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gurugirl · 8 months

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Just For Tonight | Ch. 2

Series Summary: Harry spots an angel in the crowd and he can't keep his eyes off of her. And, as if by some cosmic pull, he can't help but ask her backstage. But it's only going to be just for tonight. Or is it?

Chapter Summary: Y/n's pretty sure she'll never see or hear from Harry again. They had a fun night but he made it clear that it was only just the once. Except Harry can't seem to follow his own rules.

Warning: 18+ only, smut

Word Count: 10,501

Commissioned by anon (thank you!! xoxo)

Just For Tonight Masterlist

Having a night with Harry Styles was like having one of those hot-girl secrets that only the most privileged were in on. But what that also meant was that she couldn’t really go talking all about it to everyone either.

She would have loved to have posted on Instagram all about it. Bragged about having seen his cock and then having it inside of her. She would have loved to have seen Dyna’s face when she told her that Harry Styles had eaten her out and spanked her. Dyna was one of those acquaintances in her friend group who was smug and pretty but rude. Thought her shit didn’t stink.

And well, she never would tell anyway. Not only would she never brag about what she’d done with someone during sex, but she wouldn’t want to betray anyone that way.

But it was kind of a bummer that she couldn’t talk about it all. Ady drilled her for information and Y/n had already decided that she’d only spill the details to her best friend, whom she could actually trust. Ady was a work friend at best. She trusted Ady, but not with that kind of secret.

All Ady knew was that Y/n had spent the night with Harry Styles. And when she arrived at the office on Monday morning, half of her co-workers had already heard about it.

“That’s why I didn’t give you details, Ady. You shouldn’t be saying anything to anyone.” Y/n replied as she bit into her sandwich. Ady was trying to extract more information from her.

“But I would never tell anyone those details, Y/n! Come on. Just give me something. Any tattoos we don’t know about? Is his dick as big as everyone thinks it is?”

Y/n rolled her eyes and stood up from her chair, tossing the crust of her sandwich into the garbage, and completely ignoring Ady on her way back to her desk.

After a few days, the gossip had died down and Ady had pretty much given up. Y/n was glad everyone had stopped talking about it and asking her uncomfortable questions.

And while on the outside it had appeared Y/n had moved on completely, on the inside she couldn’t stop replaying the night with Harry over and over again.

Especially when she was alone in her bedroom at night.

Y/n had a housemate. She lived in a two-bedroom bungalow with a microscopic backyard, street parking, and the tiniest closet known to man. And still, she could barely afford to make rent each month. But Brad was nice. And he allowed her to pay a little late sometimes. She didn’t often pay late. Maybe a handful of times over the year.

But it also helped that Brad had a bit of a crush on Y/n. She didn’t want to be that person but it came in handy in this case.

“I’m so sorry. I get paid next Friday and I’ll pay you first thing. Just didn’t keep track of my spending again this month.” It was slightly embarrassing. She wasn’t careless about how she spent her money but that month she had the Harry Styles concert, bought a hotel room (which she didn’t even sleep in), and spent a little extra on her cute new bodysuit. She had saved up her money but overspent just a tiny bit. Okay so maybe she was a little careless with her money at times. And she was getting too old to keep living paycheck to paycheck. It was time to start putting money away.

And she couldn’t do that with her current job and all the bills she had on top of that.

Y/n was going to have to find a second job. Anything so she could get her footing and pay off some loans, and then maybe she could breathe a little.

“No worries, Y/n. I’m good for it until then.” Brad smiled. She could tell he was getting tired of it, though. And for that alone, the embarrassment of having to ask if he could cover her part for a handful of days and to see his expression of pity and probably a little bit of annoyance, yeah. It was time to find a second job.

Her cousin was the floor manager at a posh, expensive restaurant downtown that Y/n would have never dreamed of stepping foot into. Not normally anyway. But there was a job opening for a server spot that her cousin had casually mentioned a week prior. She didn’t know if the position had been filled or not and if they would give her that prime weekend shift but there was only one way to find out.

“Y/n! Hi! How are you?” Laren answered chipper and sweet.

“Hi. Uh… good! How are you?”

Small talk commenced before Y/n finally got into the nitty gritty of why she was calling.

“Oh? The server position? It hasn’t been filled actually. We’ve been interviewing, though. You should come in and apply. I can put in a good word.”

The position was for two weekday nights and rotating a Sunday and Saturday every other week with a draw for the occasional Friday night (the coveted night to serve apparently). It wasn’t ideal but she figured she’d at least apply and see what happened.

Y/n had been a server in college so she was familiar with the work. It was hard, stressful at times, but tips could be good with the right tables.

And part of her didn’t want to waitress again. She was already working 40 hours at her office job. This would leave her with very little free time. But she needed to do something because every time she thought about how she was late on rent again it made her cringe and flush hot with embarrassment.

The interview process was fairly painless. And the fact that her cousin already worked there seemed to be in her favor because the very next afternoon she was getting a call to come back in to begin training. She’d gotten the position.

And it was just as hard as she imagined it would be. Shadowing one of the servers felt strange. She started on a Tuesday night since it would be a relatively slow night. Rushing from her office job to get home, changing into her uniform, and then racing through heavy traffic to get to the restaurant gave her a good idea of how it would be for her on the nights she worked during the weekdays.

Her past experience was a blessing. She only needed to shadow for two weeks before they started letting her have her own tables. Everyone on staff was easy to get along with on some level.

She did learn, though, that Vyra was upset that they were letting her take a weekend night shift so early on. Vyra was also a server who’d been at The Dulcería for a couple of years and wasn’t allowed weekend shifts until she’d been serving for a while.

“Tell them I’ll take your ten top tonight. I don’t think you’re quite ready for the level of service you’ll need to provide.” Vyra placed her tray down and faced Y/n as she spoke.

Y/n had just arrived at the restaurant for her first weekend evening shift by herself. She didn’t even know she had a ten top as she’d only just walked into the door.

“I… okay, well, let me at least put my stuff down. I’ll talk to Mannie and find out what he wants before I ask for that.” She was already annoyed. Not ready for the level of service… Just for that comment alone, Y/n was going to make sure she kept the table and was the best damn waitress that ten top could ever have that night.

“I’m telling you that it’s going to be better for you to just give me the table. We’ll switch off. They’re gonna be here all night.”

Y/n put her purse in the locker and turned to look at Vyra, “How do you know they’re gonna be here all night?”

“Because the reservation was very specific about how long they would be here. Probably someone famous honestly. Just tell Mannie you’re giving me your section.”

Sighing as she clicked the lock into place and tied her apron around her waist she shook her head, “We’ll see.”

Y/n checked the schedule for the night and realized, the only table that she was assigned was the ten top Vyra had mentioned. Which was interesting. Looking at the name on the reservation it didn’t ring any bells for her as to who could be in the party that would require her to stay with them all night but she knew she could take care of the table on her own. Even if they were famous and picky and maybe demanding. There were only ten of them. And it was her only table.

After the first two guests had arrived and were brought to the table by the hostess, Mannie signaled to her to greet them at the table and get some drinks started.

“You didn’t tell Mannie to let me take over. You didn’t even ask. I think it’s in your best int–“

“I’ve got it, Vrya. I appreciate your concern but I’m fine. Really,” she spoke as she neared the private area of the dining room where her table was.

“No. I don’t think you understand, Y/n. You’re new at this–“

Y/n stopped abruptly and Vrya nearly ran into her, “Stop. I’ve waited tables before. And Mannie wanted me to have this one. Just… go back to your tables and give it a rest.”

The pair at the table were dressed extremely casually, which was unusual for the restaurant. Most people entering the doors of The Dulcería wore designer and dressed appropriately in smart casual.

“Hi. I’m Y/n. I’ll be taking care of you tonight. Would you like me to get you started with anything? Wine for the table or appetizers for when everyone else starts to arrive?”

The young woman at the table ordered three bottles of wine to start and a handful of appetizers. Easy enough.

When Y/n returned to the private area with a cart full of wine and water she stopped in her tracks. More of the party had arrived but now she recognized two of them. She blinked her eyes and swallowed as she felt her heart rate pick up before pushing the cart forward again and closer to the table. She could be seeing things, she told herself.

As she neared the party she honed in on the man with his back to her with chocolate brown curls and broad shoulders. Was this…? It couldn’t be.

And yet she was sure it was. Based on the fact that she was looking right at Jeff Azoff and his adorable wife Glenne… She gulped as she parked the cart at the edge of the room and plucked up one of the bottles of red wine to uncork.

Carrying the bottle and a glass of wine toward the young woman who ordered it, she was suddenly aware that all eyes were on her as she turned the label side out toward her. But before she could pour a taste sample the young woman pointed at the man with his brown curls at the other end of the table, “It’s his to taste.”

She let out a quick breath to ground herself and closed her eyes for only a moment before turning to see those bright green eyes already on her. The big grin on his face told her he recognized her immediately. Of course he did.

She smiled, taking a step back, and slowly walked toward Harry to give him the first taste of the wine.

