagnostic criteria, charity and low income services, accessible transportation, home care, the lack of independent individual patient advocates, dietitians and nutritionists, access to physical and occupational therapy and physical and occupational therapists, the massive bigotry of every kind rampant in every corner of the medical field, social work, senior care and assisted living, deprioritization of informed consent and harm reduction, disability applications, inaccessibility of medical records, especially psychiatric notes which are specifically allowed to be withheld from patients, lack of continuity of care for disadvantaged people, care that is equitably accessible to disabled people, telemedicine, patient portals, phone systems, clinic hours, every single aspect of inpatient and outpatient psychiatry, facility security, all sorts of things going on with therapists who are nevertheless probably the least malicious group of people in this entire charade, aaaaaand patients themselves.

Also hospital toilets that are too tall and make it literally physically impossible for me to poop while I'm there waiting for somebody to come out of surgery. I just needed to take a crap, guys. You didn't need to make the toilets so tall that my feet didn't even touch the floor. It is very clean but there is no shitting for short people at St Francis.

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kokoch4n3l · 1 month

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'•.¸♡BUY ME THE MOON࿐ྂ SANO "MIKEY" MANJIRO x f!READER

FOUR — i fall to pieces

chapter summary: You begin to unravel the truth behind your father's election victory, uncovering the extent of Manjiro's influence over not just the underworld, but the country itself. Kakucho does damage control.

chapter warnings: dark content 18+, inaccurate depiction of politics and political climate, corruption, bribery, objectification, suggestive themes, kissing, making out, cheating, infidelity, daddy issues, allusions to sex, non-descriptive panic attacks, alcohol use, intoxicated sex, grinding, MAJOR DUBCON, noncon elements, consensual-to-dubcon, cunnilingus, oral(f), spanking(once), squirting, virginity loss, fingering, noncon(?) somnophilia, multiple orgasms, no aftercare, self loathing

word count: 9439

masterlist | previous | chapter 5

You had always been aware your father wasn't a good man. It was just you never truly cared because it didn't affect you. He loved you and you knew it. Sure he couldn't interact with you in public but behind closed doors in the safety of the mansion, he was the best dad anyone could ask for.

You know your dad is involved in some shady shit, you know how much corruption has been done by him and you know how cruel and heartless he was.

Your father was one of the worst men alive and he loved you the most in the world.

"I messed up," Your father says, shifting so he's laying against your pillows next to you "Not really but... Kind of"

It was a bit odd hearing your father admit he messed up but you weren't complaining. "I got a little too greedy and somehow got wound up with Bonten" Shinichi recalls

You nod, processing his words. You always knew your father was involved in shady dealings, but hearing him admit to getting entangled with Bonten felt like a different level of danger. You lie down beside him, the intimacy of the moment contrasting sharply with the gravity of his confession. "What happened?" you ask softly, your curiosity piqued.

Shinichi sighs deeply, staring up at the ceiling as if replaying the events in his mind. "It started with a business deal," he begins. "I saw an opportunity to expand my influence, to solidify my power. Bonten was already a significant player in the underground world, and aligning with them seemed like a smart move."

You listen intently, your heart pounding as he continues. "At first, it was just about money and power," Shinichi explains, his voice tinged with regret. "But things quickly escalated. Bonten doesn't operate by the same rules as everyone else. Their methods are... ruthless. And once you're in, there's no easy way out."

You shiver at the thought, understanding the implications. "So, they found out about me because of your involvement with them?" you ask, seeking clarity.

Shinichi nods. "Yes. I tried to keep you hidden, to protect you from that world. But somehow, they found out. I underestimated their reach, and their ability to dig up secrets... They showed me a picture of you at your high school graduation and I freaked out and gave in."

A silence falls between you, the weight of his confession settling in. Despite everything, you can't help but feel a deep sense of love and protectiveness from your father. He had made mistakes, but his intentions were always to keep you safe. "Dad," you say softly, breaking the silence. "What do we do now?"

Shinichi turns to look at you, his eyes filled with determination. "We stay cautious," he replies firmly. "We keep a low profile and try to maintain the facade of normalcy. And most importantly, we stay together. I'll protect you, no matter what."

You nod, feeling a sense of resolve settle over you. Despite the danger and uncertainty, you trust your father. He may be flawed, but his love for you is unwavering. "Okay," you say, your voice steady. "But you're also the literal president now so... Are they holding me against you? Like are they saying they will reveal my existence to the public if you do something they don't like or don't play by their rules?"

Shinichi's face darkens slightly at your question, his eyes narrowing as he considers his response. "It's more complicated than that," he says slowly, his voice tinged with frustration. "They haven't directly threatened to reveal your existence or well... Kill you... but their influence is pervasive. They're like a shadow that hangs over everything I do, a constant reminder of the cost of my ambition."

You feel a chill run down your spine at his words. The realization that Bonten's reach extends even into the highest echelons of power is both terrifying and sobering. "So, what do we do?" you ask again, your voice trembling slightly despite your best efforts to stay composed.

Shinichi sighs deeply, his expression softening as he looks at you. "We play their game," he says quietly. "But we do it on our terms. I need to keep up appearances and maintain the facade of cooperation while finding ways to undermine their influence."

You gaze at him for a moment. You think about Manjiro when you first met him then the second time in the noodle shop and the whole 'incident' in his backseat then the 'thing' that happened in your room earlier when he was here. You can't help but wonder if Manjiro is using you to gain the upper hand over your father. To purposely make you feel things for him so he can dangle your heart over your father's head. It was a little sick to think about and even made you feel stupid for fantasizing about him for a whole month then let him right back in your room and between your legs. You try to shake off the unsettling thoughts, focusing instead on the immediate conversation with your father. "How can I help?" you ask, determined to be part of the solution rather than a passive victim.

Shinichi looks at you with a mix of pride and concern. "Just be yourself," he says gently. "Continue living your life as normally as possible. Your innocence is your greatest asset right now. If they think you're unaware of their games, they'll underestimate you, and that gives us an advantage."

You nod, understanding the strategy but feeling a twinge of guilt at the idea of pretending ignorance. "And what about Manjiro?" you ask cautiously, your voice betraying the conflicted emotions you feel toward him. "Is he...using me?"

Shinichi's eyes narrow slightly, a flicker of anger crossing his face. "Manjiro Sano is a complicated man," he admits. "He's ruthless and ambitious, but he's also capable of loyalty and genuine emotions. It's hard to say where his true intentions lie."

You bite your lip, feeling a knot of anxiety in your stomach. "Dad... What were they burning in the backyard the night of the election?"

Shinichi sucks in a breath and says "Ballots"

You stare at your father, your mind racing as you process his words. "Ballots?" you repeat, your voice barely above a whisper.

The implications of his confession weigh heavily on you. Shinichi nods, his expression grim. "Yes, ballots," he confirms. "There were irregularities, and we couldn't afford for them to be discovered. The stakes were too high."

The room feels colder, the air thick with the gravity of his admission. You realize now just how deeply your father's corruption runs, how far he's willing to go to maintain his power. The image of the loving father who always protected you clashes violently with the ruthless politician willing to destroy evidence to secure his position. To make things even worse he hadn't even actually won. Saimori Shinichi cheated and it wasn't just an everyday game. It was the fucking presidential election. "But... Dad," you stammer, trying to reconcile the man before you with the actions he's confessed to. "What if someone finds out? What if they use this against you?"

Shinichi sighs deeply, rubbing his temples as if trying to ward off a headache. "That's why we need to be even more careful," he says. "We can't afford any mistakes. We need to keep up appearances, and we need to make sure Bonten doesn't have any more leverage over us than they already do."

You nod slowly, the weight of your father's world settling on your shoulders. "I understand," you say quietly, though the words feel hollow. "I'll do my best."

Shinichi reaches out and takes your hand, his grip firm but comforting. "I know you will," he says softly. "And I'll do everything in my power to keep you safe. No matter what happens, remember that."

You nod again, squeezing his hand in return. "I will, Dad."

It's right that moment you decide that if Sano Manjiro is playing you, you'll play him as well.

It takes 2 weeks for you to become somewhat close to the top members of Bonten. Honestly speaking though, you don't see Manjiro as much as you see Kokonoi Hajime, the group's financial adviser. He's in charge of all the money and is one of the main reasons Bonten is so rich. The other executives call him Koko and because you're a brat and could care less about formalities, you call him that too. He doesn't really care about it.

Koko comes over to the mansion a lot, usually with his laptop in tow. He sits in your room at your desk while you idly lay back on your bed and work on your embroidery work which was due soon. Moments with Koko are pretty quiet and it's actually quite nice. You don't feel lonely anymore that was for sure. He doesn't talk much about his past, rather about Bonten itself but all of what he says you have already read about online. One evening, as the sun dips below the horizon, painting your room in shades of orange and pink, Koko looks up from his laptop, breaking the comfortable silence. "You're getting better at that," he remarks, nodding toward your embroidery.

You glance at your work, a delicate pattern of flowers taking shape beneath your fingers. "Thanks," you reply, a small smile tugging at your lips. "It's relaxing."

Koko leans back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head. "I can see why. Sometimes I wish my job was that peaceful."

You chuckle softly, setting your embroidery aside for a moment. "I doubt you would last long in a quiet life, Koko. You seem to thrive on the chaos."

He smirks, conceding your point. "True enough. But still, it's nice to have moments like these. Away from all the noise and the... complications."

You nod in agreement, feeling a pang of longing for simpler times. You saw Koko the most because he mostly worked on his computer. He didn't do 'fieldwork' like the rest of the executives or whatever that meant. Mikey as boss had a bunch of meetings so of course you didn't get to see him as often. It was annoying though. It's kind of like waiting for an item you want to come back in stock. But you don't wait for things. Sano Manjiro is like a pretty design you've reserved for yourself. Or at least, you're attempting to. "Yeah, it's nice. Thanks for keeping me company, Koko."

He waves off your gratitude with a dismissive hand. "Don't mention it. Besides, you're a good distraction from the numbers. And..." he pauses, his expression becoming more serious. "It's good to keep an eye on you."

You raise an eyebrow, curious about the shift in his tone. "Is that really why you're here? To keep an eye on me?"

Koko meets your gaze, his eyes revealing a flicker of something unspoken. "Partly," he admits. "But also because I enjoy our conversations. You're... different from the rest of your... family."

Before you can respond or even internalize his words, the door to your room swings open, and Manjiro steps inside, his presence immediately commanding attention. He looks between you and Koko, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Interrupting something?" he asks his tone light but with an edge of curiosity and something else a little darker

Koko stands, closing his laptop and gathering his things. "Just wrapping up," he replies smoothly. "I'll see you later, princess."

You nod, watching as Koko exits the room, leaving you alone with Manjiro. The air feels charged with unspoken tension, and you can't help but feel a mixture of anticipation and wariness. Manjiro steps closer, his gaze locking onto yours. "You've been busy," he remarks, his voice low and intense. "Making friends with my associates."

You sit up on your bed, the pillows and fluffy white and pink sheets shifting. "'m makin' friends 'Jiro," you reply, the nickname rolling off your tongue smoothly "Is that a problem?"

He chuckles softly, his eyes never leaving yours. "Not at all," he says. "In fact, I think it's quite impressive. But remember, [Y/N]... in this world, everyone has an agenda."

You smile sweetly, masking the turmoil within. You so badly want to ask what he really wants from you but you keep those thoughts to yourself. "I know," you say, remembering your father's words about Manjiro and the rest of Bonten "And I have my own too."

Manjiro's eyes narrow slightly, a glimmer of intrigue dancing in their depths. "Is that so?" he murmurs, stepping even closer until he's mere inches from you. "Then perhaps we should find out just how well our agendas align."

The tension between you crackles like a live wire, and you realize that the game you're playing with Manjiro is far from over—

Before you know it, the fabric you were working the needle into is set aside on your bedside table and you're lowered into your pillows. Manjiro's lips meet yours and you sigh into his mouth, head going fuzzy from just the slightest touch of his lips against yours.

—In fact, it might just be beginning.

You've never actually been to Bonten Headquarters.

You've searched the building up online and found other articles directing you to other businesses they owned and all the shady rumours about them too. The building itself was an imposing structure, a stark contrast to the sleek, modern skyscrapers that surrounded it. It was a fortress of sorts, heavily guarded and shrouded in an air of mystery and danger.

Bonten— led by Sano Manjiro who was rumoured to have led two biker gangs in his youth during the early 2000s. One of the two biker gangs is what turned into what Bonten is today. There is no information available online about any family history except for a younger sister who was murdered in February 2006. Online forums have very differing opinions about Sano. Some say he murdered a bunch of people, others claim he's your typical businessman with a little bit of corruption and tax evasion on the side like any other. There was one thing everyone agreed on though.

Sano Manjiro has never been photographed and even if the press or anyone somehow snaps a picture and uploads it, the picture is gone in seconds. Only a few have even seen Sano's face but everyone can agree that man is handsome. The allure of Sano Manjiro's enigmatic presence only intensifies your determination to unravel his secrets. With every whispered rumour and shadowy detail, you find yourself more entangled in the web of mystery that surrounds him.

It's a brisk afternoon when you finally get your chance to visit Bonten Headquarters. You're driven in a sleek black car, the tinted windows shielding you from prying eyes. As you approach the building, its imposing structure looms over you, a testament to the power and influence of Bonten. You had decided to skip your afternoon classes immediately after Manjiro offered for you to come visit him and he sent you a car after you texted your driver not to come get you from school.

You arrive at the headquarters early in the evening, the building looming over you like a sentinel. It's a stark reminder of the power Bonten holds and the delicate balance you're trying to maintain. The entrance is guarded by several intimidating men in dark suits, their expressions unreadable. Inside, the atmosphere is a blend of modern luxury and old-world opulence. Polished marble floors, sleek metal accents, and expensive artwork line the halls. The air is filled with a sense of purpose, the sound of hushed conversations and the occasional clink of glassware creating a symphony of controlled chaos. The lobby is vast and luxurious, every detail meticulously designed to project wealth and influence. You approach the reception desk, where a stern-looking woman eyes you with suspicion. "I'm here to see Sano Manjiro" you say, your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach.

You're so clearly out of place in your little two-piece outfit you actually made yourself. It was a cream-coloured satin wrap-around skirt and cropped loose-ish satin blouse in the same cream colour with three buttons in the center and bell sleeves you were very proud of making and a ribbon tying your hair back. Unlike the other ladies working here with their sleek black heels, you were wearing off white platform heels with bows on the front and white socks. Needless to say, you were kind of out of place in the professional environment. You fiddle with the necklace Manjiro gifted you as the receptionist looks at you up and down. Part of you wants to snap at her but you also don't blame her. You look like a damn teenager despite being 20 years old. "Mr. Sano doesn't take walk-in appointments." She says in a professional tone

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, maintaining your composure. "I'm not a walk-in," you reply calmly, meeting her gaze. "He invited me."

The receptionist raises an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "And you are?"

Before you could respond someone behind you speaks up and the receptionist straightens her shoulders before bowing. "Hey Kid"

You turn around to see Mochizuki Kanji and a few bodyguards. Mochizuki Kanji, called Mochi by the other executives, is one of the other top eight executives of Bonten. "whatcha' doin' down here? Do you not have a keycard to go up?" He asks

You smile weakly as the attention of the other employees is turned to you. "u-uh no..."

Mochi was an odd person in your opinion. He was super tall, bulky, kind of had anger issues but he was pretty nice to you. He reminded you of this one guard you had at the mansion when you were younger. His intense presence is softened by a kind demeanour when it comes to you, making him one of the few Bonten members you feel relatively at ease with. Mochi looks at the receptionist, who immediately understands the gravity of the situation. "Miss, my apologies," the receptionist says, her tone now deferential. "I'll escort you upstairs immediately."

Mochi shakes his head, waving off her offer. "I'll take her up myself." He gestures for you to follow, and you fall into step beside him, grateful for the intervention.

As you make your way to the elevator, you can't help but notice the curious glances from the other employees. They all have no idea who you are. Online forums say Manjiro does occasionally have women comes to his office or there are women spotted coming to his office but you did not match the description of them. You were an anomaly. Once inside the elevator, Mochi presses the button for the top floor, the penthouse where Manjiro's office is located. "You know," Mochi says, breaking the silence, "it's not every day we get visitors like you. You're special."

You glance up at him, trying to gauge his expression. "Special how?"

Mochi chuckles, a deep, rumbling sound. "Let's just say you're the first girl to get this much attention from Mikey in a long time."