Pouring the liquid into the glass slowly as she stood to his left Harry finally spoke, “I didn’t know you worked here. How have you been?”

Okay. A standard greeting. Even that alone got her heart aflutter. She wasn’t sure if he’d act like he didn’t know her or if he’d greet her kindly. She would assume the latter but of course, one never knows in these circumstances.

“I’ve been well. This is actually a new job for me. And uh, how about you? How have you been?”

Harry sipped the wine and nodded, “S’good. Thank you. I’ll have a glass of this one,” he cleared his throat while she poured a serving for him, “And yeah… I’m great. Thank you. We should catch up soon,” he leaned in closer and finished his thought, “Kind of wish I’d gotten your number.” He spoke the last sentence a little softer so only she could hear.

For the duration of the dinner it was difficult to have any kind of real conversation with Harry while she was taking orders and running back and forth but each time she returned Harry made sure to get in a comment or ask her a question. She noticed the looks from a few of the people sitting around the table.

Heading back into the kitchen to grab their meals she noticed Vrya walking toward her side of the restaurant where the private dining room was. By then, all the servers heard about who was in the private dining room. Most didn’t make a fuss about it but a couple of them were curious.

With the tray loaded she delicately walked back toward her guests and spotted Vrya next to Harry and chatting. Technically Vyra wasn’t allowed to speak to guests at Y/n’s table unless she requested help. It wasn’t a big deal normally, but since Harry was a celebrity, a famous pop star, it would be frowned upon. This wasn’t some Deux Moi tell-all Sunday sightings gossip rag. This was a posh, upscale restaurant where wealthy people and celebrities came to enjoy a quiet meal without being disturbed or spotted. Mannie was not going to be happy about Vrya taking it upon herself to check on Y/n’s table. She couldn’t wait to talk to Laren about Vyra as well. She wished her cousin was there that night so she could vent but she’d be calling her about this later.

Placing the tray onto the stand Y/n frowned at Vrya as they made eye contact, “I was just seeing if everything was going well. Since you’re new and all,” Vrya laughed and looked down at Harry, “Plus having such a big star here we need to make sure service is perfect.”

Harry smiled at Y/n, “Y/n here been more than perfect. You’ve nothing to worry about. I’m sure we all agree,” he gestured toward everyone at the table, “we are in the most capable hands here. Couldn’t be happier.”

The fake smile on the intruder was telling as Y/n began to bring dishes around the table, “Thanks for checking in on me Vrya. It’s unnecessary, though. I’ll call on help if I need it.”

Standing up straight and nodding at Harry she walked behind Y/n and whispered, “His water glass is low,” and then exited the room.

Y/n had no idea what she’d done that would have Vyra acting like such a child. She was polite to Vrya but she really wanted to yank her hair out and shove her out the window for sticking her nose into business that wasn’t hers. But she figured she was better off ignoring the whole thing.

“So, Y/n…” one of the guys at the table spoke up, “We hear that you and Harry met at a recent concert. How did you enjoy the show?”

She felt her neck get hot as she fumbled with the notepad in her apron pocket, “Oh… it was awesome. Yeah. I gave him a pair of sunglasses that he wore that night on stage. That’s pretty much how we met. Brought a co-worker with me. A blast. It was the first concert I’ve been to.” She smiled and then quickly corrected, “First Harry Styles concert that is!”

The look on Harry’s face was cheeky. He was holding in an obvious grin on his face as he gazed at her. She was a nervous thing in this setting. Harry remembered quite well how sure of herself and confident she’d been that night. How she was practically dominating him, leading everything that happened. Mostly.

And even though he made it clear that what had happened was just for that night, he realized he’d been fantasizing about her a lot since then. In fact, every time he touched himself his thoughts made their way to Y/n just before he could come. He hadn’t even slept with anyone since. Not that he’d been holding out for her or anything. He had been thinking about her a lot, though. Missing her even. He was quite delighted that she was his server and that he happened to meet her once again. It felt like fate maybe.

And Harry was a big believer in fate and the universe shifting and creating space and paths for humanity. He was a believer in karma and destiny and intertwined lives. And so because of that Harry was sure this meant something.

When the restaurant was shut down and the servers were calling it a night, Y/n was clearing the table and refilling the last of the wine for everyone. She was told not to rush them, and she had no intention of doing so. She was enjoying the table. Everyone was polite and easy to please. There were no difficult requests or off-the-wall dietary restrictions.

Though Harry was particular with his order (the man was clearly eating strictly healthy which made sense given the state of his body, which she was quite acquainted with) it was easy to accommodate. Plus his presence had set her in a good mood. He was gentle and sweet and everyone in his party was the same.

And the way Harry kept looking at her, as if he knew something she didn’t somehow… a teasing grin, slightly stifled… she was all nerves and butterflies and big smiles. It had been an amazing night at work. It hardly felt like work at all.

Exiting the bathroom after a much-needed bladder release she walked up the hallway but was stopped short when she heard his voice, “What are you doing after you get off?”

His deep rasp had her tummy boiling as she turned and saw him leaning against the frame where the hallway met the corner of the entry to the kitchen. Stepping back toward him she looked up at his sharp green eyes and shook her head, “Going home.”

That smirk, the one that hid what he was really thinking deep down slowly widened until he was grinning full-on, “Where’s home?”

Looking behind her and then over his shoulder to make sure no one was nearby she squinted her eyes at him, “Why do you want to know?”

Harry sighed and softened his stance, putting his arms down to his sides, “Because. I was gonna ask a follow-up question and figured it might be important to know if my place is closer or yours.”

She let out a soft laugh in surprise and now her ears were growing warm, “At this hour… A fifteen-minute drive away.”

Harry nodded and reached a hand out to her apron, pulling gently at the bow, “Got it. Would you be interested in having me over tonight?”

Cocking her head and keeping her eyes squinted in scrutiny she responded, “And why would you want to come over to my place?”

She felt like this was obvious. She could have answered this question on her own. But she wanted to hear it from him. Wanted to be sure she was on the same page as him.

He leaned in and lowered his voice, keeping a finger looped into her apron’s bow, “Seeing you tonight has reminded me of how much fun we had. I know I said it was only a one-time thing but maybe we could make it a two-time thing,” he smiled broadly and shrugged.

Harry was a confident guy. He wasn’t typically turned down. In fact, on the rare occasion he was turned down it usually had nothing to do with him. So he was pretty sure Y/n would be happy to have him. But even as sure of himself as he felt, he was feeling his nerves peak at the idea she would say no.

“A two-time thing. Okay… well I do have a roommate. His bedroom is connected to the wall next to mine. Privacy is an issue. If you’re okay with that then I’d say… sure.”

Harry let out a laugh through his nose, though it was more out of relief than due to anything being funny, “What makes you think I want to be in your bedroom? Maybe I just wanted to stop by for a movie. Or we could bake cookies or something.”

Harry laughed at the obvious nonsense he’d just spewed. They both knew what this was.

“Oh? So you want to like watch a movie and bake some shit? I’m down with that. I don’t think I have the ingredients to make cookies or anything but I’m sure we could stop somewhere and grab flour–“

Harry pinched at her hip and stepped in close, “I was kidding…”

Now it was Y/n’s turn to laugh before she straightened her back as much as possible and put on a serious face. With his proximity, she was bent slightly back to look up at him, “You were? So you mean you don’t want to bake cookies with me?”

Harry’s grin and his hands at her hips were soft, “I don’t want to bake cookies with you. I want to get you in bed again.”

Well okay. There it was. She knew that’s what it was but to hear him say it out loud had her head spinning and her heart pounding.

She nodded, “Right. So… how do we do it? You want me to drive or…?”

Harry shook his head with a laugh, “Give me your number.”

. . .

Harry and his crew left before Y/n did. She’d given him her number and he texted her back right away. It was surreal. Just like how she felt the first time she met him. She almost didn’t believe it was happening.

Vyra was cold for the rest of the night but after the huge tip left, Y/n could understand why. Harry’s table had been her only table of the night. Her shift was only four hours but they stayed the entire time. She figured Vyra knew that some celebrities tipped well and wanted in on that.

In fact, the tip had been so big she had to sit down when she realized the number written in the tip line with a small smiley face next to it. She’d have a talk to Harry about this. It was far more than necessary. Even after splitting the tips up between the kitchen and the bussers in the system, it left her with enough money to cover rent and all her bills for a month. Yeah. Excessive.

She texted Harry the minute she parked her car in front of her house. It was well after midnight. She wasn’t sure he’d actually come, still in disbelief about it all. The fact that he was there and that she was assigned to that table felt like pure luck. Fate if you believed in that kind of thing. Which she didn’t. Not normally anyway.

His return text came back quickly.

On my way.

Quickly showering off her sweat and the smell of cooked food then shaving her legs she tried to calm herself down. The night with Harry in the hotel room she’d been perfectly groomed and ready for anything that might happen. Not that she expected it that night, but one never knows. Going to a Harry Styles concert and having the chance to catch his eye wasn’t something she’d half-ass. She never in a million years would have thought he’d have pointed her out while he was singing and then proceed to bring her back to his suite. But he did.