Your heart practically sings at Mochi's revelation. The first girl in a long time? Oh, how you hope Manjiro isn't actually using you. This was all kind of cute and makes you feel like a schoolgirl with a crush. You haven't felt this way since well... Ever. The elevator doors open, and you step out into a lavish hallway. The floors are a rich, dark wood, and the walls are adorned with elegant artwork. It's a stark contrast to the cold, impersonal feel of the lobby. Mochi leads you to a set of double doors at the end of the hall and knocks once before pushing them open. The room you enter is spacious and bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun. Floor-to-ceiling windows offer a breathtaking view of the city skyline. Manjiro is seated behind a massive mahogany desk, his attention fixed on some documents spread out before him. He looks up and you can't help but let your mind wander. "Mochi" Manjiro greets his colleague with no smile, no expression whatsoever

Mochi just grunts before he leaves you alone with Manjiro in his office. Manjiro's black suit jacket is on one of the couches in his office as well as his tie. His silk black dress shirt highlights the muscles you can see ripping beneath his skin and the top few buttons are undone exposing some of his chest. He looks... hot. His white hair is in its usual middle part style, sweeping against his brows and you resist the urge to walk over and brush a strand behind his ear. You internally sigh. He's so pretty. You stand there for a moment, taking in the sight of Manjiro, his intense gaze fixed on you. The office, with its lavish décor and breathtaking view, fades into the background as you focus on the man before you. Manjiro's expression softens slightly as he watches you, a small, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips. "whatcha' standing over there for, sweet girl?" He says then pats his lap "C'mere"

Your heart skips a beat at his invitation, and you hesitate for only a moment before walking towards him. The butterflies in your stomach intensify with each step, the anticipation building as you walk around his large desk. When you reach him, Manjiro's hands rest gently on your waist, guiding you to sit on his lap. His touch is firm yet tender, sending a shiver down your spine. You settle into his lap, your legs draped over one arm of the chair. His hands remain on your waist, holding you securely. The intimacy of the moment is overwhelming, and you find yourself momentarily lost in his dark, enigmatic eyes. Oh gosh, he's so pretty. Manjiro's gaze roams over your face as if memorizing every detail. "You're quite a sight, you know that?" he murmurs, his voice a low, soothing rumble.

You blush, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. "Thank you," you reply softly, your fingers lightly tracing the contours of his chest through his shirt.

"How was your day?" he asks, his voice a low murmur in your ear.

The intimacy of the moment makes your pulse quicken, and you have to remind yourself to breathe. "It was... good," you reply, trying to keep your voice steady.

Manjiro is looking at you in a way that makes heat pool in your lower belly. When he looks away he straightens out your clothes, tugging your satin skirt down your thighs. "I hope you didn't have anything planned for the evening. I know it was very sudden that I asked you to come here" Manjiro says

You feel a rush of warmth at his touch, his hands smoothing down your skirt with care. The sensation sends a tingling thrill through you, and you find yourself leaning slightly into his touch. His proximity, his scent—everything about him envelops you in a heady mix of desire and curiosity. "No, I didn't have any plans," you reply softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I wanted to see you."

Manjiro's lips curl into a knowing smile, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek. "I'm glad you're here," he murmurs, his voice husky. "I've been thinking about you."

Your heart skips a beat at his words, the intensity in his eyes igniting a fire within you. "What have you been thinking about?" you ask, your voice breathless.

He leans closer, his breath ghosting over your lips. "About how much I want to kiss you," he confesses, his voice a seductive murmur.

Before you can respond, he closes the distance between you, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that steals your breath away. His kiss is both gentle and firm, a tantalizing dance of passion and restraint. You melt into him, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. The kiss deepens, becoming a shared moment of longing and desire. When he finally pulls back, you're left breathless, your heart racing. His forehead rests against yours, his hands still gently holding you. "You drive me crazy, you know that?" he murmurs, his voice a low, reverent whisper.

A mix of emotions swirls within you—desire, uncertainty, and a growing sense of attachment. "You... you have that effect on me too," you admit, your voice barely audible.

Manjiro smiles with genuine warmth in his eyes. Something tells you it's been a long time since he's smiled like that. "Good," he says softly, brushing his thumb across your cheek. "I want you to stay."

You nod, unable to resist the pull of his gaze. "I want to stay," you reply, your voice filled with unspoken promises.

He kisses you again, more deeply this time as if sealing an unspoken pact between you. The kiss lingers, a testament to the growing connection between you and Manjiro. In that moment, amidst the opulence of his office and the city lights twinkling outside, you realize that you're no longer just a pawn in a game. You're a player, willingly entangled in a web of desire and ambition. Perhaps beyond helping out your dad, you really did like Manjiro. He's not like how girls online who claim to have met him describe him to be but rather he's a lot better. "let's get these off, hm" Manjiro says and with ease, reaches over to your ankles and undos the buckles of your heels, letting them drop to the floor with a thud.

You feel the cool air against your now bare feet, the sensation grounding you in the reality of the moment. Manjiro's hands linger on your ankles, his touch sending shivers up your spine. His gaze shifts back to your face, and you can see the hunger in his eyes. "You look so much more comfortable now," he murmurs, his hands sliding up your legs to rest on your thighs.

His touch is electrifying, and you feel a surge of desire wash over you. As he pulls you closer, your bodies pressed together, you let out a soft sigh, leaning into his warmth, head on his shoulder. His fingers trace patterns on your thighs, the sensation both soothing and intoxicating. You can feel the tension building between you, a potent mix of anticipation and longing. "I have a meeting soon," he says, his voice tinged with reluctance as he begins to tug the cream-coloured ribbon out of your hair, letting it down. "But I want you to wait for me here. We'll have dinner together afterward."

You smile, feeling a rush of warmth at his words. "I'd like that."

Manjiro ties the ribbon he pulled out of your hair around his wrist. You're about to get off his lap but that's when there is a knock on his door. "Boss" It's Sanzu with the businessmen Bonten was doing a deal with

Manjiro narrows his eyes for a moment then says "Oh wait, the meeting is happening in my office"

That was how you ended up on the floor, sitting by Mikey's legs hiding from the businessmen he was meeting with in his office. The large wooden desk hides you from view. The sound of footsteps and hushed conversations fills the room as the businessmen enter, and you huddle closer to Manjiro's legs, your heart racing. Manjiro's hand rests reassuringly on your head for a brief moment, a silent promise of protection. From your hidden vantage point, you can only catch glimpses of the men's polished shoes as they take their seats in front of Manjiro on the other side of his desk. Their voices are low, carrying an air of authority and urgency. Manjiro's tone shifts, becoming more formal and commanding. "Gentlemen," he begins, "thank you for coming. Let's get down to business."

The meeting unfolds with a meticulous discussion of figures, strategies, and agreements. You can't follow all the specifics, but you can sense the gravity of the topics being discussed. Occasionally, Manjiro's leg brushes against you, a subtle reminder of your presence and his control over the situation. Despite the seriousness of the meeting, you find a strange sense of calm in the small space beneath the desk. It's intimate, almost as if Manjiro is shielding you from the harsh realities of his world. You listen intently, trying to piece together the puzzle of his empire.

Eventually though, very quickly actually, you get bored. Manjiro's fingers are tangled in your hair as you rest your head against his knee. You're doing your best to stay quiet and still, but the boredom begins to weigh on you. The conversation above drones on, punctuated by the occasional clink of glasses or the shuffle of papers. Manjiro's steady presence is your only anchor in the otherwise mundane environment.

As the meeting continues, you start to tune out the specifics, instead focusing on the rhythm of Manjiro's fingers in your hair. The gentle, repetitive motion is soothing, a stark contrast to the intense, business-like atmosphere surrounding you. You glance up occasionally, catching glimpses of Manjiro's serious expression, his eyes sharp and focused. You shift slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position without drawing attention to yourself. Manjiro's hand tightens briefly in your hair, a silent reminder to stay still. You suppress a sigh, resigning yourself to your current situation. So, you pull out your phone instead.

You keep scrolling through your phone, trying to distract yourself from the prolonged meeting. The more you browse, the more you find yourself adding items to your online shopping cart—clothes, accessories, and other small luxuries you've been wanting. Each addition brings a fleeting moment of excitement, though it is quickly overshadowed by the realization that your wallet is out of reach. Lost in the world of online shopping, you momentarily forget your surroundings. The quiet murmur of voices and the occasional clinking of glass continue to provide a background hum to your activity. You feel Manjiro's fingers give your hair a gentle tug, snapping you back to the present. You look up, and although his expression remains composed, there's a hint of amusement in his eyes.

You kind of feel like a little puppy sitting by his legs like this while he pets your head. It feels odd. Despite the oddness, there's a comfort in the moment, a strange blend of intimacy and authority that defines your relationship with Manjiro. You don't really understand exactly what your relationship with him is, but you sure as hell figured out how he wants you to be for him.

Innocent.

Manjiro's fingers continue to weave through your hair, the soft, repetitive motion almost lulling you into a trance. But beneath the gentle caress, there's a tension—a feeling that something more is expected of you. The way he holds you close, the way his eyes darken with every passing second you remain in this submissive position, it all points to a desire for something pure, untouched—innocent.

You shift slightly, trying to ease the growing discomfort in your legs from sitting on the cold floor for so long. His grip tightens in response, not painful, but enough to remind you of his control. You don't need to look up to know he's watching you, waiting for you to make any small move that might betray your thoughts.

Manjiro wants someone innocent. Someone who can be molded, shaped to fit the vision he has in his mind. And you're all too aware that, in his eyes, you're exactly that—his innocent little toy, hidden away from the harsh realities of his world. But beneath his seemingly protective actions, you sense something darker, more possessive. It's as if he's carefully crafted this image of innocence for you to embody, a role you're expected to play to perfection.

You're not naïve. You know that this innocence he craves isn't for your protection—it's for his own twisted satisfaction. The way he watches you, the way he treats you like something delicate, it all hints at his deeper, more sinister intentions. He wants to keep you untainted, not out of care, but because it gives him a certain power, a control that feeds into his darker desires. The thought sends a shiver down your spine, but you don't dare show it. Instead, you play the part, allowing him to see what he wants—a docile, compliant girl who needs his guidance and protection. But deep down, you're wary, cautious of where this path might lead. You've seen glimpses of his world, the ruthless decisions, the calculated moves, and you can't ignore the growing unease in your gut.

His thumb brushes against your cheek, pulling you back into the present. You glance up at him, and for a moment, your eyes meet. There's a flicker of something in his gaze—possessiveness, a hint of something darker that you can't quite place. You force a small smile, pretending not to notice, but your heart beats faster, a silent warning that you're treading dangerous waters.

As the meeting continues, you lean into his touch, playing along with the innocence he so desperately wants from you. But in the back of your mind, you're already planning your next move, wondering how long you can keep up this charade before he sees through it—or worse, before you lose yourself in the role he's cast you in.

The ride back to his penthouse is a blur. Hazy streetlights of orange and red, then bright white lights of the lobby as you make way to the elevator, arm linked with his. You floats through it your heels seemingly not on the tiled floors. You feel kind of... Drunk? Maybe. After the dumb meeting Manjiro coaxed you to drink Whiskey or whatever was in his glass. You had never been able to hold your drink very well. But then again, you never drank much in the first place. You always looked ugly as hell in the morning so why do something that make you look undesireable?

There's something wet on your neck other than the beads of sweat rolling down on your flesh. You try to move your head, but can't move away when something is pulling your hair, baring more skin to the onslaught of bites, marking you. Breaking flesh. Bruising in the indent of teeth that are soothed by open-mouthed kisses and a brush of warm air. You struggle out of the hold, trying to release yourself from Manjiro, an unfamiliar weight that suffocates you. You can't even grasp at who or how, your body lifted like a ragdoll from the ground, your thigh slinging on the Manjiro's arm, the other hoisted up around the man's waist, cupping your ass.

You hitches a breath, whiny and begging please's, when the man grinds the bulge of his cock against you clothed cunt, pushing the smoothness of your silk skirt and the zipper of his tailored trousers digging on your clit, cotton fabric of underwear pushed deeply on your slicked slit, rubbing tight, raw— hears the squelches, of how wet you are as hips keep grinding on. You cry, the inside of your thighs shaking, toes curling inside your heels as your cunt throbs, belly clenching as you feel yourself come. "S-stop," you moan wetly

You find your hands working, clutching fistfuls of hair to tug it away from your wounded neck. Pushing again, you feel your heel-clad feet touch the carpet, the man steadying you with a grasp on your waist. "What's wrong, sweet girl? Did something hurt?" His voice makes you want to cry

It sounds so concerned, so familiarly deep, resonating in your chest and echoing in your ears. Fuck fuck, you're too hyper-aware of your own breathing, the way your chest moves up and down and the way your heart is hammering in your chest. "No—it's just—I... I don't—" you stutter, your next breath faltering to a half-broken sob

You close your eyes, tears prickling at bay, feeling despondent shame when you shouldn't really feel like this, the bubbling anxieties clouding your mind, your rationality. Why does... why do you feel... your emotions are all jumbled in a mess, puzzle pieces thrown out shaken. You didn't know you were sobbing, not until there was a hand gently brushing your hair, and thin yet lean arms wrapping around you. "Shh, it's okay." lean arms wind around you, tethering you in place.

You feel more grounded when a hand snakes around your neck, your thumb tracing the soft lines of your jaw, and the little tremble of your bottom lip. "Breathe for me, baby." Manjiro hushes your cries, the other hand rubbing back and forth on your spine.

You breathe and Manjiro smiles, "That's it, you're doing good."

You feel hot, nuzzling with the hand that cradles his face, tears still clinging to your eyelashes. It's the first time someone calls you good for just breathing properly. Fuck did that make you feel nice. "You okay now?"

You attempted to respond, but only a jumble of incoherent sounds escaped your lips. You flush when you nod, which makes the yakuza boss chuckle. Your lips meet in another kiss, one slower, more tender — a soft press, gentle in the way your lips mould together. You open your eyes when you finally part, the older man plants a quick peck on your forehead, asking, "Are you sure you're doing fine?"

You nod once more which earns you a coo from the man. "Let me hear you, sweet girl..."

"I'm..." You hiccup. "I'm okay now."

Manjiro smiles, you can't quite see it, but it's there. Then he kneels down, palming your thighs. "Can you still give me a taste?"

You didn't hesitate to nod, a soft yeah repeating on your lips as the older man strips you of your lace panties, sliding them down your legs. Leaning against the wall, half plastered and half being carried, your thighs are spread once more, Manjiro lifting one thigh over his shoulder. You try to remember just how you ended up at Manjiro's penthouse. You remember your father's words of being careful around him but you should have thought of that when you drank out of Manjiro's glass. Eventually, the older man lifts you up a bit so he can kneel properly. "You're so wet," he breathes out.

A palm massaging the underside of your thigh, fingers lining around the edges of your skirt, damp with your own slick and your come. Manjiro's slight stubble is rough against your skin, chafing your skin. He kisses your cunt like how he marks you. Hungered and wanton, swallowing you. When the man pulled back a bit, you bit the inside of you cheek, another strained moan bouncing on the walls. Manjiro's head disappears under your skirt. The noises are much filthier when thumbs spread your lips apart, and it didn't take another long second before Manjiro took another peck on your pelvis, underneath your belly button. A quick kiss like he did with your forehead. It did something to you, the tenderness before the dive before the man wolfs you with his mouth. "What a pretty cunt you have, sweet girl. Seen it so many times but still can't get enough"

Manjiro eats you as if you're an oasis, and he is dehydrated. He sucks on your clit, pressing hard, using his tongue in ways that you didn't know existed. You squeeze your thighs shut around his head, but Manjiro grunts, a slap on your ass as a warning, before it wraps around you, bruising on your waist as your feet lift from the ground and he pervades your insides, thrusting in and out of your hole, humming like you're a treat to be savoured. "P-Please, I can't, you need to..." Your hand clenching over Manjiro's hair the other somewhere beside you, trying to grasp the wall.

You didn't know how many minutes had passed by, the clock in front of you blurring. Pussy dripping over your thighs, to the line of your butt— you feel your belly tightening, that familiar edge that you lines over— until your body is pulled taut, back arching off the wall when you reach another peak, squirting all over the man's face. Manjiro's mouth stayed on your mound, overwhelming you with sensations that borderlines sharp and hurtful. Marking his way up on the insides of your thighs, trailing kisses before digging his teeth and that made you wail. "You okay?" Manjiro asks as he pulls himself from your cunt, rubbing circles with his thumb on your thigh, slick shiny on his chin.