And this evening, she wasn’t fully groomed but smooth legs and clean bits were the least she could offer in such a short amount of time. She laughed to herself as she thought about it all. Wondered if he’d even care if she was a little sweaty. She wasn’t going to chance it.

When he texted that he was out front she took a few deep breaths and looked in the mirror one last time just to be sure before dashing to the front door as quietly as possible (so as not to wake Brad) to let the famous pop star into her small, rented bungalow.

She gestured to Harry with a finger to keep quiet, “My roommate is sleeping. Do you need water? The bathroom?”

Harry’s grin revealed that he needed only one thing. And neither had anything to do with what she’d just offered.

“I take it no baking cookies, then?”

They grinned at each other as she led him to her room.

Her bedroom was cute. She had cream curtains that draped down to the floor, a wooden dresser with a framed photo of Y/n with her family atop, a coaster from a local bar, a box that appeared to be a jewelry case, and a carton of tissues. Her bed was made and the comforter looked fluffy with a pretty pink and yellow flower pattern all over it. Framed prints of plants and flowers on her walls and a standing lamp in one corner. A closed door, which was definitely hiding a closet behind. A nightstand on either side of her bed.

“Cute,” Harry spoke as he looked everything over and then brought his gaze back to the woman he’d been fantasizing about since their last night together.

“Yeah. Uh… this is it.” She shrugged and felt her tummy warm up under his scrutiny. He was staring at her and she knew he was there for one thing only.

Sitting on her bed she sighed and attempted to lighten the mood, “So… that tip was way too big, Harry. I can’t possibly accept such a thing. I don’t think–“

Harry shushed her as he sat down and took her hand in his, “Nonsense. You are an amazing server and deserve every penny of that. Probably more even.”

His light eyes were scalding. Every inch of skin he took in she felt sizzle.

“Thank you. Just feels weird. Especially now that you’re here…” she laughed quietly.

“Now that I’m here? What do you mean?” His fingers wound into hers, his thumb moving along the edge of her hand. Such an innocent gesture, giving her goosebumps. Though she was well aware his intentions weren’t innocent.

“I mean… Like you just gave me a bunch of money and now you’re in my bedroom,” she smiled and tried to maintain eye contact but it was hard with how gorgeous he was.

“This is separate from that, Y/n. You should know that. I just missed you which is why I wanted to come here. You’re just really good,” he looked at the bed and then back to her, “You know… in this setting.” He grinned wide.

“In this setting?” She laughed at his words and shook her head.

The grin dropped from Harry’s face as he brought his free hand up to cup her jaw, “Can I kiss you? I missed these lips so much. I’ve been thinking of them since that first time with you.”

Nodding her head she felt him pull at her thigh just as his lips found hers.

Things had shifted since the last time she saw him. Somehow it felt a little different. Maybe more intimate in some way. It was probably because they were in her bedroom rather than a hotel suite, and this was the second time they’d be seeing each other in this context. But there was something else there too. She was feeling… less sure of herself. She still had the confidence she needed to kiss him back and unbutton his shirt, but unlike last time when she was feeling very forward, this time something kept her slightly reserved.

And Harry noted her softer demeanor. He didn’t mind it, though. In fact, this time he was feeling like he wanted to show her how good he could be. Give her a taste of him taking the lead and maybe have her begging him a bit. He was in a bit of a mood that night. He was glad that he saw her in the restaurant because it’d been a month since he’d gotten laid (and it just so happened the last person he’d had sex with was Y/n) and she was the only girl he could think of that would scratch the itch he had.

Y/n was pressed back into the mattress as Harry pulled her sweatpants off, “Do you want to feel good, Y/n?”

She nodded and puffed a laugh out, “Well… yeah…” She thought that was an obvious answer and the way she responded told Harry she was mocking him.

Harry paused the movements of his hands as he stuck his fingers into her panty’s waistband. He cocked his brow up at her in warning before he popped her thigh with a smack. She laughed and sat up with her mouth dropped open in surprise.

“Behave. I was just asking a question. Wanna try that answer again?”

She swallowed and blinked her eyes, “Yes, Harry. I want to feel good.” She smirked at him. Her answer was still lined with cheek but he’d give her a pass. He wanted to see her.

He smiled and nodded before proceeding to pull her panties down her legs, “Good. Because that’s what we’re here for. To feel good. Take your shirt off for me.”

Y/n was relieved that Harry seemed to pick up where she was lacking. She didn’t know what had her feeling so permissive but they seemed to be on the same page. She peeled her shirt off over her head and Harry spread her legs apart, fitting himself in between her thighs.

He was still mostly dressed. His shirt was unbuttoned and his jeans were undone. Both Y/n’s doing, but that was as far as it had gone with getting him out of his clothes before he stopped her and began to tell her he was going to get her naked.

“Can you take your bra off too? Need it all off.” He waved his hand toward her chest as he directed his sight to the space between her thighs. It felt so vulnerable to have him clothed while she was naked. But she did as he said and removed her bra for him.

The dim lamp in her room kept everything visible. Harry could tell she was already a bit wet. The gleam peeking out from her labia had his tummy on fire. He couldn’t wait to feel her again. Slip his cock right in and drive into her. He imagined he’d need to keep her mouth covered while he was fucking her to keep her quiet because he recalled how loud she was the first time they’d been together.

But before he could indulge himself in feeling the juicy stretch of her around him, he was determined to have her come in his mouth and on his fingers first. She didn’t orgasm when he ate her out the last time and that was something that stuck with him. He had nowhere to be the following morning and given that it was a Sunday he figured she was free as well so they could play for a lot longer this time around. Not that that stopped them from having a good romp and then a quick fuck in the morning the last time, but he planned to take his sweet time with her now.

He smoothed his hands up her thighs and licked his lips, “I’m gonna lick your pretty pussy until you come and then if you’re still well behaved maybe I’ll let you taste my cock for a bit before I fuck you. How’s that sound?”

She nodded and moaned softly, “Mmm… That sounds so good.”

Harry smiled and pressed his thumb over her clit and gently began to rub back and forth, “It does doesn’t it? I missed this with you, angel. Can’t believe I thought it was just going to be the one time. Seems as though fate had a different idea.”

She scrunched her brows and an ooh feel from her mouth at the feel of his thumb on her clit and his soft words.

Harry leaned over her body, the fabric of his shirt dragging over her tummy as he dipped down to wrap his mouth around her pebbled nipple. She craned her neck back into the soft pillow and sighed at the feel of him on her. His lips on her breast and his thumb on her wet nub.

By the time he’d licked and sucked the expanse of both of her breasts, she was completely on edge. On fire. His teasing thumb gently rolling her clit back and forth was making her lose it.

“Fuck… please, Harry,” she whispered as she stuffed her fingers into his hair. He lifted off her breast and looked up at her, “What is it, angel? Please what?”

“I just… I want you to fuck me. Now.”

Harry sat back onto his haunches and looked at where his hand was at her pussy. All wet and shiny for him, “What did I say?” He looked back into her eyes, “Don’t you remember what I said I was gonna do first?”

She let out a shaky breath, “I do. I just thought you could skip it if you wanted. Really want to feel you again.”

He kept his thumb working her clit as he groaned, “I want to feel you too. But I have to have a go at you first. Want to put my mouth right here,” he slid his thumb upward and pressed down, “and make you come.”

Her tongue poked out from her lips as she kept her mouth parted. Heavy lids and wiggly hips.

Harry loved the way she looked. Like she was ready for whatever was to come. She was desperate for him and he already had her saying please. He loved a little begging when he could get it.

“Little tongue coming out to say hello,” he reached forward and pressed his finger onto her pink muscle and she immediately wrapped her lips around his digit. His own mouth dropped open at her desperation. Her tongue pressed into the pad of his finger and she sucked him in.

“Shit, angel. I’m gonna make you feel so fucking good. Okay? Don’t worry.”

He felt her lift upward into his hand and he got the hint. She needed something.

Pulling his finger out of her mouth and taking his hand from her pussy he pulled his shirt off over his shoulders and knelt down, pressing his fingers through her crease, coating his digits in her slippery essence.

He looked up at her face as he plunged two fingers into her hole and then lowered his mouth over her cunt and she bellowed loudly before putting her arm over her mouth to keep herself quiet. She’d have to keep herself in check with the noises but her concern about Brad being right next to her room was slowly dissolving.

Harry chuckled into her labia as his tongue slipped up and down, lapping at her arousal.

It was soft but every time he puckered his lips and ran his tongue up and down her clit she felt a spark lighting up her insides.

Her moans were muffled under her arm. But she was so wet that everything in her room sounded exactly like what was happening. Harry’s lips and tongue and fingers moved through her wet labia and creamy arousal and she wished she could record the sounds to listen to later.

Harry’s heart was pounding in his chest and he curled his fingers and dragged the tips along her soft ridges on the inside. He flattened his tongue over her clit and slurped before quickly sweeping his tongue back and forth. Her little squeak was a good sign. He smiled.