You can only hum in response, hugging Manjiro as he stands up. Manjiro moves again, your body was all boneless and heavy-limp as he carries you over. You bounce on the bed, another breath catching in your throat as Manjiro kisses you, tasting yourself— salty, musky and a tinged bit of sweet. You don't like the taste, but you like how it's being forced to linger on your tongue as Manjiro invades your mouth. Before you know it, your top is being pulled enough for the man to tug down your bra and latch onto your nipple, sinking his teeth around it. The other is being pulled and played with. Another assault on your torso, lines and patterns of marks, of mouth sucking in flesh, painting it red— and you moan through it all. "Look at you," Manjiro says. "You're made for this."

Then there's a finger sinking inside you, then another, rubbing over you, scissoring you open... something metal getting caught in your hole, smoother than the callouses— a ring. It kind of hurts and you want him to take it off but all the words are stuck in your throat. The simple ring makes you feel a little sick all of a sudden. It's on the left hand of his ring finger. What? "... so good for me." Another bite, another deep indent on skin

Manjiro sits up, palming himself. You hear the rustle of clothes and a zipper opening. Your thighs are pried open, hands smoothing on your sides, making you subdued.

Then there's something sliding on the line of your pussy, wet noises slicking. Then you're being broken in, a hole too small for something too big. You're too shocked to even let out anything, let alone scream as your mouth opens wide for just silence. You couldn't breathe, couldn't place yourself if this is real. If the pain is just a fever dream, a memory not true— You're a virgin, Manjiro isn't. This is your first — the stretch, the pain, the reassurance that you need as Manjiro brushes your hair away from your face. It's too much. "Breathe, sweet girl... you're clenching me so tight."

Manjiro works inside you slowly, achingly. The expanse of your hole, knees shaking with each slow push. You couldn't even flutter your hole for how stretched you are, how wide you must be gaping to accommodate something that huge, that thick. Your crop top clings around your neck, nipples still pebbled in the heated air. You find your voice again, gasping in between, "Ngh... g-gentle, please."

"Of course, sweet girl." A promise, a tell-tale sign that you could trust him, that you could let go — then you arch again when Manjiro buries himself entirely, a brutal thrust that makes you completely forget about the ring on his left ring finger

You feel like your insides are being rearranged as Manjiro penetrates you, then pulls himself into a rhythm you don't know. It's like something inside you is getting caught that it goes with the man's cock, pulling outside of your cunt—

Your nipple is getting abused, Manjiro's mouth biting again—

Thrusting in then out until you climaxed again and you don't want anything inside you anymore because it hurts, you can't keep going—

It keeps going... and you must have said stop a lot of times—

"You won't leave me, right, baby?" Then your body flips over, your stomach on the sheets— "You're mine to play with— mine to fuck—"

You can only cry in response.

(You wake up, face pressed flush on the pillow, with your body rocking back and forth. Eyelids fluttering open, drool cascading down your cheek and chin. The pillow is wet, not damp, soaking through the cotton along with the warm sweat. Sleep clings to your brain, head heady as your body steadily moves against the sheet by another body on top of you.

A familiar weight, heavy and too hot that Manjiro's sweat sticks against the friction. Rough breaths and grunts blow right above your head. You feel full, a pressure in your belly, something moving inside you too deep, too big. The painful stretch is back, sliding slowly in and out. Feels like minutes, hours, hooking in something that makes you jolt, a kiss on your cervix that makes you cry. That dread that pools inside your womb, the abuse of your cunt breaking into the shape of Manjiro's cock—

Manjiro shushes you, trying to calm the raging beats of your heart as you choke on your whimpers, sobbing as your cunt quivers. Your hands grip the sheets, toes pointing, and you're too tired to fight, too tired to say stop when pleasure brings you to orgasm again and again, until you hear a murmur, a vibration on your back, and a kiss on your temple—

Such a good girl — another grinding thrust, another pressure inside your cunt and you feel full again—

—a good girl only for me. )

You wake up, eyes blurring and your head feeling like it was splitting open. Blinking your eyes open, you watch the blur clear into an unfamiliar ceiling. Too plain, devoid of your white canopy and crown moulding around the perimeter and the chandelier you have up in your room. You close your eyes, not thinking about anything because of your headache but then you feel it— the pain all over your body, fragments of what you did the night before comes rushing back, causing your head to ache even more.

Then, you look beside you and realize the space in the bed is empty and cold. You make attempts to move, curling upwards to sit— but fuck, it hurts. Everything really, really hurts. The pain radiates through your body, each movement reminding you of the events from the night before. The sheets feel rough against your skin, foreign, and you can't shake the feeling of wrongness that clings to you like a second skin. As you manage to sit up, you wince, every inch of you protesting the motion. The room spins slightly, your headache intensifying, but it's nothing compared to the heaviness in your chest.

Manjiro’s penthouse is silent, save for the distant hum of the city outside. The space beside you is cold, the imprint of his body long gone. Your heart sinks as you realize that you're alone. You glance around, the stark, minimalistic decor of his room adding to the emptiness you feel inside. It’s nothing like the romantic scenes you once imagined—soft sheets, warm bodies entwined in mutual affection. No, this is far from what you fantasized your first time would be like.

You wrap the sheet around your body, trying to cover yourself, as if that could shield you from the raw reality of what just happened. The events of the night flood your mind in disjointed flashes—Manjiro’s rough hands on your skin, the way he moved, the sensation of being overpowered. It wasn’t what you wanted, not really. You had hoped for something gentle, something meaningful. But what you got was far from it.

Self-loathing begins to settle in, heavy and suffocating. You can’t help but think that this is your fault. You let it happen. You let him take you in a moment of weakness, of misplaced trust. And now, the aftermath is like a stain you can’t wash away, a mark on your soul that you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to erase. The way he treated you, so rough, so careless—it makes you feel small, used, and insignificant.

Tears prick at your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. You knew what you were getting into when you got involved with Manjiro, or at least you thought you did. But the reality is so much harsher than you could have ever imagined. You wanted to be close to him, to be someone he cherished, but now you’re not even sure what you are to him. A plaything? A distraction? The thought twists in your gut, making you feel even more hollow.

You glance down at yourself, at the bruises forming on your skin, evidence of the roughness you endured. It makes you sick to your stomach. You feel dirty and tainted as if his touch has left a permanent mark on you that you’ll never be able to scrub away. You wanted your first time to be special, to be with someone who loved you, but all you’re left with is this—an empty bed in an unfamiliar room and a deep, gnawing regret. You were a rich kid but you were also hidden away. You can have secret affairs like the ones in the movies. You thought this would be exactly that. A steamy but love filled passionate encounter and you'd wake up next to him giggling like a child while he smothers your face with kisses and asks if you're hungry.

But no.

Manjiro is not here.

The silence in the penthouse is deafening, amplifying the echo of your self-loathing. You feel like a stain, something ugly and unwanted. No matter how much you try to rationalize it, to tell yourself that this is what you chose, the reality is that you feel broken. You curl into yourself, hugging your knees to your chest, trying to find some comfort in the small space you occupy, but it does nothing to ease the pain, both physical and emotional.

The fantasy you once had of love, of intimacy, has been shattered, replaced by this cold, empty reality. There is a knock on the door and for a moment you hope it's Manjiro but why would he knock on his own bedroom door? In enters Kakucho instead. He's holding a bag and has a small smile on his face. "hey sweetheart" he enters cautiously, like you’re a hurt child

Kakucho closes the door behind him and sits down in front of you, cups your cheek and kisses your temple like a child too. He's treating you like a child and it's on purpose. Kakucho’s gentle touch feels like a stark contrast to everything you’ve just been through. His presence, so calm and tender, makes your chest ache even more. You can see it in his eyes—he knows. He knows what happened, and the way he’s treating you only deepens your sense of shame. It’s like he’s confirming what you already fear: that you’re broken, something to be pitied. “Hey, sweetheart,” he says again, his voice soft, almost as if he’s afraid you’ll shatter if he speaks any louder.

His hand lingers on your cheek, warm and steady, a grounding touch that you desperately want to lean into but can't. The small smile he gives you is meant to be comforting, but it only makes you feel more fragile. Kakucho was here to be damage control probably. For what? For Manjiro leaving? Maybe. You don't know, you don't care. You just wanted Manjiro here in the morning with you. It wasn't like you were asking him to buy you the moon. You just wanted him to stay and you thought that would be given considering he took your virginity but apparently not. You had been at his office sitting at his feet like a puppy, then in his lap drinking out of a crystal cup then underneath him like a damn whore.

You try to speak, but the words catch in your throat, strangled by the lump of emotions that refuses to let you breathe. Kakucho doesn’t push; he just waits, his presence a silent reassurance that he’s here for you. But it’s not what you want. You don’t want to be coddled, to be treated like a child who doesn’t understand what’s happening. You want to be strong, to brush off the pain and the disappointment, but you can’t. Not with the way he’s looking at you, not with the way he’s making it clear that he sees you as something that needs to be taken care of. Kakucho places the bag down beside him, but you barely notice. Your mind is too tangled in the mess of feelings swirling inside you. He shifts closer, pulling you into a soft embrace. The warmth of his body against yours should be comforting, but instead, it only serves as a reminder of what you didn’t get—what you thought you would have with Manjiro. “It's okay,” Kakucho whispers, his breath warm against your ear. “I’m here.”

His words should be a balm, but they only deepen the wound. You don’t want him to be here. You want Manjiro. You want the version of him you built up in your head, the one who would have held you afterward, who would have made you feel loved, wanted, and cherished. But that Manjiro doesn’t exist, and all you have is the cold reality of what happened. Kakucho pulls back slightly, searching your eyes with a look of concern. “I brought you some things,” he says, nodding toward the bag. “Clothes, some painkillers... whatever you need. It's a good thing I know all the products you use, hm? Woke up early to bring 'em all for you”

You glance at the bag, but it feels distant, and unimportant. Everything feels distant. The pain in your body, the bruises, the emptiness inside—they all blend together into a haze that you can’t quite shake off. Kakucho’s kindness, his attempt to care for you, only makes you feel more like a burden, like someone who needs to be fixed. You once again feel like the damn stain Kaya and her mother treat you like. You’re not sure how long you sit there in silence, wrapped in Kakucho’s embrace. Time seems to lose meaning, each second stretching out into an eternity. All you can think about is how you ended up here, in this place, in this situation. The fantasy you had is gone, replaced by the harsh light of reality, and it’s so much worse than you ever imagined. Eventually, Kakucho pulls away, his eyes still filled with that same concern. “You should get cleaned up,” he suggests gently, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “You’ll feel better. Then we'll get some food and I'll take you home”

You nod mechanically, though you don’t really believe him. You don’t think anything will make you feel better. But you force yourself to move, to stand up on shaky legs, to accept the clothes Kakucho offers you from the bag. As you do, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror across the room, and the sight makes you freeze.

You barely recognize the person staring back at you. Your hair is a mess, your eyes red and swollen, and the bruises on your skin stand out like dark, ugly marks against your pale flesh. You look like a ghost, haunted by the memories of the night before, and the sight makes you feel sick all over again. Never in your life have you ever let yourself look like that.

This ugly.

(never will you let yourself look like this again)

Kakucho follows your gaze, and you see the flicker of sadness in his eyes. He knows what you’re seeing, what you’re feeling. But he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he gently guides you toward the bathroom, his hand steady on your back.

You hesitate at the threshold, the thought of being alone with your reflection unbearable. But Kakucho is there, his presence a steady reassurance that you’re not entirely alone, even if it feels that way. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself, and step into the bathroom, closing the door behind you.

As you strip off the sheet and step under the hot spray of the shower, you try to wash away the stains of the night before—the bruises, the memories, the regret. But no matter how hard you scrub, the feeling lingers, a constant reminder that some stains can’t be washed away.

notes: chapter four has finally seen the light of day! I just want to say I accidently wrote the smut in third pov while imagining someone else as reader so if at any point you come across any terms that describe reader's body, skin, hair, etc. that is not inclusive, please let me know so I can change it :) I edited it the best I could but don't hesitate to lmk.

Also there was going to be a Kaya appearance in this chapter but I decided against it. My original intention with this series has changes btw but the ending will still be somewhat the same.

anyways,,, no aftercare on screen from Manjiro but kind of aftercare from kakucho??? you win some you lose some I guess 🤷‍♀️ I listened to Cherry by Lana Del Ray while writing the smut scene and the whole thing with Kakucho. I would apologize for the shitty pacing of this chapter but honestly, I could care less. I know most of it is pretty vague but then again, are you ever actually aware of your surroundings or what is going on when your heart is being torn apart?

I hope you enjoyed this chapter :)

likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated <3

taglist: @m-ilkiee @reiners-milkbiddies @short-cxke @brisssaaa009 @tenjikusstuff4 @asirensrage @fushiquro @iwasei @kiwixpi @mysouleaten @luminouslaybyrinth @merrymerrykiss @maraya-007 @dolfiins-art @yuyu12mm @kodzubaby @zantetsuwu @hayatisyourlife @bachiraslvr @bontensbabygirl @intheafterall @otakugurl2099 @kawaiikoalagarden @killcxm @kannaaa015 @forestycore @waterfal-ling

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bruhnze · 2 months

Text

Remember when i dressed up as a cop - Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Summary: kinda just plotless smut.. well a bit of plot, Ona thinks Lucy's new title is hot af.

Warnings: smut, roleplay, explicit language, minors DNI

Wordcount: 3k

Disclaimer: i don't know anything about doctors, so if this is very inaccurate i'm sorry xx.

Disclaimer 2: this is kinda cringe, atleast it was to write it so it better be enjoyed by atleast one of you!!!

Based on this request , hope it was a bit like you expected.

Remember when i dressed up as a cop.

It was just after the summer, after the busy start of the club seasons, Lucy and Ona had finally found a few days in which they could be together.

Ona had traveled to London and toured Lucy's house the night before but they had been too tired for anything else.

They had fallen asleep completely entangled, but when Ona woke up the bed was empty and she heard Lucy messing around in the kitchen.

Ona wanted to grab a large shirt to wear from Lucy's closet, when she was rummaging around looking for one that she always liked, she saw a framed object in the walk-in closet.

[Oh my god] Ona thought to herself when she saw what it was, the honorable doctorate that Lucy had received [fuck, she hadn't thought about it anymore after the day it had happened, she hadn't been able to go with Lucy that day, so appart from a Insta comment and some private texts there hadn't been much about it]

She chose a different shirt, a big plain white t-shirt and walked to the kitchen.

''Luccee?'' Ona asked in a sweet voice.

"Good morning baby, did you sleep well?" Lucy said as she stood in her boxers and sports bra making breakfast and putting it down on a tray.

''mhmm'' Ona said, looking at Lucy with a mischievous face.

''what? sorry I wasn't in bed, but I actually wanted to surprise you with breakfast in bed.'' Lucy turned around and looked apologetically at her girlfriend.

"Maybe I have a nice way for you to make it up," she said with a cheeky smile.

Only now did the Englishwoman realize what kind of mood Ona had woken up in, she herself had actually been ready to go last night, but she understanded that Ona had been tired from travelling so they had kept it at cuddling.

Lucy grinned and walked towards her, she put her hands under Ona's shirt and pulled her in for a kiss.

After a few seconds of kissing Ona pulled away "no wait''.

Lucy looked surprised ''oh, i thought you wanted''

''Oh yes, i do but I have an idea" Ona iinterupted her with blush creeping up her face ''if your up for it''.

''Im listening'' Lucy grinned.

''well'' ''uhm''

''you can say it babe, i wont laugh'' Lucy said as she looked at Ona encouragingly.

''remember when i dressed up as a cop?'' Ona started.

Lucy's smile and big eyes made Ona laugh ''well we're not going to do exactly that''

The taller woman pouted ''tease'' her eyes grew big again ''wait, you want me to be the cop?''.

Ona chuckled ''well no, the thing is.... you gained a new title recently that inspired me''.

Lucy couldn't immediately understand what One was after.

''I haven't been feeling so good lately'' Ona tried.

Lucy was still looking at her questioning, she felt stupid that she didn't get what Ona meant.

''might need some physical examination doc'' the Catalan wiggled her eyebrows.

''the doctorate?'' Lucy chuckled ''you know it's not like real doctor right?''.

''sshhh'' the shorter woman put her finger on Lucy's lips ''are you up for it or no?''.

''well most certainly, i have to make sure you are allright, that is my professional duty'' the Englishwoman said, immediately stepping into the role, afraid Ona would change her mind.

"Okay, I had an operation yesterday, as a doctor you are going to see how I am doing now, i will see you in a sec." Ona leaned to Lucy's ear ''and docs have clothes on by the way''.

Lucy grinned ''wow, you really thought about it'' ''wait what was the operation''.

Ona thought about it ''uhm i dont know, something minor''.

Lucy laughed ''didn't think it through that thoroughly after all''.

The smaller woman gave Lucy a stern look before heading towards the bedroom.

At the bed, Ona took off her panties and laid down in bed wearing only the large T-shirt.

It took a while for Lucy to come to the bed, when she did Ona looked at what she had put on.

She stood next to her in nice trousers and a white shirt with a large white blouse over it, she had a lanyard around her neck with a card with 'Lucy Bronze' on it, she also had a laptop and a measuring tape.

But the thing Ona liked most were the glasses sitting on Lucy´s face.

Lucy cleared her throat ''hello, miss. Batlle, im doctor Bronze, I did the operation and I am happy to say that it all went very well."

"oh that's good news doctor, you can call me Ona by the way"

''okay Ona, how did you sleep?''

''pretty good actually, the other patiënt in the room wasn't to much of a bother''.

''im glad'' Lucy said as she pretended to type something in her laptop ''mkay, we need to do some postoperative tests, do you think you're ready for that?''

''i'm so ready'' Ona teased with a smirk.

''Good, first some questions, on a scale of 1-10, how much pain are you experiencing right now?''

''uhm 0''

''did the nurse take you of the IV this morning or at night?''

''this morning, a second ago actually''

''understandable, don't forget to keep up with your painkillers now, you take them preventivally for the coming week, if your in pain you took it to late, don't lag behind the facts''

''yes doctor i will''

''good, have you peed yet?''

Ona chuckled ''yeah why?''

"Well, it's a mandatory question after the operation you have had, we need to know whether you experience any problems urinating after the operation."

''okay, uhm no, everything feels pretty okay down under''.

''good, we'll get to that later too''. ''okay, that were my questions, now some inspection, auscultation, percussion and palpation'' Lucy showed off her medical knowledge gained from her own injuries.

''Okay doc, i dont know what that is but i trust you'' Ona was secretly impressed but Lucy took the role a bit too serious for her liking, it was supposed to be a sexy roleplay, not an acting job. She took the covers off of her ''what do you need me to do?''.

''uhm, i need your to turn your back to me please miss. Batlle, uh Ona i mean''.

Ona shuffled in the bed and sat with her back to Lucy.

''oh'' doctor Bronze said ''i don't know what kind of gown they gave you, but this one doesn't have an open back, i need some space for my stethoscope''.

''uhm, i dont know, i woke up in this, i can take it of if that helps''

''that would help Ona, if you don't mind''.

Ona quickly took of the shirt, and sat up on her knees with her feet tucked under her butt, trying to make her behind look good for Lucy.

She felt a hand on her back ''very good Ona, it looks very good''. Lucy pretended to listen to Ona's heart ''heart sounds good and clear, you have a strong heart, your vitals were very good during the operation too, do you work out?''

''yes, i am a football player actually''.

''aha i see, very good, you won't be out of it very long, you can play again in a few weeks''

Ona turned around smiling ''thank you doctor''.

Lucy swallowed hard seeing her girlfriends chest, it felt different in this role, she almost felt like she was the doctor forreal and not her girlfriend. She blushed and looked away ''uhm, if you can step out of the bed we'll do some streching to test your mobility''.

''okay, can i put that gown back on?''

Lucy looked surprised and a bit dissapointed ''uh, yes ofcourse Ona''.

Ona stood up and put the shirt back on.

The English woman pretended to type some more on the laptop for the time it took Ona. ''good, first you have to try to make yourself as tall as possible, arms all the way up, if you feel any pain please tell me''.

Ona stretched, her T-shirt barely covering anything as her arms rose.

''good, if you don't mind i'm going to feel your hips, to check whether the joints are commensurate to each other''.

''okay''

Lucy put her hands on Ona's hips below her shirt, just like she had done earlier in the kitchen, only this time she was not kissing Ona, she wished she was kissing her right now, put she had to stay in her role for a bit longer. ''good that's all good, now please try and touch your toes if you can''.

''mhm, i can''.

''Okay Ona, i'll step behind you, take a look at your hamstrings allright?''

''yup'' Ona muttered while bending down, she cheekily pulled her shirt along so that her ass was completely exposed.

Lucy couldn't keep the low moan from coming out of her throat [damn] she thought [fuck i've missed this ass].

Lucy gently let her hands travel over her girlfriends ass.

The Spaniard smirked to herself, feeling the older woman appreciate her body, she wiggled her butt a little, trying to get more of a reaction.

Lucy spoke in a low voice ''fuck Ona'' her thumbs now grazing the line where Ona's butt conected to her thighs.

The taller woman kneeled down and kissed Ona´s hamstrings softly, she littered kisses all the way up to her butt.

Ona had trouble standing so long in the position she was in so she set a step forward and leaned on the bed.

Lucy stood back up and let her hands travel under the shirt that was already hitched up anyways, and felt Ona´s back muscles. ''your muscles are in great condition''.

Now the English woman was at Ona's shoulders making her front press against the Spaniards behind.

Ona stiffend [fuck did she really feel that] she wiggled a bit more to confirm her thoughts.

Lucy chuckled at Ona discovering the strap she had put on earlier.

Ona couldn't believe how long this was taking and almost regretted suggesting this, she missed having sex with Lucy and it had been way too long for her liking. And feeling the thing Lucy was wearing didn't help with that.

After a bit more feeling Ona up Lucy spoke again ''please lay on your back for me'' she said in a serious tone.

The Catalan listened hastily and quickly turned over, and now laid on her back, legs still over the bed.

''How do your groins feel?''

Ona blushed, she was a bit embarrassed to open up her legs knowing she was dripping wet.

''Ona?''

''uhm yeah, they feel fine''

Lucy chuckled ''can i take a look to confirm?''

''yeah'' Ona parted her legs slightly, only to be 'helped' by doctor Bronze, pulling them further apart.

The taller woman groaned as she let her thumbs glissade along Ona's inner thighs all the way up to her groins.

''okay looks good but i think were dealing with an unusual case here''

''unusual?''

''yeah, your lower region looks to be very .. uhm .. wet''.

Ona blushed ''Luce'' she said in a whiny voice as she pushed the woman away.

Lucy smirked ''doctor Bronze please, and if your up for it i would like to study this closer, i really haven't seen anything like it before, does this happen more often?''.

The Catalan rolled her eyes but thought about an answer ''uhm, well, i have never had a hot doctor''.

''oh''

''yeah''

''would you prefer another doctor?''

''uhm, no.. i think you can help me best''.

''okay, well, i'll need to study it a bit closer''

Ona nodded eagerly, her core was begging to be touched.

Lucy didn't waste time, she went straight for Ona's centre, lapping at the wetness that wass collected there ''fuck Ona i missed your taste so much''.

The shorter woman moaned, she couldn't even make a joke about how Lucy was supposed to be a doctor, instead she went for ''fuck doc, i missed you too''.

The English woman's head was bobbing frantically between Ona's legs, she took off her glasses for better access and laid them on the bedside table all while continuing to eat her girlfriend out, she had thought about this about a million times when they'd been apart so she wasn't about to waste a second of it.

''fuck'' Ona muttered as she gripped at Lucy's hair ''im so-

Lucy hummed and continued at the same pace, wanting her to come.

With a few more seconds Ona reached her climax, she dropped her head back on the mattress ''fuck i've missed you''.

After Lucy had cleaned her up she craweled over Ona, coming up to kiss her ''i've missed you too''

They shared a kiss, Ona loved tasting herself on Lucy's tongue, she had really missed this.

''em fas correr millor'' (you make me cum best).

Lucy laughed ''this was just a warm up baby''

''i know, but even that is wayy better than when i do it myself''

''do you now''

''what''

''know that this was just a preview''

Ona smirked ''yeah, i know what your capable of and i know what you're wearing''.

''i was just wearing that as an accessoire''.

''so you don't want to use it on me?''

''fuck'' Lucy gulped ''yeah i do''

''get undressed then''

Lucy laughed ''patient is not so patient it seems, might have to write that down''.

''Shut up, get naked and put those glasses back on''.

Lucy shot one eyebrow up, questioning Ona ''someone's got a thing for my glasses?''

Ona blushed ''yeah i just rediscovered it, totally forgot about those''.

The taller woman smirked as she stood up ''Well then I'll put them on for you, and you take of that shirt please, where did you even get that?''.

''in your closet, well i first wanted to take another shirt but then i saw that doctorate and then i thought about you as a doctor'' Ona stopped talking, looking at her girlfriend undress.

''And now we're here'' Lucy finished for her laughingly.

''you're not complaining are you?''

''no, not at all, anything but''

''good''

''still need you to take it of tho''

Ona stood up from the bed, facing the now naked Lucy, who was only wearing her strap and glasses now. ''you take it off''.

''because you ask so nicely'' Lucy joked as she slowly took Ona shirt off ''you just want me touching you'' she concluded as she felt Ona shiver below her touch.

Ona chuckled ''well you certainly have the brains to be a doctor''.

''how bold we are today, might wanna shut up before I bend you over that bed again''.

The Catalan blushed "Well, if it's doctor's orders."

Lucy gulped ''yeah it is''. Ona didn't even wait for Lucy to say that but turned around for the bed, she didn't lean on the bed like earlier, instead she kneeled on the bed and arched her back.

´´fuck, you know you look good huh´´

Ona didn´t reply, she only pushed herself more towards Lucy.

Lucy slowly rubbed the strap along Ona´s wet slit. ´´teasing me with all those pictures´´ when she had gathered enough wetness on the fake cock she lined up with Ona´s enterance ´´posting all those thirsttraps on Insta´´ she kneeded the flesh of Ona´s butt ´´you know you make me crazy´´.

´´fuck Lucy please´´ Ona pleaded as she tried to wiggle backwards, only to be restricted by Lucy´s hands.

Lucy chuckled ´´yeah what do you want´´.

´´fuck me luce´´

´´who´´

Ona gulped ´´fuck me doctor´´. ´´please´´.

´´that´s right´´ Lucy groaned as she slowly pushed inside.

The Catalan dropped her head on her forearms, finally feeling Lucy inside her, something she had been thinking, and even dreaming, about for weeks.

Lucy slapped Ona´s ass, the loud sound filled the room. Ona arched even more, Lucy knew her girlfriend liked it a little rough.

As she came to a steady pace, positioning herself so that she hit all Ona´s spots just like she knew made her feel good, she reached out for Ona´s neck.

Lucy gripped her neck thightly with her hand, the other one still on the shorter womans hip.

Ona moaned as she began to shake on her knees ´´i cant, i´m-

''You can cum baby, come for me'' Lucy cooed as while she picked up Ona so that she didn't fall.

Sounds muffled by the mattress left Ona's throat as she came undone.

Lucy slowly dropped her on the bed and gently pulled out, leaving a couple of kisses on Ona's back.

When Ona kept laying like that, in a position that couldn't possiblely look comfortable, as Lucy thought, she carefully put Ona on her back and scooted her over to the middle of the bed.

''you good?'' Lucy chuckled.

''fuck Lucy, so good''.

''i love you''

''i love you too''.

''we can we can live out all your fantasies today'' Lucy said as she leaned in to kiss her girlfriend.

Ona smiled ''do you know why i didn't like you saying miss. Batlle''

Lucy frowned ''what''

''when you were the doctor, i said you had to call me Ona''

''yeah''

''because i'd prefer another last name''.

---

THE END :)

#lucy bronze smut #woso smut #lucy bronze #woso fanfics #lucy bronze x ona batlle #ona batlle smut #lucy bronze x reader #woso imagine #woso #ona batlle

161 notes · View notes

miuszn · 1 year

Note

i’m actually so obsessed with your bouncer!ellie.. we need a fic immediately 🤭 -🪐

taste of lust

SETTING : modern au

WC : 5011

WARNINGS : sexual harassment ( nothing graphic ) ( but reader is sort of implied to have trauma related to it , nothing stated explicitly tho ) , bouncer!ellie x bottlegirl!reader , idk shit about clubs so like some stuff might be insanely inaccurate but i did my best to research ( sorry in advance ) , dash of dealer!ellie bc who doesn’t love her , dom!ellie , sub!reader , teasing , overstimulation if u squint , ellie calls u pretty girl & princess , readers first time with a strap , ellie refers to her strap as her cock , i’m not fluent in english yet so there might be mistakes , not beta read

A / N : hello everyoneeee !!! i know this took FOREVER to finish and i’m so sorry about that .. i’ve been super super busy and this fic was so long omg T_T there was a point i started over completely bc i didn’t like the direction it was heading to .. this fanfic shit gets serious truly . in case u missed the warning there is sexual harassment in this fic and reader is implied to have trauma related to it . putting this here again to make sure u guys see it . anyway , i took so long to post this and so much stuff happened !! but alas , it is here , the bottlegirl!reader and bouncer!ellie fic !! this is my fav fic of mine so far so i hope u guys enjoy reading this as much as i liked writing it <3 ( and yes there will be a part two !! )

— 𓆩♥︎𓆪 —

being a bottle girl wasn’t exactly the job of your dreams. having to deal with creepy rich men every friday and saturday night was definitely not something you enjoyed doing, but that was what paid the bills and allowed you to live a rather comfy lifestyle for a college student. the bad part no one tells you about going to a top college on a full-ride scholarship is that a lot of the students are rich kids who most definitely cheated their way through high school, who live in nice apartments paid for by their mommy and daddy, who use birkins and other designer brand bags as their school bags, who would never be caught dead eating at the cafeteria. of course, you felt out of place. you weren’t exactly poor, but your family definitely could never afford that kind of lifestyle.

you’re pretty. extremely pretty. and you knew you could use that to your advantage. so when you saw a new club in the city that was looking for bottle girls you immediately knew you had to apply. sure, you had to deal with a couple creepy customers every night and sometimes even had to remind them they’re not allowed to touch you, which was annoying. you also hated being seen as an object, and you knew that’s exactly how these men saw you, and what was even worse was those very unsettling “you remind me of my daughter” comments from older men since you were so young. but the money was the main thing you needed, and you were able to put up with all this because of the pay. although the salary itself is just enough to survive, most of your earnings were in tips, and you made good tips. with a little bit of flirting and pretending you were really into customers, you scored lots of tips in the hundreds and sometimes even thousands. that wasn’t really enough for you to be able to afford luxury items whenever you wanted, but you were able to treat yourself every once in a while and that was enough for you.

you and your coworker ellie are the only college students that worked at that club. she wasn’t a bottle girl, however, she was a bouncer. during busy nights the bouncers typically took turns being at the door, and the rest would be inside the club making sure everything was fine. she didn’t mind being inside, it meant she could steal glances at you. truth was, she was into you, and it was obvious. but you took it as her just wanting to get a reaction out of you. that’s what it seemed like. but you can’t lie, whenever she wasn’t looking, you’d stare back as discreetly as you could.

she was a little possessive over you, which you weren’t really aware of. whenever she saw you flirting with customers, she couldn’t deny she felt a little jealous. she of course knew you were just trying to get more tips. regardless, she still couldn’t stand seeing the way you twirled your hair, spoke in that sweet and flirty tone, and even sometimes gave them compliments, and the fact it wasn’t towards her. she wanted it to be her, and her only. she wanted you to be hers. but she never did anything aside from flirt with you a little every once in a while, because she was scared she’d make you uncomfortable.

ellie. where does one even begin to describe her? her strong arms, her short auburn hair she styled as a mullet or put in a half bun when she felt a little lazier, her mesmerizing green eyes. from the moment you laid eyes on her you found her extremely attractive, but you were too shy and didn’t know how to approach her. what’s funny is this is the total opposite of the character you put up for your customers, an extroverted, flirty girl. the thing with you is, you can flirt with people, but only when you’re not attracted to them. when you are, such as in cases like these, the main thing you do is avoid avoid avoid. you rarely had the opportunity to interact with each other, but when you did, you always felt she was trying to subtly flirt with you. it was the kind of flirting where it was hard to tell wether she was flirting with you or just being nice, so you simply took it as being nice because you didn’t think there was any possibility she could be into you. she was just out of your league. even if it was flirting, you didn’t know if she had any other intentions. so you decided to play it safe.

that night was different from the others. your boss informed you that there’d be a bachelor party tonight and surprise surprise, you’d be serving them. the thing about bachelor parties is they’re very demanding and their tips can vary a lot. and demanding in your vocabulary is basically a synonym for entitled. they’ll insist you sit down, have a drink with them, maybe even try to grope you or something. you were not happy about having to deal with them tonight, but your boss told you they were short-staffed tonight, so you’d simply have to suck it up.

the moment the group of about 15 men came in, ellie sensed something was wrong. she rejected about half of them at the entrance before being informed by her supervisor that it was a bachelor party. she didn’t really care. she knew they were up to no good.