When he felt her fingers in his hair, pulling gently she began to roll her hips into his face. He lifted up to take a look at her as much as he could with her fingers on his head. She was gorgeous. Her wet pussy was smeared all over his face, her tits swayed softly as she arched and writhed, her hair was splayed out across her pillow, soft thighs parted.

Then he noticed the way she was fucking herself down onto his fingers. Her hips began to move faster and her pathetic mewls were falling muffled from her mouth.

Harry lowered his lips back to her pussy and she sighed in relief. But he only applied a sloppy kiss to her mound before looking back up at her. He moved his free hand up her body and pushed her arm off her face, tilting his head up to speak, “Keep your eyes on me, angel. You can be a good girl stay quiet. I know you can,” he pumped his fingers into her as he spoke against her pussy in hot breaths.

She adjusted her body slightly, using the pillow to help keep her neck angled so she could watch him. To keep her eyes on his. She gasped and tried to stifle her moans as she watched him dig in with his whole face.

His pretty green eyes were mostly pupil, dark with only the edges of crystal green surrounding. She put her other hand into his hair and cradled the back of his head. The hand he wasn’t using to finger her had her thigh held down, his fingers pinching into her soft skin.

But then he used his tongue to move quickly back and forth over her clit while thrusting his fingers deep, curling into the right spot. And there was something about his eyes watching her that made her flush hot. His steady gaze seeped into her brain and wrapped itself around all those bits that supplied dopamine and caused a craving that would be hard to shake.

His fingers were stuffed so deep inside of her that she knew he must be getting his knuckles drenched. Probably his whole hand given how wet everything sounded. The bend of his fingers inside of her and the pressure on her clit, when he sucked her, pulled a loud groan from her lungs. But it didn’t stop him from continuing the sloppy lapping and slurping.

Pulling his hair tighter between her fingers she bucked her hips into his face and tried to close her legs slightly by instinct. Harry kept her one thigh pressed down hard and he used his shoulder to hold her other side down.

She cried out, “Oh god!” And threw her head back, removing her eyes from Harry’s just as she felt the spark turn into a harsh current that began to tip her into the edge of her orgasm. She knew it had been too loud. Knew that it might have woken up her housemate but she was too far away from caring about that just then. Her pussy was being snacked on in a way she’d never experienced in her life.

Harry dug himself in deeper when he could tell she was close. Her loud cry and the quiver of her thighs were a good sign. He kept at what he was doing and looked up at her soft tits as she arched her back and moaned his name.

When she began to clamp down on his fingers and her moans moved into a steady stream of whining and whimpering and her muscles tensed he knew he’d gotten her to come finally. He allowed her to have her eyes closed because he could tell it was intense. He’d have her watching him next time he made her come on his cock.

Which reminded him of what sort of state he was in. His hard dick was painfully achy. But the anticipation for what was to come had him reeling as he licked her through to her end, keeping his fingers inside of her, working her until she slowed her hips and loosened the grip on his curls.

He sat back, grabbing her hands from his hair, and looked over his handiwork. Her pussy was ready to be fucked. She was ripe for more. He knew she’d be good for another orgasm. Her body was made for this.

When she finally opened her eyes she giggled as he leaned over her frame. His face was all wet. His chin, his cheeks, and his nose were shiny with her. She followed him with her eyes as he climbed over her.

Somewhere in between her coming and right then, he’d removed his pants and boxer briefs. His cock hung heavy over her face, “Open.”

She was flat on her back as she opened her mouth for him, reaching a hand up to grasp the base of his cock to guide him to her mouth. She felt his warm tip against her lip, the smear of his precome and her slippery arousal wetting the edge of her mouth before she wrapped her lips around him.

The groan he let out was the sound of pure sex. She had barely done a thing but she was already smiling to herself at the way she made him whine.

Harry held onto the headboard with one hand and used his other to grasp the back of her head as he pushed himself down into her throat. He’d only dip in a few times. Make her swallow and gag around him once her twice because he wanted to fuck her. Wanted to feel her again.

She closed her eyes when Harry’s tip dragged against the back of her throat. He pumped himself into her a few times and she swallowed as she gagged around him. The whimper he let out made her brain swirl. She was thoroughly enjoying having her throat fucked. He wasn’t going in too hard but he was taking control of her and dipping in until she was coughing and drooling.

He pulled himself out and looked down at her, moving his hand up to her cheek with a grin, “My god, angel. Just so fucking perfect.”

She was still catching her breath. From her orgasm, from having his cock in her throat, from the intensity of the moment…

She could hear him ripping the condom wrapper open before he was back in view. He sat between her legs on his haunches as he softly moved his palms over her thighs and up to her hips, “Gonna give me another one? Come on cock this time?”

She planted her gaze on his and nodded, “Yes…” her words were a whisper.

The cheeky grin Harry returned to her had her heart fluttering. He was so painfully attractive she felt like this was all a dream.

“Good. Need you to keep your eyes on me this time, okay?” He paused as she nodded, “Want to watch your face when I make you come. Might have to cover your mouth if you get too loud like you just were. Is that okay?”

Another quick nod and a moan told him she was on board.

Harry moved his hands up her sides, pressing his fingers into her soft skin and up to her breasts, kneading at them for a moment before lining himself up to her hole, “Look at me.”

They kept their eyes locked as he slowly pressed in past her tight opening. Harry knew that if they went without a condom he might come inside of her and not want to pull out. If she felt as good as she did with a condom, he knew he’d be falling in love and down on one knee if he felt her without.

Her puffy, juicy pussy was taking him in just as he remembered. He had to work himself in and out a bit before he finally got himself into her balls deep. He would have loved to tuck himself in further but he was halted from his thick, full balls.

“Feel that, angel?” He groaned quietly as she nodded nodded in gasps. “Yeah? It’s so fucking deep, isn’t it? Love the way you spread open for me,” he rocked into her and pulled back, listening to the slick sounds it made.

He put his palms on the mattress with his body leaned over hers, using his strong back and thighs to fuck into her as deep as he could. He just wanted to be stuffed inside of her guts, fucking into her as far as humanly possible. And she felt that too. It was deep. The sharp ache made her keen but the drag of his pelvis against her clit felt otherworldly.

Her thighs were pushed back, bent at the knee as Harry laid himself into her over and over again. Thick, deep, languid strokes.

“Ahhhh!” She cried when he smacked into her, pushing her upward slightly.

Harry groaned and kept his eyes on hers, “Yeah? It’s that good, huh? Gonna have to cover your mouth now because I’m about to go a little harder.” She wanted harder. Liked soft too, but hard stuck around for days. Loved the feeling of having her pussy fucked so good she was reminded of it later on. Just like the first time they were together. She felt him every time she sat down or stood up for two days. Felt the leftover ache on her thighs and the burn on her bottom.

Harry angled himself down, pushing her thighs apart further with one hand and covering her mouth with his other. And his sudden punishing thrusts had her eyes going wide. It hadn’t been expected so quickly but he got right to it.

He could feel the vibrations of her moans against his palm as he buried himself in and pulled back to his tip before he hammered back into her repeatedly. Long, deep, fast strokes.

She was already rolling her eyes into the back of her head. He wanted her to watch him but he’d give her a small break and make her open them when she was coming. He wanted to watch her face and her eyes as she reached her peak.

Her bed creaked and the springs danced loudly. Muffled sounds of moans and the wet slap of skin filled her bedroom. Harry didn’t necessarily want her roommate to hear them but he did enjoy all the noises that came with sex. And in all honesty, they were both being as quiet as possible given how hard he was fucking her.

His thighs burned from the thrusts and his back muscles held himself steady over her, “Listen to that, angel. Our bodies connecting like that. How wet you are for me…” he moaned his words as he watched her face screw up in ecstasy. Her muted noises were stifled with his palm as he wrecked her insides.

She felt every inch of him taking her. Every slip and thrust, drag and pull, every deep nudge inside… She opened her eyes to see him already looking down at her and she nearly lost it. His hair was in his face, curls swaying, sweat building at his temples, his arms were flexing as he held himself up over her, his chest flushed and glistening from the intensity of his thrusts into her. He was so strong and so overpowering she felt like a rag doll under him flopping and grunting under his hand. She was just a hole to fuck as she clenched down on him when he pasted his hips to hers and rocked inward sharply.

“Keep those eyes open, angel. I can tell you’re about to come on my cock and I need you to look at me so you know who’s making you come,” he spoke his words through gasped breaths as he pushed into her deeply, slowing his thrusts so he could control his own orgasm. He was too close and he knew she was nearly there.

He rocked his hips into hers he ground himself down when he stuffed himself in fully, making sure her clit was being smushed against for friction. Repeatedly he fucked her little hole with slow plunges and smoothed against her clit. Every time he screwed into her to the hilt he felt his balls pressing into her bum, being wetted by her creamy arousal. He keened at the feel of her around him. Every little ridge of her insides taking him in like they were made for that very thing had him spinning.

Harry removed his hand from her mouth. He wanted to see her whole face as he fucked into her. Wanted to watch her mouth drop open as she creamed on his cock when she came, wanted to hear her cries, fuck anyone else that might hear. In that moment it was all about his angel and how good she was feeling. All he cared about was that she was being taken care of and that he was making her feel as good as she deserved.