“i really don’t think we should let ‘em in.” she crossed her arms.

“any good reason?” he asked, annoyed.

“something just feels.. off,” she whispered, “i dunno. feel like they’re up to no good.”

“i don’t pay you to do ‘vibe checks’ on people.”

“i still don’t think we should let ‘em in. feels like they have bad intentions. have you seen how they’ve been eyeing the rest of the female staff?”

“big deal, this is a night club,” he brushed her off. “that’s how men look at women in nightclubs, williams. suck it up.”

“that still doesn’t-“

“do you want to keep your job or not?” he snapped.

she sighed and rolled her eyes, defeated, and hesitantly let the group in. her eyes were glued on them until they sat down at a table, the feeling in her stomach worsening when she realized you’d be dealing with them. it was one thing for any of the other girls to have to deal with them, but for some reason, she found herself way more worried about you. you were newer to the job and a little younger than the other girls. she couldn’t bear the thought of someone possibly harming you, or taking advantage of you, or anything like that. she felt this strange desire to protect you, something she hadn’t really felt towards anyone before. she felt this way toward you, yet she barely knew anything about you.

— 𓆩♥︎𓆪 —

tonight was going to be a long night. the moment those men sat down, you could immediately tell. you could tell by their piercing gazes, which you swore you could physically feel even though you weren’t looking at them, that you’d have to remind them several times they can look but not touch. you heard them whispering stuff to each other while looking at you and then laughing and hitting each other as if they were a group of teenagers. you took a deep breath, put on a smile, and finally went over to their table.

“hey boys,” you greeted with a flirty tone, “anything i can get you guys today?”

“yeah, a piece of that ass.” one of them said, while the rest laughed.

you faked a giggle, trying to do your best to handle this professionally, as you would with all the other annoying customers.

“anyway,” you continued, “do you guys have anything in mind? if not, you can take a look at the stuff we have over there at the bar.” you said, while pointing at the bar.

“we’ll need a moment, babygirl.” one of them replied, holding out his credit card.

you nodded, took the card, and quickly walked away. you absolutely hated that nickname. before you took this job, you didn’t really mind it. but when you started getting called it by basically every single customer you eventually grew to hate it. if you hadn’t been working, you at the very least would’ve given them a death stare or contemplated telling them off (even though you knew you’d never have the balls to do anything of the sort.)

after a couple of minutes, one of them whistled at you to get your attention. strike two. another thing you very much hated. now you were even being treated like an animal. who the hell do they think they are?

you walked over to them and plastered a fake smile on your face and asked if they were ready.

“we just wanted to know what you recommend. i��m sure you drink lots since, you know, you work here.”

some of them chuckled, and you didn’t really get what was funny. but you decided to not start anything and just answered the question.

“well, we have lots of options,” you responded, “we have many of the classics you can find anywhere else, and we also have some that are less common. we just got the louis xiii cognac which is very hard to find, so i’d recommend that one.”

“yeah? are you just saying that ‘cause it’s the most expensive?”

“if you want less pricey options, we have those too.” you replied, avoiding the question. of course you were suggesting it because it was the most expensive. that’s kinda your job. you’re supposed to make money.

“we can afford it.” one of them said.

“yeah, bring us that one.” another chimed in.

you smiled and nodded, walking away. gosh, you felt them draining any energy you had every second you spent near them. you carefully took the bottle and put it on your tray, and grabbed a few glasses and put them with the bottle. you made your way over to their table, placing their glasses in front of them one by one, and although you weren’t looking at any of them, you knew they all had their eyes glued on you. you tried your hardest to pour their drinks quickly enough so you could just get out of there, but not too quickly that they’ll notice. unfortunately for you, they caught onto what you were doing.

“why’re you pouring so fast, babygirl? you in a hurry?”

tonight was going to be a long night.

— 𓆩♥︎𓆪 —

ellie couldn’t wait for her turn at the door to be over. she made sure to peek inside every chance she had, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t eyeing you. she couldn’t help it. she couldn’t stop looking at how the black shorts and black baby tee you wore hugged your body and showed off your figure, and she had never been more grateful for the existence of the uniform. but above looking at you because of how attractive you were, she wanted to make sure you were safe. she had dealt with lots of men like them before, and she wouldn’t hesitate to kick them out if things escalated even the slightest bit.

after a while, her supervisor dismissed her and told her to stay inside to make sure nobody was causing any trouble. of course, she went over to the area you were, since there was no one watching over that area and because you were there.

“why’re you pouring so fast, babygirl? you in a rush?” she overheard one of the men speaking to you, with a sort of entitled tone. if she hadn’t been paying attention before, she definitely was now. with the way they were acting, it seemed like they didn’t notice she was there. you were clearly uncomfortable, but tried to play it off, you didn’t want to cause trouble or provoke them. she watched closely as they kept offering you to sit down and drink with them, not listening to you no matter how many times you politely told them you’re not allowed. telling you to “just have one drink, it’s fine” and “no one will know” and they “won't tell your boss.” but your boss was not the only concern. the concern was you. you didn’t know these men, you didn’t know what they could do.

but suddenly, one of the guys sitting on the edge of the seat pulled you in by the hip and forcibly sat you down. in that moment, ellie immediately went over to the table and knew she had to step in.

“sir, you’re not allowed to put your hands on the employees. i’m gonna have to ask you and the rest of your party to step outside.” she said in a stern tone.

“she willingly sat down with us,” one of them lied, “she just wanted to have a drink. nothin’ wrong with tha-“

“i saw what happened. no point in lying. now please step outside before i have you forcibly removed from the premises.”

“yeah?” he stood up to face her. “you’re just a woman. what’re you gonna do? you can’t get all of us out of here.”

“sir, back down.” she warned.

“or what?”

she didn’t respond. instead, she punched him in the face, breaking his nose. a few of his friends stood up, but before they could do anything, some of the security had already gone over to the scene and stopped them, escorting them out as ellie went with you to the break room.

“you alright?” she asked, seeing how shaken up you were.

“i’m, uh, i’m fine. don’t worry.” you responded, sitting down on the couch, still uneasy from the experience. you hated people touching you without your consent, even something that was sort of minor like this. you were already uncomfortable, and this just made it even worse. you didn’t notice ellie had sat down next to you until she wrapped her arm around you and you melted in her embrace. you felt a little embarrassed at how comfortable you felt with a girl you’ve only had small talk with prior, but you were able to push that feeling away because in that moment, you didn’t care. the fact she hadn’t judged you and said “it’s part of the job” or something along those lines, let alone saying you were overreacting was enough to tell you that you could trust her.

“do you, uh, want me to drive you home?” she broke the silence.

“i can’t. i have to finish this shift.” you mumbled. “plus, my roommate has someone over tonight. i can’t go home right now.”

“then, if you want, we can go to my place,” she suggested, quickly adding on “but just so you don’t have to stay in this environment, i’m not trying to be creepy i promise,” because the last thing she wanted was for you to take it the wrong way and be uncomfortable.

“thanks, but, i still have to go back out there and finish my shift.”

she was a little sad. if it was up to her, she’d make you quit and happily support you. she made a lot of money for a college student, between working as a bouncer and dealing weed on the side. she had more than enough to support the both of you, but she’d never talk about anything of the sort out loud.

“i can speak to management for you,” she said, “i’m sure they’ll understand.”

you accepted hesitantly, the voice in the back of your mind telling you you’d just end up fired. but that didn’t matter to you in the moment. you had to get out of there. you couldn’t stand it anymore.

ellie guided you through the back door, making sure you wouldn’t have to face those men again, holding you by the wrist with just enough strength to make sure she wouldn’t let you go easily but not too hard so she wouldn’t make you uncomfortable. she opened her car door for you, waiting a couple seconds for you to get settled in in case you needed her help for whatever reason.

the car ride was short and silent. it wasn’t the awkward kind of silence, more so the kind of silence when there’s nothing to say. it was a comforting silence, a drastic contrast from the loud music in the club that had been blasting in your ears for the past 2 or so hours. you were looking out the window, watching the city lights and buildings as you passed them. ellie would be lying if she said she didn’t steal a few glances at you when you were looking away. she couldn’t help it, you were just so mesmerizingly beautiful she couldn’t help but look at you any chance she could.

when you finally arrived at her place, you were surprised to see she had a house and not an apartment. it wasn’t a big house, but it seemed like it could house about 3 people. you were about to ask about her roommates, but almost as if she read your mind, she said;

“sorry about the mess, i uh, i live alone, so. don’t usually have people over either.”

“it’s fine,” you shook your head, “i’m just grateful you let me come here.”

she noticed you sounded like you were in a better mood. “you feeling a little better now?”

you nodded. “yeah. i guess i just needed to get out of there.” you bit your lip in worry. “but now i don’t know what to do. i’m pretty sure i’ll end up getting fired after leaving like that.”

“after what happened to you? nah. it’s understandable,”

“are you sure? i-i mean, am i not supposed to let them know beforehand-“

“you’ll be fine, don’t worry.” she reassured you. “you’re sort of new, aren’t you?”

“not really. i’ve been working there for a couple months.”

“so you’re new. got it.”

you playfully rolled your eyes. “sure, let’s say that.”

she smiled. “anyway, you wanna do anything? or do you just wanna rest?”

“i guess we could watch a movie or something,” you suggested, “if you want, of course.” you were surprised at how bold you were. it wasn’t anything too bold, sure, but that’s only true for everyone else. for you, something like that, which others might think is minor, is sort of a big deal. not only were you at this girl’s house, but suggesting to watch a movie as well. you were a bit scared that might’ve been too much.

“yeah, sure,” she replied, “you into horror?”

“uhh.. not really..” you admitted.

“it’s fine, we can just watch something else.”

“no, no, it’s fine!” you insisted. it was, in fact, not fine. especially at this time, horror was not your thing. it wasn’t a huge fear of yours or anything, but you were a little embarrassed of the fact you still got scared while watching them, sometimes even got nightmares. but no way you’d admit that to her right there. you felt you were already being too much of a burden on her, so you’d just suck it up to not bother her any further.

a few moments later, you were both on her couch watching some random horror movie she had picked out. you didn’t even know what was going on in the plot, you were way too scared. you’d argue this was one of the scariest movies, scratch that, media in general you’ve ever seen. where did she even find this sort of stuff? ellie was full of surprises indeed.

you didn’t notice you had snuggled up to her, your head laying on her chest, from the fear. once you realized, your face turned red as you pulled away in embarrassment and mumbled some apologies as you moved away. to your surprise, she lightly tightened her grip of her arm she had wrapped around you (which you only now noticed as well), telling you with no need for words that it was fine, and you could stay that way. you didn’t really know how to react to that, but you stayed. something about her was so comforting. you barely knew her, yet you trusted her as if you’d known her all your life. it was a strange feeling. you’d been on multiple dates with the same person many times before yet you still felt more of a connection with your coworker who you had only spoken to a handful of times beforehand. you weren’t even paying attention to the movie anymore. your mind was too busy paying attention to the thoughts racing in your head to process what was going on in the screen about a meter in front of you. you had lots of questions, and the more that popped up in your head, the more your heartbeat sped up.

ellie could feel something was wrong. she lightly lifted up your chin to make you face her, locking eyes with you. she asked if it was because of what happened earlier. you felt like you should look away, but you couldn’t. something about her was just so mesmerizing. you lightly nodded, not wanting to admit all the thoughts in your mind at that moment. you looked into each other's eyes for a couple seconds, before she planted a soft kiss on your lips. it was the type of kiss that happened almost as a reflex, the type that you have almost no control over. you could feel her try to pull away after realizing what she did, but before she fully pulled away you pressed your lips against hers, pulling her in this time in a deeper kiss.

before you knew it, you were straddling her lap as she placed kisses on your neck, occasionally sucking on it softly and leaving light purple marks on your skin. you hadn’t realized how much it was turning you on until you started lightly rocking your hips back and forth, desperate to get any sort of friction. ellie realized what you were doing, and placed her hands on your waist, almost guiding your movement, causing you to let out a few soft moans and whimpers.

“ellie..” you whined.

“i know, baby, i know.”

she carefully lifted you off her lap and laid you down on the couch, hovering over you. she tugged on the hem of your shorts.

“let’s get these off.” she said, as she undid the button and slipped them off you with ease, revealing your soaked cotton panties. “cute,” she thought to herself.

“i’ve barely touched you n’ you’re already so wet,” she teased, rubbing your clit through the thin cloth causing you to moan softly.

after a moment, you started to whine, tired of her teasing.

“desperate, huh?”

you broke eye contact as you looked away in embarrassment. in the back of your mind, you couldn’t believe everything that was going on. you found it a little embarassing, hooking up with a coworker you had barely spoken to prior. but as you had been doing the whole night, you tried to push those thoughts to the back of your mind and focus on the moment.

“don’t feel ashamed, pretty girl.” she said, noticing you felt a little off. something about her caring but almost demanding tone was turning you on even more.

she carefully pulled your panties to the side, sliding two fingers in, thrusting them at a slower but steady pace. this was better, but it still wasn’t enough. you bucked your hips ever so slightly, to tell her you wanted more.

“you’re gonna have to try a little harder than that, baby,” she said. she knew exactly what you meant, but she wanted to hear you say it. you whined in complaint, hoping she wouldn’t make you say it out loud.

“use your words, princess,” she smirked while locking eyes with you.

“please, ellie..” you begged.

“please what?”

“please, more..”

“good girl,” she said under her breath, speeding up her pace and thrusting her fingers inside you twice as fast as she was before, causing you to moan and whimper louder. soon you started feeling a knot forming in your stomach, making you attempt to grip the couch.

“ellie.. fuck..” you moaned.

“i know, pretty. but you don’t get to cum yet.” she smirked, suddenly pulling her fingers out.

you whined at her words and the sudden emptiness inside you, as ellie softly chuckled at your reaction. she found it so cute. she found pretty much everything about you to be cute.

she stood up, and went to grab something from her closet. it was a bright purple strap, and it was quite big. you weren’t sure it would even fit inside you. you watched as she effortlessly took off her pants and put the harness on, walking back to the couch and positioning herself, the tip right in front of your entrance.

“i want you to cum from my cock.”

she started sliding it along your slit, coating it in your slick, causing you to whine a little, before positioning it once again in front of your entrance and slowly sliding the tip inside you easily.

you were still a little scared since you had never done anything like this before. you’ve gotten fingered before, sure, but this was the first time someone used a strap on you. especially one this big.

“ellie..”

“hm?”

“i’ve never, uh,” you stuttered, “done something like this.”

“never gotten fucked with a strap before, huh?” she said, “i could tell. you seem kinda nervous. but relax, princess, i’ll take care of you.”

the nickname only turned you on more. you didn’t get why you loved it so much. it had never crossed your mind, yet you were now sure it was your favorite pet name ever.

with that, she started slowly sliding it in, looking at your facial expressions to make sure she wasn’t hurting you. surprisingly, you were able to take it all. she started thrusting it at a slow pace, gradually speeding up, but not quite fast yet. she definitely wanted to fuck you way harder and faster, but she wanted you to get used to the feeling first.

after a few thrusts you started to get used to the feeling, and it was amazing. she sped up her pace a little more, gripping your thighs, and this time she was able to locate your sweet spot, and boy was she about to abuse it. she hit it with every thrust, making you twitch and moan at every wave of pleasure.

“good fuckin’ girl,” she praised, “already taking my cock so well.”

“ellie.. please..” you begged, between moans, “faster..”

“yeah? you sure you can handle it, tough girl?”

you nodded, and she immediately sped up. she fucked you a little faster than you expected, and it was a little too much, but the overwhelming pleasure was, at the same time, addicting. the sounds of your moans and whimpers, her groans, and your wet cunt filled the room. soon, that familiar knot in your stomach started forming again, except this time it was much more intense, causing you to try and grip the couch once again. she realized what was going on, and started using her thumb to rub circles on your clit. you started tearing up from the overstimulation which was the littlest bit painful but also overwhelmingly pleasurable.

“i wanna hear you say my name, baby,” she demanded, “i know you’re close.”

and almost on cue, you came all over her cock as you moaned her name, just as she demanded, as she fucked you through your orgasm and finally pulling out with a slight pop.

— 𓆩♥︎𓆪 —

it had been about an hour since you finished your.. activity. she insisted on getting a bath started for you, and now there you were on her bed, in one of her t-shirts that was a little big on you, freshly out of the bath. you texted your roommate before getting in the bath to tell her you wouldn’t be coming home tonight, and of course, she didn’t mind that at all.

not only were you on ellie’s bed, but you were cuddling her, trying to sleep. she told you you didn’t have to, and that she just enjoys sleeping with body warmth, but you knew better. maybe it was true, but it sure as hell was not the only reason. but you didn’t mind. you acted stupid and like you bought her story, because truth is, you really wanted to cuddle with her, and you were even thinking of similar excuses if she hadn’t brought it up first.

“you awake?” ellie whispered.

“mhm, sort of.” you replied, in a sleepy voice.

“i just, uh,” she paused for a moment, “i just wanted to know. when will i see you again?”

“on our next shift together.” you joked.

“no, dummy, i mean like this.”

you thought about it for a moment.

“i guess we’ll see,” you responded softly, “i’m pretty sleepy. i think we should talk about this later.”

she seemed satisfied with your response, but she still had the fear you were only saying that to be polite, and you didn’t want anything more or didn’t want this to repeat. of course, she’d respect you if that was the case, although she’d be a little disappointed. but she felt there was something more there, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. you weren’t like any of the other girls she’s hooked up with before. she wasn’t exactly sure what set you apart from them, but she knew there had to be something.

maybe it was just feelings.

but even if it didn’t seem like that was the case because of your shy personality, you wanted something more. just like her.

#arielle writes ୨��#arielle’s 18+ ୨୧ #ellie williams x reader #🪐 anon #ellie williams #the last of us #ellie x reader #the last of us 2 #tlou #tlou 2 #tlou x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams hcs #ellie williams drabble #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams headcanons #ellie williams smut

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vrystalius · 24 days

Note

I was wondering if you could do a small request. I was thinking of Yoriichi or Kokushibo(it doesn’t matter which one) with an s/o who’s a dragon. Not like a demon just a normal dragon who can turn into a more human like appearance(for the s/o dragon form think of house of the dragon there dragons are what I’m thinking of). How do think he’ll react to seeing his s/o’s dragon form for the first time and going on a flight?(I need this man to be taken on a flight through the clouds🥲)As well as the deep snoring/growling his s/o makes when sleeping?

❕ Having a s/o that can morph into a dragon

Yorichii’s and Kokushibo’s reaction to having a s/o that can morph into a dragon.

Note: Thank you for requesting!! I never watched House of Dragon, so my apologies if I wrote something inaccurate. And yes this is a little more different than I usually write, but I’ll go back to the Sanemi fluff tomorrow. Or angst, who knows? :P

Pairing: Yorichii, Kokushibo x reader

(Here, Yorichii and Uta were only friends. Spoilers for Yorichii’s past)

🧡 Yorichii Tsugikuni 💛

First reaction

Yorichii would feel a deep respect for you the first time he saw you transform into a dragon. Dragons symbolise a connection to incredible power and ancient wisdom, and yet you use it for the good and humanity, and not for Muzan’s search for power. That is something he admired greatly.

He would admire you with soft eyes, recognising the burden you must be carrying with you. Power could be both a curse and a blessing. You have to transform into a human in order to be accepted, to live amongst others and to hide your power. Yorichii was forced to live a life of solitude, thanks to his immense power and but also continues failures (in his eyes). He lost Uta, his brother, and he will loose many more in the future. But Yorichii is incredibly grateful that he has you now, the love of his life, the one he will swear to protect

First flight

When you first suggested to take him on a flight, Yorichii was very hesitant. He can’t imagine himself flying over the clouds and seeing Japan from above. Did anyone ever do that anyway? Would he be the first?

But after talking about your experiences, how pleasant it feels to feel the air around you and how convenient it is to travel from one place to another, Yorichii quietly gave in. Your first flight was to the Kamado family to visit Sumiyoshi and his newborn he has been writing to him about.

While in the air, Yorichii held onto you for dear life. His face appeared stoic and calm, but his death grip told another story. He was leaning down, trying to be as close to you as possible, kind of using you as a shield to not feel as much wind resistance.

After landing, Yorichii had to take a couple breathers before being able to walk as normal. He may be the strongest slayer, but being hundreds, maybe thousands of feet in the air might be too much, for even him.

Snoring and nesting habits

Your snoring is oddly comforting to him. It reminds him that you are right next to him and that you are not going anywhere for tonight. If he has a terrible nightmare or any need for comfort, Yorichii can just turn over and hold onto you. That thought calms him.

He also finds you adorable when you roll into the sheets, constructing some kind of nest. Yorichii would indulge you in your needs and provided you with more pillows and futons and quietly encourage you to keep going.

💜 Kokushibo 💜

First reaction

Kokushibo’s first reaction is envy. Your great power and appearance is intimidating him, as if someone challenged him for his Upper Moon One position. Your power must be great. Is it as great as him though?

But after his first reaction, Kokushibo began to admire you quietly. He would only express it rarely, but he begins to appreciate your strength and abilities and how they could benefit him in his goal to become the strongest. You’re his lover, and you could assist him in the pursuit of perfect skill and power. Also, having such a powerful significant other feels empowering.

First flight

Kokushibo would refuse to fly with you at first. Not that he’s scared- not at all! He’s Upper Moon One, what is he scared off? Nothing.

It took a lot of convincing and talking to make him agree. His usual response would be to silently stare you down until you decided to leave on your own. His silence would be enough of an answer.

Kokushibo needs a good reason to go fly with you, otherwise he’ll flat out refuse.

Tonight you managed to convince him. You offered to fly him to his next mission’s location while Nakime was unavailable. Kokushibo was silent the whole flight, like most of the time, refusing to look down. The infinity fortress he can handle, if he falls into the infinite halls, Nakime would be able to teleport him right back to his chambers. But up here, in the skies and above the clouds, there’s no escaping. Kokushibo proceeds to just dtare at the moon the whole time, trying to be as stable and safe as possible.

Your snoring and nesting habits

He doesn’t mind your snoring or growling. It’s like white noise to Kokushibo, something he can listen to while he meditates.

Your nesting habits may seem childish to him every now and then, but he does enjoy laying and cuddling with you in them from time to time.

💠

Make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough.

Take care of yourselves <3

#💠 house of vry 💠#demon slayer x reader #demon slayer #kny x reader #demon slayer hashira #fluff #yorichii x reader #kny yorichii #yorichii #yoriichi tsugikuni x reader #yoriichi x reader #yoriichi tsugikuni #kny kokushibo #kokushibou x reader #kokushibo x reader #kokushibo #kokushibou

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yoongiseesawmp3 · 6 months

Text

ceilings pt3 - san

summary: pe teacher!san turned new dad!san. your family of three is growing. an engagement, a pregnancy, a wedding? that's a lot. good thing you and san can get through anything together.

word count: 9.8k

warnings: afab reader, inaccurate descriptions of pregnancy/labor (ive never done it before!)

note: this is the last part! thank you for reading and sharing such kind words about this series :') thank you thank you thank you.

masterlist / part one / part two

"baby, come on, we're gonna be late!" san calls from the kitchen. you groan, but he can't hear you. it's still the early stages of your pregnancy, but you feel like shit. you know you need to get up, you have to go to this appointment, but no part of you wants to move. so you don't. that leads to san bursting into the bedroom with your breakfast, saying, "paging mrs. choi!"

"why do you keep calling me that? we're not married yet," you mumble into your pillow. then, upon smelling the food san's holding in front of you, you scrunch your face up and suppress a gag. "move, i think i'm gonna be sick."

san steps out of the way as you sprint to the bathroom, trying to shut him out before you kneel just in time to hurl all the contents of your stomach into the toilet. you know it may not be sanitary, but you lay your head on the seat, catching your breath as san quietly joins you.

"san, i told you i don't want you to see me like this," you whisper, voice hoarse.

"too bad," he shakes his head. he sits on the edge of the tub, brushing your hair out of your face as he says, "i'm here now so i'm here for everything. even the puking bits."

"but it's embarrassing. and gross."

"it's nature," he shrugs while you start heaving again. "it happens."

"how late are we gonna be for the appointment?" you ask, looking back to find san watching you with concern in his eyes.

"not too late," he admits. "i woke you up early."

"you're evil."

"yeah but you love me," he smirks.

"not right now," you say as you hover over the toilet again. "seriously, can you go do something else?"

"nothing for me to do," he says. "vi's at school, kitchen is clean, laundry's done-"

"can you," you stop as you get sick again. "can you go throw those eggs away? i'm sorry san but just the smell-"

"they're gone," he says, kissing the back of your head as you take deep breaths to steady your stomach. he clears the food that he brought for you, packing some safer foods for you to snack on in the car. he also packs your vitamins and a ginger ale, because he knows you'll be fine in a few minutes. your morning sickness comes like clockwork, and goes away pretty quickly. it's just tough while you're going through it, so san is eager to make things easier for you if he can. he places your to go bag by the door, shuffling back to the bedroom to find you back in the bed. "y/n, now we're actually late."

"do i have to go to this appointment?" you whine. "you can go for me."

"we kinda need your equipment though, baby," he laughs. "come on, let's get dressed."

you roll out of bed then and into san's arms. he hugs you tight, kissing your forehead before waddling you into the closet. he hands you whatever is closest, taking your pajamas and tossing them into the laundry basket as you change. when you're done he gives you a once over and asks, "did you brush your teeth?"

"yes," you grumble. "but it made me sick again. so we'll have to get a new toothpaste on the way back from the doctor, i can't use this one anymore."

"got it," san nods, pulling you out of the closet and toward the door. "you good now? ready to go?"

"yep," you assure him. "let me just get something for the car-"

san holds up the bag he prepared earlier, smiling proudly as he says, "way ahead of you, love. now let's go see this baby!"

you're using the same doctor that delivered violet for this pregnancy, so you know what to expect. the first visit for this kid was just with a technician, so today will be san's first time meeting the doctor. at the other appointment, he got to see the ultrasound, even though the fetus was barely the size of a peanut on the screen, and he still cried. he's been so excited for this appointment because he has a lot of questions for the doctor, and they'll take blood today to find out the sex.

you thought about waiting, because that's what you did with violet, but san said he wants to know everything. you want him to enjoy this, getting to be a dad from the very beginning, so you're doing whatever he wants. he wants to know the sex, so you're doing that. he wants to be at every appointment, so he's there. he wants to see all the good and exciting parts of pregnancy and all the gross and scary parts too, so you're letting him. it's bringing you closer than you ever thought possible, and you can't believe you did this once already without san by your side to help you.

as he drives to the doctor, he goes through his questions with you, not wanting to sound like an ignorant dad in front of your doctor. he's worried about asking questions he should already know, so you're answering what you can and keeping track of which answers need a professional opinion.

"you know some of these you could just google," you tease. "no need to bother the doc with them."

"i'd rather hear it from someone i trust, not a stranger on the internet," san replies. "but there's one i'm afraid to ask, so i guess i'll google that."

"what is it?" you ask, curiosity getting the best of you.

"can we still have sex?"

"you're joking."

"what! i want to know if it's bad for the baby!"

"i actually don't know," you think about it. "i know sex is encouraged to induce labor, but i'm not sure if it does anything else."

"i'll keep that in mind," san smirks, and you slap his arm as he pulls into the parking lot. he complains when you get out of the car without his help, but you remind him that you can still do things on your own. he keeps mumbling as you walk into the waiting room, waving as you greet the receptionist.

"well if it isn't my favorite parents," she smiles.

"i bet you say that to everyone," you roll your eyes, but she shakes her head.

"nope, you made the cutest kid i've ever seen," she says. "and you're both nice, so that gets you top spot."

"well i hope that works in our favor since we're so late today," san says sheepishly.

"no worries," the receptionist assures him. "it's a slow day, so you're all we've got this morning. i'll tell the doc you're here."

a nurse leads you to an exam room shortly after, and san starts firing some of his questions at her. they chat as you get situated in the chair, cursing at how uncomfortable you are. was your pregnancy with violet this miserable? or has it just been so long you forgot how bad it gets?

"y/n! it's so nice to see you again!" the doctor says cheerfully as she walks in. san stands off to the side as you catch up, but you keep an eye on him as you speak. the doc catches on and turns to him, smiling warmly as she asks, "is this the father i've heard so much about?"

"you told her about me?" san asks you, and you feel yourself blush.

"some of it was just medical," the doc answers for you. "but i could tell this one had some feelings she needed to address. i'm very happy to see you both here now."

"happy to be here," san smiles. "i've actually got some questions for you-"

"i'm sorry in advance," you tell her, and san shushes you.

"i've dealt with much worse," the doctor says. "ask away."

boy does he! san shoots off question after question as the doctor preps the machine and checks your vitals. when you lift your shirt for the ultrasound gel, she comments on your baby bump.

"you're showing a lot for just a few weeks," she notes. "when did you say you conceived?"

"pretty much the second time we had sex," you answer, and san balks. "what? she's seen my vagina. she can know about our sex life."

"it's part of the job," the doctor agrees. "it's not uncommon for a second pregnancy to speed some symptoms along, so that might be why you're showing so soon.

"is that a bad thing?" san asks, but she shakes her head.

"just some early growth, nothing wrong with that," she says as she starts the ultrasound. san takes your hand and squeezes softly, his palm sweaty from nerves and excitement. "but let's take a look at the little one to make sure."

"do you hear that?" you ask san. he's watching the screen intently, so it takes a second for your voice to register. he listens for a second and asks what you're talking about. "the heartbeat. that whooshing sound? that's the baby."

"really?" he looks at you eagerly. "that's the baby's heartbeat?"

"babies," the doctor says, and you nod in agreement.

"yeah, that's the baby's heart-"

"no, i mean babies, plural," she repeats. "there are two fetuses here."

"what?" you're shocked. you look at the screen and gasp, noticing the second blob immediately. "oh my god."

"two babies?" san whispers, gripping your hand so tightly it hurts. "there's two babies in there?"

"that's why you're showing so early," the doctor smiles as she notes a few things in your file. "but yes, you're having twins, y/n."

"oh my god," you repeat. san cups your chin, pulling your gaze from the ultrasound to his teary eyes.

"twins," he emphasizes. "two babies, y/n!"

"two babies," you nod, still surprised. "you get to have three after all."

"i love you so much," he whispers, kissing you quickly so he can go back to staring at the babies on the screen.

"do twins run in your family?" the doctor asks.

"maybe in mine?" san thinks out loud, and your head whips to look at him. "what?"

"that would've been nice to know!"

"would it have stopped you from sleeping with me?" san asks, and you shut up, because, no, it wouldn't have. but it would've been nice to know it was a possibility.

"since it's twins, this pregnancy might look a little different," the doctor starts to explain, and you try to listen but your mind is swimming. two babies. you're gonna have three kids. two babies plus violet. can you and san handle that? can you afford it? can your house even fit two babies? as you run through all these questions, san jots down notes on the pamphlets the doctor is handing him, explaining how the appointments will increase in frequency for the next bit of the pregnancy to monitor the twins' growth and your health. there's even more things you have to do now to make sure everything is safe, so san is planning his next grocery run in his head as you sit there stunned.

"y/n?" he finally calls your name. you turn to him dazed, and he can tell something's wrong. "you ok?"

"this is just a lot to take in," you say softly. "but i'm ok. i'm happy."

"are you ready for me to take your blood?" the doctor asks, and you nod. she explains that they'll call back tomorrow with your health updates, and in about a week with the sex of the babies. "what do you think you'll have?"

"two girls," san replies immediately.

"you like being a girl dad?" the doctor asks, and he nods eagerly. "y/n? what about you?"

"i want san to have a son," you reply. "but i can't let the boys outnumber me and vi, so i think one of each would be nice."

"i'd be happy with whatever, honestly," san says. "this is exciting."

"cool, because i'm terrified," you mumble, wiping the gel off of your stomach as the doctor wraps up.

"you'll be fine," she tells you. "you were like this with violet, and look how well you did. this pregnancy will be just as great."

"i'll remember that in the morning when i'm puking my guts out," you smile, and she laughs.

"let me get you a few more vitamins, and then you're good to go."

you and san took the day off work for the appointment, so after a quick grocery shop you're back home. you're already exhausted despite not doing much today, so san puts the groceries up while you lay down. you're in and out of sleep when he pads into the room, lays down behind you and scoops you into his arms.

"y/n," he whispers into your hair. "are you awake?"

"no."

"baby."

"my love. sh."

"but i want to ask you something." at that you roll over. he looks at you softly, brushing some hair out of your face. "how do you feel?"

"that's why you woke me up?" you pout, and he kisses you to make up for it.