“Harry, please… oh my god please…” she gasped as she clung tight to his back. His cock inside of her felt full and had her walls tingling and fluttering. She was reeling with pleasure and having him inside of her. Never wanted that feeling to go away. If she could bottle it up and take it with her she would. So she tried to stave off her orgasm for a moment longer.

“Begging me, baby? Want to come so bad don’t you? But it feels so good like this doesn’t it?” He used a hand to hold the side of her face as if he were being gentle with her. As if he wasn’t fucking into her deep with harsh ruts inward that had her gasping for air. His words and his soft touches and his hard cock were doing her in.

She tried. She really did. She wanted to have him fucking her like that for hours but she couldn’t hold on any longer. She began to moan, starting with a low, quiet sound, until she was crying out his name and shaking under him.

She kept her eyes open but found the task difficult as she started to come. And she realized that watching Harry while she came only intensified her orgasm. Her head swirled with his handsome face hovering over hers, looking directly at her as he made her come felt like she was being dominated in a way that she’d never experienced. He hadn’t tied her up or whipped her or anything like that, but it was the sensation of being watched while she was coming that made her feel like he was taking control. The experience of having the man who was making her come as he looked down at her at that moment felt like he’d claimed her as his. He was watching his own work come to fruition and it was a dominant act.

“Fuck, angel. Just like that. Come all over me. She me how good it feels.”

Y/n babbled an unintelligible response and moaned around her syllables and vowels. She didn’t know what she was saying as she forced her eyes to stay on his.

And it had been worth it to keep her eyes open when she saw Harry’s face pinch up and his mouth drop open. She could hear his groan and the harsh thuds into her cunt before he stilled and clenched his teeth as his cock throbbed inside of her. He was coming and she got to see it on the tail end of her own orgasm and it was the hottest thing she’d ever seen.

“Ahhh!” He panted as he sucked in a deep breath and choked out a loud moan. The release was heaven. He came so hard he wondered if it could be possible to leak out of his condom. He pumped and throbbed and worked himself to his end as he looked down at the pretty angel under him all fucked out and smiley on his cock.

His chest heaved as he twitched the last little bit and his features relaxed on the comedown. He kept himself over her as he began to smile, “You okay?”

She was melted below him, a soft smile on her lips as she nodded, “So fucking good. Oh my god…” she whispered.

Harry gently pulled himself off of her and checked to verify that he hadn��t in fact leaked out of his condom before pulling it off and tossing it onto the floor. He’d deal with the cleanup later. In that moment he needed to hold her and kiss her for a while.

She felt her body pulled against his and then his lips caressing over hers. Soft and reassuring. Her orgasm had been intense. Maybe the most incredible orgasm she’d ever had. The eye contact was something she hadn’t expected. She thought it would feel silly. At first, it made her feel vulnerable but when she could tell how much he needed it, needed her eyes on his it felt like a rush. Adrenaline coursed through her veins and she came so hard.

She kissed him back and put her hands up to his shoulders. Lazy and soft and sweet.

Harry pushed his nose into hers and spoke softly, “That was really, really good, Y/n. You don’t mind if I stay the night here, do you?”

Shaking her head she scraped her nails against the nape of his neck, “I want you to stay. Please.”

. . .

Waking up in her bed with Harry next to her felt like a wild fantasy. She considered pinching herself as she fluttered her eyes open and saw his sleeping face smushed into her pillow. The night before he’d been a sex god. A man so fine with a masculine and well-muscled body that he made her mouth water and her clit throb. He’d fucked her so good and it was so hot it gave her goosebumps just thinking about it. But there he was lying in her bed asleep, pink lips and glossy eyelids, small puffs of breath coming from his nose, and adorably messy hair. She couldn’t quite wrap her brain around how he went from the man who took control of her the night before to the soft, cute, sleeping beauty the very next morning.

He asked if he could stay. Said he wanted to be with her a little longer. And that was the part that really stuck with her. Sure he was handsome and then some. They got along so well and everything felt so compatible with him. And that was a problem. Because he wasn’t just some guy. This was Harry Styles. She couldn’t go getting her feeling too mixed up in everything. But he made it hard with the way he treated her and handled her. Like they’d known one another for an eternity.

On their first night together it was clear that what they were doing was just something fun and that was it. Which she was fine with. She happily accepted his terms then. Just as she happily said yes to him staying the night this time. Whatever he wanted she was fine with it. Well, she hoped she’d be fine. Because she was sure he’d never get his feelings mixed up with sex when it came to her.

Gently putting her fingers into his hair she saw his eyelids move and then slowly he graced her with his gorgeous eyes and then a soft smile.

He didn’t say anything before he dragged her the short distance to rest her head on the pillow his head was on and kissed her.

And it went from a quiet soft morning make out to Harry’s erection poking into her hip and then scrambling for a condom with messy hair and soft sighs to a slow break of day fuck.

The springs in her bed bounced gently with every thrust of his hips. Harry kept his mouth glued to hers as he drove into her soft, wet pussy. All of her blankets had been kicked to the floor in a rush for the condom and switching positions on the bed and now it was just two bodies at the center finding relief and catching an early orgasm before their day began.

Harry rocked into her, his cock so hard and thick she felt every single inch of him moving into her and slipping back before he languidly pushed in until his hips met hers. She had her ankles crossed over his back and Harry had one hand cradling the back of her head, his mouth covering hers while his other forearm kept himself held up slightly, his chest against hers.

She gasped under him, reaching for breath every time he thrust into her. His own panting grew more desperate and soon the first sound of his voice was heard for the day, a whimpered moan falling from his throat as he felt her walls taking him in with a decadent squeeze and wet squelch.

Morning sex was always Y/n’s favorite, but it turned out it was Harry’s too. It was less fussy really. Just two tired bodies wanting to connect and feel pleasure in the golden morning light. No preamble or big to-do. Just soft morning sex and a delicious orgasm to get the day started off right.

The moment Y/n’s moan grew loud and Harry felt her cunt spasming and pulling him in deeply he let go, spurting into his condom and licking into her mouth as he throbbed in ecstasy.

And just like the night before and the first night she’d spent with him, she was amazed. Maybe it was the shape of his cock or their natural chemistry. Or maybe it was just Harry, but somehow the sex with him was beyond just good sex. She was going to be haunted by this man.

When he pulled out he held her thighs apart and lapped at her gently, just for a taste. Just to enjoy one more little squeal from her throat, which she immediately gifted him.

“Harry stop! I’m too sensitive!” She pushed at his forehead and he smiled up at her before collapsing onto the bed next to her.

He hated navigating relationships because being famous already put his life under a microscope. Most of the time it wasn’t worth it to keep seeing someone for sex unless it was a person he knew feelings would never be a problem with, and they could both have the understanding that it was just sex. But that was rare for him. Harry was all or nothing with sex usually. It was either a one-time deal or he’d want a long-term committed relationship. And the latter was complicated for someone with his lifestyle. His last long-term relationship was something he’d take with him forever. He considered it a lesson learned. And for him that meant needing to be very picky and selective about whom he let into his heart.

No more mixing business with pleasure and then taking on the guilt of having a public break-up. No more women with super complicated lives that he could get mixed up into.

He felt like he was treading dangerously with Y/n. He didn’t want to hurt her and he didn’t want to get himself hurt either. But he could see himself being with someone like her. He liked her spice and her straightforward demeanor. She was confident and funny. She wasn’t the type that he’d be able to keep his feelings separated from the sex with. He was already getting attached.

“What?” He asked her. She was lying next to him, they were sharing a pillow and she had a small smirk on her face as she gazed over his features.

“Nothing. It’s stupid,” her grin didn’t fall off her face.

Harry brought a hand up to her jaw and he thumbed gently toward her temple, “Tell me. I like stupid sometimes,” he laughed.

She bit her lip and looked away from him for a few moments before putting her eyes back on his, “Your song, Watermelon Sugar. It’s about cunnilingus?” Her smile widened feeling ridiculous asking him such a question but she couldn’t get it out of her mind. Ever since the night before when he made her come from eating her out (a rarity for her) and then that morning after they’d had sex when he went in for a quick lick.

Harry laughed and nodded, “I guess. Yeah. Why?”

“Cause you just seem to really like it.”

Harry took in a deep breath and moved his hand down her side, “I love it. Is that okay?”

She looked at him like he was crazy, “Of course it is. Very much so.”

She wasn’t ready to say goodbye. Harry had been fun and sweet. And to know that this famous man could have anyone he wanted yet he chose to spend the night with her felt like something quite special. Something she wouldn’t get the chance to do ever again. To have him in bed at all was a crazy notion. But to have it happen twice?

“I want to see you again. When I get back to LA in a couple of months. Is that okay?” He said as he pulled her in for a hug before they left her bedroom. His car was waiting for him.

His words shocked her. Again?

“Oh. Yeah… Sure. That would be fun.” She was surprised. Stunned. If he wanted to see her again what did that mean? Was he thinking of her as more than just someone to have sex with?