"we're having twins," he says. the shock is finally hitting him, apparently. "that's a lot more work for you."

"for both of us," you reply. "good thing there's two of us, a baby for each."

"yeah, but at the doctor earlier you said you were scared," he continues. "and then she went on and on about all the things you need to be careful of..."

so this isn't san checking in on you, really. it's him admitting he's worried, but masking it by seeing how you feel about this change of plans. he does that a lot, tries to save face and be unafraid for you, but you need him to know he can be open with you about his feelings. he can get too caught up in providing for you and violet that he forgets to check on himself, so you'll do it for him.

"i'm scared, but good scared," you explain. "pregnancy is scary, because you never really know everything is good until you meet the kid. and don't even get me started on labor. the idea of doing that twice, back to back? that's gonna be awful. but i know it'll be ok, because i have you, and we have our family, our friends, so many people to support us. it'll be tough, sure, but we can do it," you assure him, cupping his face. "aren't you excited you'll get your family of five you've always wanted?"

"yeah," he admits shyly. "i'm really excited, it's just..."

"sannie, you can tell me. are you nervous?" he nods. "what are you nervous about?"

"am i gonna be a good dad?" he whispers so quietly you could barely hear it, and you're just inches away from him. you sit up as best you can, staring down at him in disbelief.

"how on earth could you think otherwise?" you ask. "look at how you are with violet."

"yeah, but she was a big kid when i met her," he whispers still. "i've worked with kids her age for years. i've never been around a baby, let alone two, for more than a couple hours."

"well good thing you have me, super mom, by your side," you joke, but san groans, pulling your hand from caressing his neck to hold it over his chest. you can feel his heart racing as you flatten your palm over his soft t shirt, and you trace shapes over it to try and calm him.

"i'm being serious, y/n."

"and i'm being serious when i say you'll be great with the babies. i raised one, i know what it takes, and i swear i'm not joking. you're already great at anticipating mine and violet's needs, and that's most of what having a baby is about. you're loving, and nurturing, and easy to hold onto for a few hours," he blushes at this, "and that's another big part of having a baby. they're super clingy."

"like you?" he teases, and you pinch him. "ah!"

"i know you'll be great with the babies because you are a kind, smart, caring person. what you don't know, you'll figure out, and i'll be right next to you to help whenever you need it, mr. choi," you add, and you feel san's skin warm at the nickname, but he frowns anyway. "what? you're not convinced?"

"no, i just thought about it, and when are we gonna have a wedding?" he wonders. "do we still want to wait until the babies come, or will we be too exhausted now that there's two of them?

"that's a good question," you frown too, nuzzling into your pillow as your grogginess takes over. "we'll have to think about that another day. you woke me up from a nap."

"go to sleep, baby," san says, pulling you onto his chest. "thank you for what you said."

"i meant it," you say softly. "you are so capable, san. two babies aren't gonna take you down." he giggles, and it jostles you so bad you wince. "what's so funny?"

"sorry," he shakes his head. "just..the way you phrased that. now i'm thinking about me fighting two really big babies."

"oh my god," you groan, pushing away from him as you lay your head back on your pillow. "good night. wake me up when you mature ten years."

jen brought violet home from school that afternoon, and wooyoung tagged along just because. secretly he liked playing house and wondering what it would be like when he's ready to have kids, but if he admitted to that he would never hear the end of it. plus, he's too immature to have his own kid. he taught violet a song about farts on the ride home, so he's happy in his role as fun uncle.

san, ever the dad, reprimands wooyoung (and violet a little too) for the song as you tell jen about the doctor's appointment. violet has run off to her room, so it's just the adults now. san has an arm draped over your shoulders with jen on your other side, and wooyoung is in his own world in the armchair. jen's listening to you explain the visit while you keep the sonogram pictures just out of her reach. once you've said all you want to say, you hand her the pictures and wait.

"aw!" she squeals. "what am i looking at?"

"well there's one baby," you say, pointing to the first blob. "and there's number two."

"what?" jen and wooyoung's head both snap toward you. "number two?!"

"man, how strong is your sperm?" wooyoung asks, moving to perch on the armrest next to jen so he can see the sonogram himself.

"you're having two babies?" jen asks. "two? as in two babies?"

"two babies," you nod.

"you guys have to be the most fertile people on earth," she shakes her head in disbelief. "how did you have sex twice and get knocked up each time?"

"they've had sex way more than twice," wooyoung scoffs, looking at san to confirm, "right?"

"shut up man."

"so wait," jen says, pulling your attention back. "what about the wedding?"

"it's on hold," you shrug.

"no," san butts in. "it's changing. but it's not on hold."

"you know what i meant baby," you wave him off.

"still didn't like it," he mumbles, and you grab his hand on your shoulder and kiss it in apology. as you pull away you yawn so big it brings tears to your eyes, and you slump back into the couch with a whine. "you didn't sleep enough?"

"no, i did," you grumble. "i was like this with violet, i could sleep all the time and never feel rested."

"well we're here now," jen sits up. "what can we do so you and san can rest?"

"really?" you're skeptical, only because wooyoung looks unsure of being volun-told to help out.

"really."

"uh, san?" you turn to him. "what haven't you done today?"

"you could make dinner," he smiles. "and wear violet out a little more. she told me someone gave her a bunch of candy during dismissal?" he says this looking at jen, who pretends not to notice.

"so i'll be on violet duty, and you cook dinner?" she says to wooyoung, who reluctantly agrees. "great, get to it pal."

"what kinda food do you have?" wooyoung asks. "or are you craving anything?"

"we bought stuff for burgers this morning," san replies, following wooyoung into the kitchen despite this being time for him to rest too. "cook y/n's until there's no pink left, and no cheese-"

as you get further into the pregnancy, you're getting more and more used to the idea of twins. you're glad you ended up with two babies, because now san gets the full experience of having a kid. with one baby, you could use all of violet's hand-me-downs. with two, you need to buy a second set of everything, so san is going trigger happy with the shopping sprees. by the end of the first trimester, you're pretty sure san has bought two of everything from the baby store by your house, and you even think he's got a salesperson on speed dial.

he's late getting back from work one day, and you immediately know where he went. you're not surprised when he comes home, bags hanging from his hands with violet skipping behind him. she's got two baby dolls in her arms, and she slides into the kitchen to show you.

"mommy! look! i'm like you!" she beams. "i'm practicing holding two babies, daddy got me new dolls at the store, and some pretend diapers so i can practice changing them, and he got these cool walkie-talkies for their room so me and the babies can tell secrets..." she trails off as she goes to her room to get the dolls settled with the rest of her toys, leaving you staring at a sheepish san with a hand on your hip. you're totally showing now, the baby belly so big you've just given up on what to wear. you've got an old sweatshirt on, one of san's from college, but even that can't cover the bump. your stomach peeks out, and san's hands rub soothingly over it as he gets closer.

"they're not walkie-talkies, they're baby monitors," san says. "and i got the dolls because she looked pretty bummed at all the baby stuff i was buying. i felt like she needed to know some things are still about her."

"good call," you nod, giving him a kiss. "but did we need more baby stuff?"

"we needed the monitors," he pouts. "the ones you had from vi's baby days were so old i had to crank them to turn them on."

"shut up."

"and i figured we could always use more diapers," he concludes. "so that's why there's a lot of bags."

"and vi's two babies?" you ask, smoothing out a wrinkle in his shirt.

"i blame you for that," he points in your face, and you nip at his finger. "she looks up to you so much, she wouldn't leave without getting 'twims like mommy.' how could i say no to that?"

"that is pretty sweet," you sigh. "you hungry? i made dinner."

"yeah, let me just put this stuff in the twin's room," he says, kissing your cheek before he steps away. "i'll get violet too."

after dinner, you and violet play with her new baby dolls while san figures out the baby monitors. violet is so excited to be a big sister, and you love seeing her practice with the dolls. she's caring like san, cooing at the babies the same way san coos at violet. she's asking great questions too, wondering how she can help when the babies come. you tell her about diapers, feeding, and cleaning up toys, and she listens intently.

"you know what you can do now though?" you ask. she shakes her head, so you scoot closer to her and hold her hands as you go on. "you can talk to the babies. they can hear everything we say, so it's nice to say hi, tell them who you are, and just let them hear your voice."

"they can hear us?" she looks confused. "how?"

"i don't know, bug," you laugh, "but they can. i talked to you all the time when you were in my belly, and when you were born as soon as i said something you started looking for me. you recognized my voice, because you could hear me in here. so do you wanna try talking to the twins?"

"ok," she says, leaning down to cup her hands over your belly. she talks into her hands, and the vibrations makes you giggle. "hi babies!"

"tell them your name," you encourage her.

"i'm violet, your big sister," she says, then looks up at you. "what now?"

"that can be all," you shrug. "you can talk to them more when you have something else to say."

"ok!" she looks satisfied, and you catch movement from the corner of your eye. san is there, watching proudly.

"what are my favorite girls up to?" he asks.

"talking to the babies," you reply. "you wanna say something?"

"maybe later," he smiles. "it's somebody's bedtime."

"no!" violet whines.

"come on baby, let's get ready for bed," you say as you try to stand. you can't, so san rushes to help you up. "did you get the monitors set up?"

"yeah, it was easy," he shrugs. "you got bath time or you need my help?"

"i'll do the bath if you get the bedtime story," you reply. "i've got about ten minutes of energy left in me."

once violet is all clean and in her pjs, you give her a kiss goodnight and head back to your room. meanwhile, san sits down for what will most likely turn into about an hour's worth of bedtime stories, so you start to doze off as you wait for him to finish up. you faintly hear him come into the room, the sound of the shower waking you up. you roll over and see one of the baby monitors already on the nightstand, and you watch it for a moment, remembering the days of baby vi and looking forward to the new babies. you think you're imagining it at first, but you definitely see movement on the screen. you look at it scared, thinking irrationally that it might be a ghost. but you see tiny little violet standing there with her baby dolls in her arms. you turn the volume up to get a better idea of what's happening.

"what are you doing up, baby?" san asks, a towel around his waist as he steps out of the bathroom. you shush him, and he crawls onto the bed to see what you're looking at. he hooks his chin over your shoulder, humming when he realizes what he's looking at. that's when you both hear her.

"hi babies, it's me again," violet whispers. "i'm not supposed to be awake so i gotta talk fast. but i'm really excited to meet you. you're gonna love mommy and daddy too. they're really nice."

"i think i'm gonna cry," you whisper.

"i'm already there," san sniffles, rubbing his nose into your shoulder.

"gross!" you shriek, and he hushes you quickly.

"stop! she might hear you!"

"oh, look, she's doing something," you bring the screen closer, and you see violet place a baby doll in each crib.

"good night babies!" she whispers, shuffling out of the room and back to hers. you and san laugh when you hear her accidentally slam her door shut, and you sit in silence for a minute as you think about what you just watched.

"hey," san whispers, and you twist to meet his eyes. "i love our little family."

"me too," you whisper back.

when your doctor called a few weeks ago with the sex of the twins, you got an idea. you knew your friends would be throwing you a baby shower, so you thought it would be fun for everyone to find out together. you had your doctor email the results to jen, who insisted she wouldn't be able to keep the secret that long, but so far she and wooyoung haven't blabbed (because you know she told him as soon as she knew). they, along with some of your friends from college, have been planning the shower for a couple weeks now, but no one will tell you anything about it. you almost think they're not gonna have it, until san wakes up one weekend to find half of the people he knows just sitting in his living room.

"what the hell?" he asks groggily, finding wooyoung across the room. "you broke into my house?"

"jen has a key," woooyung replies, but that still doesn't explain the situation.

"what-why? why are you all here?" san looks around, suddenly glad he put more clothes on before leaving the bedroom.

"surprise?" jen says, appearing from the kitchen. "we wanted to throw you a surprise shower."

"but we knew about it already," san says as he wipes his eyes. "so it was never a surprise."

"exactly! we made it one!"

"by breaking into my house," san yawns. "so we're doing this now?"

"if that's ok?" jen says. "i talked to y/n about it and she said it was fine."

"oh i'm the only one who didn't know about it then."

"y/n knew it was happening today, she just didn't know when," jen points out.

"fine," san yawns again. "i'll go get her. but she's grumpy in the morning, so beware."

"tell her there's donuts from her favorite place, and i got her a tea latte she told me she likes," jen reports. "and there's other stuff from the diner you go to all the time."

"got it," san nods sleepily, shuffling back into the bedroom. he falls down onto the bed, jostling you awake. "baby. there's people in our house."

"what?"

"jen. she let a bunch of people into our house."

"....what?"

"we have to get up," san says as he rolls himself on top of you, holding himself up so he doesn't squish you or the babies. "now, baby."

"no. 'm tired."

"there's food."

"not hungry," you mumble, pulling san down so you can press your cheek to his. it leaves him in an awkward spot, wanting to cuddle you but not wanting to mess with your precious cargo.

"the sooner we go out there, the sooner they'll leave," san whispers into your ear.

"stop it, that's turning me on."

"oh?" san sits up with a smirk. "tell me more."

"no, help me up," you grumble. with a lot of effort, san gets you out of bed and helps you get dressed. against your protests, he insists on something that'll cover the bump at least while there are guests in the house. you do the same for him, finding the sweatshirt violet gave him that says 'i'm a rad dad' or something lame like that. san wears it with pride as he guides you back out to the party, friends you haven't seen in years stopping you for hugs or to uncomfortably touch your stomach. san keeps a protective eye on you while he looks around for violet, but he can't find her. where is that kid?

"there you are!" jen finds you, pulling you and san into a quick hug. "what took you so long? you knew we were coming."

"somebody didn't want to get up," san tattles.

"i am growing two humans inside of me," you state clearly. "sorry i needed the rest."

"whatever, come on," jen drags you to the kitchen. "we have breakfast."

"where's our kid?" you ask san, and he shrugs. "oh good, cool, house full of people and we don't know-"

"she's outside, crabby," jen cuts you off. "she and the other kids are helping me with some of the games. wooyoung went out there to supervise."

"but who's watching wooyoung?" san teases.

"violet," you and jen reply. she hands you a plate of food so full you're afraid it'll crack beneath the weight, but you've finally gotten over your morning sickness. this might be the first real breakfast you've eaten in months.

"bless you for this," you tell her. "thank you for throwing the shower."

"thanks for letting me have it at your house without you really knowing," she replies. "it won't be long, though, if you're not feeling up to a bunch of activity. mostly everyone has eaten, and the kids are almost done with the surprise outside. presents are in the babies' room, and everyone who brought diapers has already put them in your hall closet."

"can we do this every other month?" you ask through a mouthful of food. you watch san take a bite out of a pink frosted donut and turn to jen so fast it makes her jump.

"what's wrong with you?"

"the pink donuts," you point out. "it's two girls, isn't it?"

"what? no, you just like strawberry donuts, you weirdo," jen replies. "we'll do the boy or girl thing outside."

"did you get one of those baseballs that i can hit with the dust inside? i always wanted to do that," san says excitedly.

"that would've been nice to know earlier," jen says.

"eh, next kid then," san jokes.

once you're sufficiently stuffed, an excited violet sneaks in from the backyard and whispers something to jen. you see them across the room, and then jen calls everyone's attention. she says everyone but you and san can go outside, and you watch as they all trickle into the yard. there's sounds of surprise, some cheers, and even one squeal. you and san are confused, but violet and jen can't keep the smiles off their faces. you approach violet, bending down as best you can, and pinch her nose.

"you're keeping a secret again, aren't you?" you ask her, and she replies by shaking her head so hard her ponytail falls out. you help her fix it as jen explains the next part of the shower.

"so we've set up some games outside," she says. "and some blue or pink decorations. you'll be able to know as soon as you go out there, so you need to let me and vi walk out first, then i'll call for you to follow. got it?"

"i don't like when you go into teacher mode," you mumble.

"you asked for this," she replies. "am i understood?"

"yeah."

"good," she smiles and grabs violet's hand. they walk out together, keeping the door pulled as best they can to stop your prying eyes. you're left alone with san long enough to lace your fingers with his, squeezing his hand tightly before asking him, "you nervous?"

"no," he shakes his head. "i am so, so excited."

"come out!" you hear jen yell. you look to san, your free hand on the door, and he gives you an encouraging nod. you pull the door open but shut your eyes, and you walk into the backyard with san by your side. you only open your eyes when you hear a choked cry from san, and you understand why when you open your eyes.

you see your friends, your family, your beautiful daughter, surrounded by what seems like thousands of streamers. pink streamers. and blue, too.

"a boy and a girl," you turn to san, blinking away tears.

"just like you said. how did you know?" he asks in disbelief.

"it felt right," you reply. san's hands are rubbing over your stomach, and you feel something. "whoa."

"what was that?" san asks, his excitement only growing. "was that a kick?"

"baby girl or baby boy was saying hey," you nod, lifting your shirt regardless of the people around you so you and san can each place a hand over the babies. you feel a little kick beneath your hand followed by another near san, and you jump a little bit. "they're kicking! did you feel that?"

"oh my god," san breathes out. "i can't believe it. we're gonna have two babies."

"two babies that like to party, apparently," you comment, noticing that they haven't stopped wiggling since someone turned some music on. "they're gonna be trouble."

"they'll be perfect," san shakes his head, a sweet look in his eyes. "a boy and a girl! this couldn't be more perfect."

the twins are due any day now, and while you're about to burst because of the babies, san is gonna burst because of excitement. he was attentive before, but damn. now that your due date is looming, he's texting you every hour asking some variation of "are they here yet?"

your due date is actually two days from now, on wednesday, but san convinced you to start your maternity leave today. you've been trying to take a nap for the past hour, but you can't get comfortable enough. you wonder briefly if it's because san's not laying with you, but you don't think about that for too long. you get so uncomfy that you just give up, huffing your way to the living room so you can at least watch tv. as soon as you sit down, your phone starts to ring. it's san, calling on his lunch break.

"hey baby," he chirps when you answer. "how ya feelin?"

"like i'm nine months pregnant with twins."

"did you eat lunch yet? you sound hangry."

"no, i'm feeling nauseous again," you mumble as you move around on the couch. "i thought i was gonna get sick after my breakfast, so i'm not eating for a while to be safe."

"is that good for you and the babies, though?" he asks. "maybe you feel nauseous because you haven't eaten. the twins are basically sucking your life force right now, so you need more than a pop tart for breakfast."

"how did you know-"

"you want me to order something for you?" he asks, but you shake your head even though he can't see.

"no, i'll make something," you reply. "i've got all this anxious energy waiting for the babies to come, doing something with my hands will help."

"don't overdo it though, baby," san warns. "me and vi will be home early today, remember? so leave your dishes for us."

"why are you leaving early?"

"teacher conferences," san answers. "i told you like three times this morning."

"i was asleep, babe."

"oh, well, we'll be home early," he chuckles. "it'll be like that for the next two days."

"great, so you can hover over me even more," you pretend to groan, but san can hear the smile through your words.

"aren't you lucky?" he teases. "ok, well i gotta go, tell the babies i love em."

"oh! that reminds me!" you almost shout. "i thought of a name!"

"really?" san smiles. "for the boy or for the girl?"

"not telling, you'll have to wait till you come home," you taunt him. "see you soon my love."

over dinner, you discuss potential baby names. you and san are in agreement that the boy should be named oliver, but you can't settle on a girl name to save your life.

"no, none of those will be cute with oliver," you shake your head as san reads off a list of baby names. violet sits to your side, silently munching on her dinner, but she looks deep in thought.

"yeah, but if we call him oli," san starts again, and you groan.

"babe, that's cute for a little kid, but i don't want our son to be a grown man still introducing himself with a nickname," you insist. "we need a name that sounds good with oli and with oliver."

"then you look," san says, passing the phone to you. "but i stand by my choice."

"these are pretty," you point to a few on the list, but san scrunches his nose. "what's wrong with them?"

"i didn't know you were giving birth to a grandma," san jokes, and you reach over the table and pinch him. "ouch!"

"what about ivy?" violet asks, and in the midst of your bickering with san you almost miss her little voice. "ivy and oli sounds good, but so does ivy and oliver."

"i love it, bug," san smiles brightly at her. he looks to you for your opinion, but he frowns when he sees you crying. "what's wrong?"

"it's perfect," you blubber out, waving him off as he tries to comfort you. "i'm fine. i'm hormonal."

"but you like the name?" san asks, and you nod as you blow your nose. "vi, how'd you come up with ivy?"

"it's everywhere at the park," she shrugs. "we went on a nature walk today, and i saw the place where we met mommy with the bench and the violets."

"when you proposed," you say quietly. "there was ivy in the clearing when you proposed."

"that's it then," san smiles. "the twins will be named ivy and oliver."

"now we all have v's in our names!" violet cheers, but you and san look confused.

"mommy and daddy don't," you point out.

"this isn't for you, it's just for the kids," violet shakes her head, and you share a look with san like you know you've gotten yourselves into trouble. imagine two more violets running around, how are you gonna manage the sass?

"well then, time for the kids to go to bed," san says, looking at you and vi. "that includes you, mama. babies need sleep."

"but i'm comfortable," you groan. "i don't wanna move yet."

"i'll help you," san leaps into action, wrapping his arm around you as he helps you stand while violet watches on.

"ew, mommy, did you pee your pants?" she giggles, pointing to your seat. you and san turn to see what she's talking about, and you feel the wind get knocked out of you as you realize what this means.

"oh shit," you breathe out, turning to san. "my water broke. i'm having the babies."

san precariously gets you and violet to the hospital where jen meets you shortly after. she's prepared to hang with violet in the waiting room or take her back home if this takes too long, but violet's insisting that she wants to stay the whole time.

"i don't wanna go home," she pouts after you tell her the plan. "i can't miss the babies!"

"she's right," jen says, "she can't miss the babies."

"this might take a while, bug," san tells her, but violet shakes her head. he looks to jen next and asks, "are you cool to stay the night? i can call my sister if-"

"if violet's staying, i'm staying," jen says with finality. "i brought blankets, she and i can share."

"knock knock!" your doctor appears at the door. "are we ready for the first check in?"

"we'll be in the waiting room," jen ushers violet out while san moves next to the bed and reaches for your hand. he holds onto it tightly as the doctor goes through the motions of checking everything. when she finishes she looks at you both and smiles.

"well, everything looks good so far, i'll be back in a little bit to see how you're doing," your doctor says. "if you need me, just hit the call button, but i think you're in good hands."

"i am," you look to san. once the doctor leaves, you cup his face and bring him down for a kiss. "how ya feelin', dad?"

"i'm freaking out," he whispers back. "how are you not freaking out?"

"i've done this before," you shrug. "i know it's not that bad."

"but i don't!" san yelps. "you're about to do something that should be physically impossible! then we're gonna have two babies! three kids that we're responsible for! what are we gonna do?"

"san, look at me." he stops and leans his forehead against yours. "it's gonna be fine. freak out, don't freak out, whatever, but all you gotta do is stay by my side and watch the birth of your twins. all the stuff after, we'll figure it out together. yeah?"

"ok," he whispers.

"you're still freaking out, aren't you?"

"no."

"do you want something to do?" you ask. "something to help distract you?"

"please."

"help me get to the bathroom," you whine, holding your arms out. that gets a smile out of him, and he leaps into action. he spends the next few hours waiting on you hand and foot, trying to keep his mind occupied while you wait for the babies. when the doctor finally says it's time, he does what you asked him to and stays by your side, ready to watch something magical happen.

despite having two babies, labor this time around is so much easier. you know it's all because of san. aside from waiting on your every need, just his presence is making this experience better. you can't believe you did this without him the first time. he's invested in every second, taking in every moment like he's never seen anything so spectacular. when the doctor says it's time for you to start pushing, you don't think you've ever seen him so happy. san stays by your side, holding a leg in place as you push. it's hell, but you make it through. it feels like forever, but before you know it, there's a baby about to come into the world.

"dad, you might want to watch this part," the doctor calls to san. he joins her, watching as the first baby is born. there are tears in his eyes as you hear the cries of a little baby, and you watch as they lift the squirming mess into the air.

"a girl," san breathes out. "our baby girl."

"hey ivy," you say softly, out of breath and voice hoarse. her little cries stop for a second, and you call her name again. she seems soothed by it, by your voice, so you keep talking to her as the nurses clean her up. it gives you a chance to breathe, to rest, and san rejoins you while keeping a stern eye on anyone touching his baby. they hand her to you first, and you hold her warmth close to your chest. san's hand cups her head before kissing it.

"hi ivy," he whispers. "i'm your dad."

"that's the annoying guy who sang to you every night," you whisper to the little baby, and san rolls his eyes.

"mommy liked it, don't listen to her," he whispers back. you could keep going, but the doctor's voice calls your attention.

"mom, are you ready to push again?" she asks, and you shake your head.

"one more minute," you whine, and she laughs.

"you know it doesn't work like that," she smiles. "you still have to meet your son."

"i'll take ivy," san says, scooping her tiny form into his big arms. he cradles her softly with so much love in his eyes. a nurse offers to take her, but he shakes his head vehemently. he hoists her into one arm and resets himself next to you, his strong arm holding your leg in place as the doctor instructs you to push again. soon you're holding your son, san next to you holding your daughter. the doctor and nurses have left to give you some time, but you jolt up in concern. san looks at you, scared, and asks, "what?! what's wrong? are you hurt?"

"where's violet? she needs to see the babies before they go to the nursery," you say, and immediately san is sliding ivy into your grasp. he runs into the waiting room, slowing his steps as he approaches jen and violet's sleeping forms. he kneels down in front of violet, stroking her hair softly to wake her up. she peeks an eye open, an eager look on her face when she sees her dad smiling in front of her.

"babies?" she asks, and all san has to do is nod before violet shoots out of her seat, bouncing in place as san takes her hand and leads you to your room.

"hey big sister," you greet her quietly. "c'mere." you scoot over in your bed, and san helps lift her into place. she leans over you with wonder in her eyes, her little hands clasped beneath her chin like she wants to touch them but is too afraid. "who do you wanna hold first?"

"ivy," she replies, then shakes her head. "no, oliver. no, both of them!"

"if you want to hold them both, then let daddy help you ok?" you ask her, and san lifts violet into his lap so he can sit next to you. he shows violet how to hold a baby by lifting oli into his arm, then passes him to violet. once she's got a good hold on her brother, san uses his legs to kind of cup violet in his grasp so she has enough support to hold ivy too. with the twins in her arms, she looks so proud. you and san watch her with stars in your eyes until violet's face screws up and you ask what's wrong.

"i think oli just farted on me," she scowls. "take him back."

"sugar, you're gonna have a hard time with the babies if you're grossed out by a little fart," you tell her.

"it wasn't little, it rumbled-"

"here, i'll take him," san laughs. he holds oliver while violet coos over ivy, and with your family happily by your side you slowly start to doze off. san notices when he hears you softly snoring, and he helps violet get up so they can place the babies in their cradles. san tells violet that the doctor needs to take the babies for a little bit, and he can take violet back out to the waiting room to go back to sleep if she wants.

"but i wanna stay with mommy," she pouts, looking just like you. it hits him then that while he's got two new babies, his first baby is growing up.

"alright," he concedes quickly, the exhaustion hitting him too. "you can get into bed with mommy. i'll go get the nurses so they can check on the babies."

when san comes back into the room, the emotions of the day hit him hard. he's got his family, finally. the babies are here, and his other babies are sound asleep, violet's little arms hugged tight around your neck. he walks around the bed, placing a kiss on violet's forehead and then yours. when he pulls back, he sees you staring at him, and he coos, "baby, you should be asleep."

"the boa constrictor woke me up," you joke, pointing to violet. "what are you doing?" you ask as you watch san settle in the uncomfortable hospital chair by your bed.

"i'm figuring out how to lay down," he answers, shuffling around, but you make a grabby hand for him. "baby, we can't all fit in that bed."

"yes we can," you say, holding onto violet and scooting to the far side of the bed. "see? san sized spot right here."

"you sure we'll be able to sleep like this?" he asks as he settles next to you anyway, your head finding its spot on his shoulder as you close your eyes.

"i could sleep on a bed of rocks as long as you're next to me," you mumble. "but if you're really uncomfortable-"

"no," san cuts you off, a blush warming his cheeks. "i'm good."

"good," you reply with a tired smile. "i love you, san."

"i love you more, y/n," he whispers into your hair, placing a kiss to the top of your head. "thank you for today. for our kids."

"thanks for having super sperm," you tease, and san pinches your hip in response.

"go to sleep, crazy lady."

life with san and your babies is bliss. yes, it's loud, it's exhausting, and your house is a mess, but you wouldn't have it any other way. san and violet love doting on the babies, and you love seeing your family so complete. every day though, san reminds you that it won't really be complete until you're married. sure, you've got the ring, but san keeps reminding you that there's a wedding to be planned. but with the babies, violet, your jobs, how are you supposed to add a wedding to all that?

you're trying to multitask, feeding the babies as you try to look at wedding venues on your phone. you've got oli on your chest, your shirt discarded beside you. you're at home, who cares if your tits are out? you've found a venue you like, so you're about to call for san when you look up to see him staring at you from the doorway.

"what are you doing?" you squint at him. "how long have you been standing there?"

"few minutes," he replies, staring at your chest.

"come on, stop," you blush. "you're embarrassing."

"and you're still hot," he finally pulls himself out of his trance. "need me to hold a baby? or a boob?"

"no, come look at this," you hand him your phone. "a venue for the wedding?"

"i like it," he nods. "is it nice enough though?"

"san, my love," you chuckle. "we can't get married in a castle."

"but you deserve it," he frowns, scrolling through the pictures more. "or maybe we make it into a trip? get married in the mountains?"

"or what if we elope and get it over with?" you groan, pulling oliver over your shoulder to burp him.

"get it over with?" san looks at you with concern in his eyes. he joins you on the bed, leaning over ivy to play with her hands as he continues. "i know we both want to get married as soon as possible, but i want you to have your dream wedding. when you were younger, what did you want your wedding to look like?"

"well if we're going by what i wanted as a kid, i'd be marrying prince eric from the little mermaid," you tease.

"is that why you always put that on for violet?" he looks back at you with fake hurt in his eyes.

"can we switch babies?" you ask. "ivy hasn't been fed yet."

"am i after her?" san jokes, and you kick him. "here you go," he says as he passes ivy to you. he takes oliver and starts bouncing him, getting happy giggles from your bundle of joy.

"don't shake him so hard he pukes," you warn san. "i don't want baby vomit on our bed."

"violet asked if she could sleep in the twin's room tonight, by the way," san looks at you. "she's obsessed with them."

"what did you tell her?"

"that the babies wake up a lot, so if she's in there she won't get any sleep," san explained. "but then she said she'd be just like us, so."

"what if we let her sleep in our room?" you offer.

"what about our alone time?" san pouts. "i had plans for tonight."

"what's gotten into you?" you laugh. "you're hornier than usual today."

"sorry if i wanna love on my wife," san mumbles.

"still not your wife, baby," you say as ivy finishes up. "since you don't wanna elope, we gotta wait."

"when you say elope, what do you have in mind? we run away in the middle of the night and get hitched?"

"kinda," you shrug. "that, or we go to the courthouse. we can get married now, have the wedding later."

"i'll think about it," san says. "but no prince eric at either one."

that night, you and san let violet sleep in your room. she lays cocooned between you both, clinging to the blankets as you and san take turns to check on the twins. it's the best sleep you've had in weeks, and you wake up to find san staring at you from across the bed. he winks when he catches you awake, that mischievous glint in his eyes that you love so much.

"what?" you ask. "is my bedhead bad or something?"

"no," he shakes his head. "i want to marry you today."

"what?" you ask again, sitting up. "you're crazy."

"you're the one that wanted to do it now!" san whines. "what made you change your mind?"

"what made you change your mind?" you ask. "i thought you wanted a wedding."

"i want to be married to you," san replies. "don't care how. i just want it to be soon. now. today."

"today?" you confirm, and san nods. "well, let's get the babies. and jen. and wooyoung! they can be our witnesses."

"why are you guys talking so much," violet mumbles between you. "it's early."

"vi, wake up," you tussle her hair and she groans.

"bug, we're getting married today," san whispers to her, and her eyes snap open.

"FINALLY!" she shouts, and you both laugh. "mommy, what dress are you wearing?"

that afternoon, you married the love of your life. it took you long enough, right? it was years in the making, but it didn't come a moment too soon. as you stood there, one baby in your arms, another wrapped in san's, with your beautiful daughter standing between you, you knew this was the wedding meant for you. you and san have created a life together that you've both always dreamed of. you wouldn't want it any other way.

as you leave the courthouse, you can't stop smiling. jen and wooyoung walk ahead of you, violet standing between them as she blabbers on about something. you and san are holding a baby each, your free hands intertwined. he looks at you smiling, a question on his lips.

"what next, mrs. choi?" he asks, and you shrug.

"whatever you want, mr. choi," you reply. "we've got nothing but time."

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