“Well, geez. You don’t sound very enthusiastic about it,” he laughed as he pulled back from the hug.

Shaking her head she grinned, “Just didn’t expect you to want to see me again. You’re gonna be gone for months. I mean… I’d love to. Of course. But you know… No pressure.”

“Of course, there’s no pressure. I’m just saying I’d like to see you again if you’re free when I return to LA. That’s all.”

Letting out the breath she’d held in she nodded, “Yes, Harry. I’d really like that.”

Harry smiled softly and put a hand up to her face to press his palm over her cheek as he looked her over, “Gonna miss you, angel. Wish I could take you with me.”

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whocaresstillthelouvre · 1 month

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Down Bad - A Joel Miller Drabble

Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Pairing: Pre Outbreak Joel Miller x Female Reader Word Count: 800 Summary: You get ghosted after a one night stand with your handsome neighbor. Warnings: Drinking, smut remembrance, angst. A/N: Happy Tortured Poets Department release day! Thank you to @beskarandblasters for the amazing Taylor Swift Drabble Challenge AGAIN. I previously wrote Paper Rings for it. TBH, I stayed up until 3:30 AM listening to TTPD last night with @ohheypedrito and your girl is STRUGGLING TODAY, but well worth it. What an album.

Masterlist

One night out with your friends, one shared glance, one half smile, one opportunity, one drink bought, one phone number drunkenly tapped into his phone.

One date, one heated make out session in his truck, one moment of being heaven struck, one naked body left alone in your bed as he quietly leaves without a word.

One text telling him you had a good time, one week since you’ve heard from him, countless hours of yearning for your neighbor.

Across the street and two houses to the left, Joel Miller lives. Well manicured lawn, cute daughter who goes door to door selling Girl Scout cookies, large truck parked out the front dinged and well used.

You’ve been down bad for him since you first moved in, a quick introductory hello and wave one early morning as you took your dog for a walk, how could you be so attracted to a total stranger?

That stranger ignoring you from that moment on, leaving you feeling nuts. Sometimes you’d take your dog for a walk when you’d notice him mowing the lawn, sneaking a glance under your sunglasses, watching the sweat make his skin glisten. Teenage crush vibes, teenage petulance coming out because you can’t have him or his attention.

You never see him with another woman there, only his loud, precocious brother Tommy who stops to talk with you whenever you’re outside. You know he likes you, but you’re too drawn to his older brother’s beam to even want to lead him on.

That night shared between the two of you, it almost feels like an evil experiment. He fucked you, fucked you hard, stared into your eyes as he came all over you, devoured your cunt as if he was starving, made you cum so hard it felt like you were floating in a cosmic cloud of sparks, then he left you naked and alone. He owned your body, like it was some sort of hostile takeover.

You’re barely even sure it happened, like if you speak about the existence of that night, everybody will tell you it never happened, that you’re nuts.

Why did he leave you like that? Why did he strand you the way he did? Why can’t you have him? Why cant you have an us?

Doesn’t he know what you would do for his attention? How you feel like you could just die when you think back to that night? You’re pathetic for him, isn’t it romantic?

You replay the words he uttered against your skin as he fucked you. “You feel so fucking good, like you were made for me.”

The taste of your sweat against your lips makes you almost want to cry as you try to run the thoughts of him away on the treadmill at the gym. The last time you sweat like this his cock was stretching you, his hand holding your cheek, his tongue languidly licking into your mouth.

——

After a night of staring at the ceiling, sleep not visiting you, tossing and turning not being able to get the thought of the weight of his body against yours, you decide to sit out on your porch with coffee in hand, staring at the sky as dawn approaches. A door slamming across the street startles you. He’s outside. This is it, you live in the same old familiar town, he can’t escape you, you can’t escape him. You trudge across the street, only clad in your shorts and your old Rangers shirt. You wave at him to get his attention as he finishes lifting his tool box onto his lift gate.

You see him swallow as you stand at the edge of his driveway.

“G’morning,” he nods. “Quite early.”

“It is. Could’t sleep.”

“Happens to me too.”

“Mm,” you tap your foot, arms folded across your chest. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, not at all.”

“Then why are you ignoring me?”

“S’complicated.”

“Try me, it’d make no difference.”

“Alright,” he runs a hand through his hair, “you’re too good. I don’t think it’s smart… for me to be with someone right now. Too much going on, ’n it’s safer if we just leave it at that. It’s better for you.”

“So, you fuck me, whisper all those sweet things in my ear, make me feel like I’m the chosen one, then just leave? How romantic Joel.”

“Never said I was the romantic type.”

“No, you’re just the fuck ‘em and strand ‘em. I guess.”

“Listen,” he looks down at his watch, “I gotta get goin’, got an important job to start. I really would like to talk more, I respect you too much ’n I really like you, I just think it’s better if you find someone else.”

“Right, well, see you around neighbor,” you bite.

Fuck it, you can’t have him.

#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller/reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #taylor swift #ttpd #down bad #the tortured poets department

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luvrhyune · 9 months

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-; ✧˖*°࿐ GOODNIGHT, PRINCESS . BANG CHAN .

★༉ SUMMARY ; chan falling asleep with his baby.

★༉ PAIRING ; bang chan x gn! reader.

★༉ GENRE ; fluff, slice of life.

— word count ; 374.

— warnings ; dad! chan, tooth rotting fluff, there is a baby.

— notes ; he’s been plaguing my mind. he won’t leave.

masterlist.

waking up in the middle of the night had become a regular routine after you had your baby. more often then not she would spend half of the night in tears, all because she wanted either yours or chans attention — and majority of the time chan would get up and give her what she wanted.

this specific night however, you woke up because of an empty bed. your hands patted out on the left side of the bed, frowning when you didn’t feel your partner’s warmth next to you. sitting up, you rubbed your eyes of sleep, deciding to go look for your partner.

you walked down the corridor, feet softly padding against the hardwood floor. you gently knocked on the door closest to your bedroom, before slowly opening it and poking your head inside.

the image before you made your heart melt. in the corner of the room, chan sat on the rocking chair, baby cradled to his chest as the both slept peacefully, low snores escaping their mouths.

you snapped a picture of the two before placing a hand on chan’s shoulder, “are you coming back to bed, baby, or would you prefer to stay here?” you whispered, thumb rubbing his shoulder soothingly.

chan blinked, waking up further as he took in his surroundings. he cleared his throat, looking down at the bundle of joy in his arms. she was a few weeks old now, and he still held her like it was her first day experiencing the world. he loved his little girl, that was evident, he always found some way to be around her, he couldn’t help it. “i’ll, uh, i’ll come back to bed.” he smiled at you, though he looked hesitant to leave — he didn’t want to put her down.

your smile widened knowingly, and your hand moved towards his cheek, “she’s not going anywhere, channie.” your free hand moved to her head, stroking the baby hairs, “she’ll be here when you wake up, she might even wake us up later if you’re lucky.” he laughed lightly, standing from the rocking chair, moving to put the infant in her crib.

“goodnight, princess,” he leaned in, pressing a kiss to her forehead, before walking back to bed with you.

-; ✧˖*°࿐ PERMANENT TAG LIST !!

@hyunverse , @chansburgah , @notastraykid , @seungbinbin , @seraphicsolitude , @starlostseungmin , @sunboki , @yongbokkari , @choiwonder , @luvyngi , @l3visbby , @nebulousbookshelf , @liknws ++ honourable dad! skz enthusiast : @cosmic-railwayxo

#[ — luvrhyune ?! ]#k-labels #kflixnet #straykidsland #dad! bang chan #dad! straykids #dad! chan #dad! skz #dilf! bang chan #dilf! straykids #bang chan #skz #bang chan x reader #bang chan x y/n #bang chan x gender neutral reader #stray kids

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wildemaven · 6 months

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you, me & john mcclane | dave york

→ pairing: dave york x f!reader

→ word count: 4342

→ content warning: 18+ blog; friends/idiots to lovers, mentions of food and alcohol consumption, blind dates, mentions of bad dating history, miscommunication, soft dave, carol and dave are divorced but rockstar co-parents, fluff, pining, reader is wearing a dress, no descriptive features of reader, die hard is a Christmas movie, equalizer 2 au, I think that's it but let me know if I missed anything

→ notes: im really hoping this reads well because i struggled getting it finished. words became rough to work with. part of the holi-dave universe, but can be read as a holiday one shot too. big thank you to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for listening to me ramble about these two!!! somewhat beta'd, but not entirely.

→ masterlist / holi-dave masterlist

5 minutes late. Not that you’re keeping track. Although, it’s hard not to when the hostess keeps checking in to see if your date has arrived because they can’t hold your table all night, as you wait in the front lobby of the restaurant. Actively trying your best to convince her your date should be arriving any minute— nearing 10 minutes late now.

You want to be annoyed. You want to call it a night, order your meal to-go, make the trek back home so you can slip back into something less revealing with more layers to fight off the almost freezing temperatures that you hadn’t accounted for when you got dressed earlier. Then once you’ve cocooned yourself in a blanket on the couch, you’ll call your friend and laugh at what a horrible matchmaker she is.

Blind dates have never been your thing. Sure, you have heard plenty of success stories from friends and family about meeting their partners on a blind date, falling in love and getting that happily ever after kind of romance that you’ve always wanted. But that's never been the case for you. You weren’t convinced blind dating would ever produce any sort of cosmic connection like you’ve always heard about. You could barely get a second date from the ones you’ve been on.

You decide to stay, give this whole thing a chance and see what happens— that is if he ever shows up.

The frigid air billows in at the opening of the restaurant door. The cold biting at the exposed skin your dress isn’t covering, as you curl into yourself, turning away to shield your body from the air that’s spilling through the entranceway.

You scan the restaurant for what seems like the hundredth time now. All the couples and families seated comfortably as they enjoyed their warm meals. Probably discussing their upcoming holiday plans and their excitement for the new year ahead.

Glancing down at your phone, it’s approaching 15 minutes late now. Sadness begins to settle in the pit of your stomach. Clearly this date isn’t happening tonight and it’s time to call it like it is, you got stood up— also not a first for you. You tuck your phone back into your purse and make your way over to let the hostess know that she can give your table away.

“Oh my gosh! Dave?” Recognizing a familiar face standing next to the ‘wait to be seat sign’.

“Hey— Hey! How are you?” He says with a smile, instantly moving in to give you a warm friendly hug. His cologne, all masculine and refreshing, wafts about as you lean into him— you envy whoever gets to revel in it tonight.

“I’m good, thanks.” You tell him, as you step out of the way of the couple who just walked in to check in for their reservation. “What are you doing all the way over on this side of town? You picking up dinner for you and the girls? They would love their chicken tenders, super crispy. Molly would love the garlic aoli, it’s really good.”

“Uh, yeah— I mean no, sorry. The girls are with Carol tonight. Things ran late at the office and I’m supposed to be meeting someone for dinner.” He doesn’t mean to be rude, his attention focused on glancing at the seated guests.

“Oh! Same. Except I’m not the one running late, my date is.” You glance back over your shoulder to the restaurant door, still no sign of your date.

“Oh yeah? Maybe he’ll have a good excuse when he shows up.” Dave says, giving the restaurant one last look before setting back against the wall to give you his full attention.

“I hope so, I’m starting to get hungry. Do you know what they look like? Maybe they’re somewhere else in the restaurant? I think there’s a back room through those doors.” You point towards the back of the restaurant. You’re in no rush to leave and start your sulking, so you might as well help a friend out.

“No. It’s a blind date. Literally don’t know a single thing about them. Was just told to be here at 5pm.” The opening of the front door grabs his attention, another well dressed couple enters. He breathes out a sigh, head falling back against the wall, wishing he was anywhere else but here waiting to have dinner and forced conversation with a stranger.

“Then how are you going to know if they’re here or not?” You laugh, situating yourself next to Dave on the wall.

“The dress. That was the only thing I told to look out for— that she would be wearing a brown dress.” He says casually as he checks the watch on his left hand.

A brown dress should be easy enough to spot. Taking a look around to see if you might have better luck spotting his brown-dress-wearing date. It’s nothing but bold reds, soft whites and classic black scattered through the room of guests— no brown dress in sight.

When the hostess glances over to you with her annoyed look, you decide to call it a night. Straightening up off the wall, you prepare to bid Dave a goodbye and make your way home to see what can be done to save the rest of your evening. You adjust your purse strap on your shoulder and start pulling at where the silky fabric of your dress had ridden up. Smoothing over the wrinkles to make sure it’s laying right. You freeze the second your brain registers exactly you’re wearing tonight.

You look up to where Dave is still standing, focused on the ground, hands folded together in front of him. Suddenly becoming keenly aware of every detail about him. Ones that you hadn’t bothered to notice or pay attention to when you said hello only minutes ago.

“Dave… you’re wearing a gray t-shirt and leather jacket.” Your voice barely above a whisper as you try to convey the realization that you’re starting to come to.

“Yeah. Carol told me to wear it. Said it made me look less CIA or whatever.” He pulls open the jacket front, revealing more of his shirt underneath, very much gray and definitely less CIA. He lets the jacket fall back into place, checking his watch for the second time.

“Dave…” Attempting to get his attention again. Your eyes widen once all the dots have been fully connected.

“Yeah?” Dave looks up from his watch, taking in your shocked expression.

“Dave, I’m wearing the brown dress Carol picked out for me— I’m your date, Dave.” His eyes trail down your body— brown silk dress. The same brown silk dress that Carol said his date would be wearing when he arrived at the restaurant tonight.

“Carol set us up?” You both say in unison.

Staring at each other, you’re both completely dumbfounded at the thought of being set up.

You met Carol by chance one morning 3 years ago at a local coffee shop you stop in everyday before work. It was unusually busy in the small coffee shop, which led to your orders being mixed up.

A 10 minute chat while you both waited for the kind baristas to remake your drinks quickly turned into a budding friendship between you. Purposefully arriving for coffee in the mornings so you could catch up on the latest news and tv shows you both loved before jetting off to work.

Before you knew it you were meeting up for dinner and drinks regularly, booking girls trips and attending concerts during the summer, but your favorite was joining Carol and her girls for movies and pampering.

When you met Carol, she had already been divorced for almost 3 years. You admired how well she was juggling life and work as a single mom. She attributed it to having a great co-parenting relationship with her ex-husband.

It was months later when Dave and you had officially met at a summer barbecue Carol and him were throwing for the girls and their friends. Inviting all the families to come enjoy the warm weather and grilled food. Carol had invited, forced, you come and hang out for a few hours. She insisted Molly and Alice had begged for you to be there, learning early on it was hard to tell either of them no.

Carol had warned you Dave was quiet. Reserved felt like a better description. Because with you, he was anything but quiet.

After helping Carol set out food and drinks, both of you retreated to a quiet spot on the porch as the chaos of tiny screaming girls took over the backyard. A comfortable silence between you once hello’s and brief pleasantries were shared.

Dave liked that about you, not forcing a conversation with someone just because you were in close proximity. He found that annoying with Carol’s other friends, always wanting to talk to him and never picking up on his lack of interest. He found you both had a similar aversion to groups of people you didn’t know. Watching the barbecue activities unfold from a distance and only making yourselves known when needed.

Silence was soon exchanged for friendly banter and bouts of laughter. The space between you had become nonexistent as you both shared bits of your lives. Walls began to fall. A sudden eagerness to know more about the worlds you both existed in. A full fledged friendship formed in a matter of hours.

From that day on, you were invited to all gatherings whether it took place at Carol’s or Dave’s homes. It became a song and dance of sorts. Always seeking each other out once things were in order. Finding a quiet place on the sidelines to avoid unwanted attention and small talk with literally everyone else.

Unbeknownst to Dave and you, Carol had been keeping tabs on you both over the years. She wasn’t blind to the bond that had quickly developed between you two. The small touches to Dave’s arm when you were deep in conversation. When you would lose yourself in laughter and lean into him when he said something funny. The way Dave’s hand settled against your lower back when he introduced you to someone you hadn’t met before. Carol’s favorite was how, aside from her and the girls, you were able to make him genuinely smile like no one had done in a long time.

It was after a recent failed date you had gone on, mentioning how hard it was to find someone decent enough to be in a relationship with, that Carol decided to take matters into her own hands. Conjuring up a plan to set you, her closest friend, and Dave, her ex-husband. A little nudge both of you seemed to need.

“Look, Dave. I completely understand if you’re not into it and want to leave. No hard feelings at all. But we’re already here and have a table waiting for us to enjoy ourselves— which I’m sure the hostess would love for us to either sit at sooner than later. So, maybe we just do that. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?” You find it hard to read his blank expression, hoping it’s just pure shock and not that he is repulsed by the fact that he was set up with you.

Are you even his type? Could he see something beyond just a friendship with you? Not things you had ever really worried about until just now. The thought of being rejected by not just someone, but by Dave had you distracted with embarrassment and worry.

A smile begins to form on his face, the tension he’d been wearing when he first arrived no longer evident now that he won’t be having dinner with just anyone, but with you— something the two of you have never done alone before tonight.

“I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be, now. Let’s go enjoy ourselves.” Sensing your internal panic he attempts to calm your nerves, reassuring you that he fully wants to be here. He takes a step closer to you, his hands curled around your shoulders, thumbs gently sweeping in over your bare skin in a back and forth motion. Worry melting from your face instantly.

“Okay.” Your head tilts to the side as you smile sweetly at him, taking in the softness in his eyes. There’s a part of you that’s sure nothing will come of this evening, just two friends merely entertaining the fact that they were set up. But you’d be lying if you said there wasn't a small part of you that bears hope for the possibility of something flourishing from this evening. Whichever outcome, you’re relieved it is Dave.

It’s not long until you’re seated at a small table for two, draped in white soft linens. The overhead lights set to a low muted level, allowing the tabletop candles to elevate the restaurant's evening ambiance. A musician sits at a small piano in the corner, playing a rendition of some holiday song, its nostalgic tune mingling with the hushed voices conversing about.

Drinks and warm appetizers placed among the candles, festive florals and white porcelain tableware. Your meals were discussed and deliberated then placed with the waiter, leaving you both alone in a hushed nervous state. Neither of you quite sure what to say, unsure whether or not you address the elephant in the room— Carol’s secretive matchmaking tactics.

“How are the girls?” You decide to stick to the safety of topics you both know. Hoping the ease of familiarity will lead to a more relaxed dialogue as the night passes.

“Good. They’re good.” He says, in a very to the point Dave response. The waiter breaks the stagnant bubble surrounding you to refill his water, Dave giving a nod of gratitude before directing his attention back to you.

“That’s good.” You quietly release a shaky breath.

“How’s work?” Dave asks after taking a sip from his glass of aged whiskey. He sets it back on the table, before relaxing back into the chair. His arm propped up by the armrest, chin resting between his thumb and forefinger and his eyes focused on you.

You briefly fixate on the flickering light that dances across his ambered irises, the glow of the candle’s flame reflecting in his eyes. A golden brilliance that’s so vividly captivating, you can’t help but feel the warmth that gleams from them— how have you never noticed their allurement before?

“Good. Great, actually. I got that promotion I was telling you about last month.” You don’t miss the way he immediately smiles at your answer.

“I knew you would get it. Congrats!” Dave is proud of you.

He had hoped he hadn’t overstepped when he encouraged you to apply for the position. Agonizing over it with him during a potluck dinner Carol had put together a month ago. You weren’t so convinced you had it in you, but Dave knew otherwise. He knew how hard it had been for you, working tirelessly to prove your worth in a male dominated field. But he also knew how well you held your own against the pressure of being scrutinized doing your job just because you were female. You just needed a little encouragement to make it happen, and Dave was more than happy to give it to you.

“Thank you.” You say gratefully. He raises his glass up to you, grabbing for your white wine, your glass meets his in a clinking celebration.

A rich note strikes from the piano. The warm cadence of a new song catches your attention, drawing you to look over at where the musician's hands move effortlessly over the keys. After a few chorus plays through the second half, you redirect your attention back to the table. Your heart flutters with vibrancy at the way Dave is already looking at you. A reverent gaze that gives you the idea that his eyes have been drawn to you the entire time.

“What?” You ask. Your playful confusion has Dave chuckling, his fingers rub steadily over his bottom lip.

“Nothing. Just—“ Dave knows the moment he says it, there’s no turning back. He’s been silently gauging your demeanor. Noting how you fiddle with the silverware when you’re talking. Or the way you look at him with a subdued intensity, not allowing yourself to truly express your feelings to him— or for him.

With a deep breath and burning confidence, Dave’s willing to take a leap of faith to break the nervous tension that is strung tightly between you both.

“Just what?” Encouraging him to continue. Your fingers twisting your napkin in your lap, each revolution pulling it tighter and tighter in your grip.

“Just admiring how beautiful you look right now. Something I never fully allowed myself to do before this evening.” He sees the way you react to his words. Relief or a validation of your own feelings.

“How come?” You have a feeling you already know, but you want to hear him say it.

“You’re Carol’s friend. I didn’t want to ever make you uncomfortable.”

“You’ve never made me feel anything but comfortable, Dave.” It’s the truth. You don’t think you’ve ever felt so comfortable or safe with anyone. “But I get what you mean. With you being Carol’s ex-husband and that unspoken understanding of respecting her boundaries as her friend. I guess I’ve always been happy with being just your friend, too. But clearly she has a very strong opinion about us though.”

You both laugh, knowing how determined Carol gets when she has a feeling about something.

You both take a moment. No words needed or spoken. Neither of you are willing to wipe the absurd smiles off of your faces, while you stare at each other with an unbridled sense of fondness. The rest of dinner carries on with a better sense of purpose and understanding between you both. Endless conversation exchanged well into dessert. An eagerness to know more about each other before the evening’s end.

It’s a velvety darkness that welcomes you the moment you both step out onto the sidewalk outside the restaurant. White tuffs of clouds drift through the sky, shrouding the moon and stars' usual intense glow for diffused lambency.

The town’s streets are filled with an abundance of Christmas lights hung from store fronts and wrapped around tree bases, providing a perfect backdrop for an after dinner stroll.

“Do you want to take a walk? Look at the lights before we call it a night?” Not really wanting to rush home any time soon, hoping to rack up more time with Dave as possible.

“Sure. Here, take my jacket though, you’re gonna freeze out here.” He could tell you were trying to bravely endure the cold air nipping at your bare skin, but the goosebumps covering your arms and the slight shivering would have you freezing in no time.

He doesn’t really give you an option, draping the leather jacket over your shoulders. The warmth is welcomed as you pull it tightly against you, grateful the moment a brisk breeze picks up and sweeps through the air.

“Thank you.” You say as you both begin to walk in step together down the festively lit sidewalk.

“Of course. Any time.” Dave says with a soft smile. His hands tucked securely into his jeans as he does his best to keep the chilly air at bay.

A group of carolers offer a special serenade of Christmas classics, Dave and you both stopping to enjoy the merriment their harmonies add to the atmosphere. Dave tosses a few generous bills into their tip jar before you both continue your stroll.

“What are your plans for Christmas?” You know him and Carol have a great system for the girls, always making sure they both get equal time with them.

“I get to have the girls Christmas Eve this year. Well open gifts Christmas morning and do our tradition of pancakes for breakfast before Carol picks them up.” You love that he has a special tradition with the girls, there isn’t anything he wouldn’t do for them.

“Carol said they’re asking for a dog this year?” Remembering how Carol had mentioned the girls had been begging for a dog for the better part of the year. So it was no surprise when you had heard they were forgoing Barbie’s and clothes in hopes to add a new furry companion to the family.

“Yeah. They sat us down last week with a full blown presentation on why they think we should get them one.”

“What was one of their reasons?” Knowing full well Molly and Alice probably had a decent list of all the reasons for getting one.

“I think the top reason was that a dog would make me less grumpy.” His brows pinch together with his signature grumpy expression, the reason seemingly obvious at this moment.

“Oh my god, Dave! They deserve a dog just for their efforts alone!” You bite back a snicker, loving how the girls didn’t hold back one bit. Although, you do find his grumpy expressions cute and charming.

“Go on, laugh it up.” He shakes his head at your teasing. “What about you? Do you have any plans for Christmas?” Dave asks. His shoulder lightly bumps against you as you continue to walk in a close proximity to him.

“If you call feasting on a rotisserie chicken straight out of the container while rewatching Die Hard an unhealthy amount of times, plans— then yes, I have plans.” You try to say with a straight face, but fall into a fit of laughter when you see the empathetic look on Dave’s face. “I’m kidding, mostly. I usually spend Christmas with my parents, but they’re out of town this year. So it’s just me— and John McClane.”

“Hey.” Dave grabs your hand, pulling you to a stop with him. His eyes flitting over your face, his thumb brushing over the top of your hand he’s still holding. “Why don’t you come over once Carol gets the girls. I can make dinner and we watch Die Hard a healthy amount of times together, if you want?”

There’s a warmth that radiates through you at his offer. You feel giddy at the thought of spending Christmas, alone, with Dave. You don’t know quite yet what this thing that’s blooming between you is, but you trust that Dave will catch you— especially with how you’re thoroughly falling for him.

“I’d love that— oh shit! Dave, come here!” Your hand now wrapped around his as you try to pull him from where he’s standing. His stubborn body is rooted in place, not moving as you continue to hold him while looking at something overhead that caught your attention.

Dave catches your line of sight. Looking up to see a bundle of mistletoe hanging from the shop sight you both were standing under. He looks back to you, panic stricken by the sight of the green foliage dangling above. He steps closer to you, his lopsided grin slowly becoming a more pronounced smile.

“Dave, you don’t have to if you don’t want to. It’s just silly mistletoe.”

“Isn’t there some sort of thing about bad luck if we don’t?” He slowly starts to lean in towards you, his eyes searching for any kind of hesitation in yours.

“I don’t think that’s a thing.” You murmur. Your stomach flips with anticipation.

“I guess there’s only one way to find out.”

His lips are softer than you could ever have imagined. For even the briefest of kisses, it feels electric and warm.

Dave pulls back slightly, his gaze oscillating between your lips and your eyes, taking in the blissed out look you have. Silent confirmation that you were craving it as much as he was.

It’s dizzying passion when Dave’s lips crash into yours. One of his hands cradles the back of your head as the other snakes around your lower back, pulling you flush against him. Taking advantage of the way your mouth opens for him, his tongue moving over yours with a fiery fierceness.

It feels right and perfect as you continue to revel in the way he deepens the kiss with each passing breath. His jacket falling from your shoulders to the ground as your hands clutch firmly at the front of Dave’s t-shirt. Your mind is a fuzzy mess of thoughts, swirling about, all focused on Dave and this monumental release.

A whine escapes when Dave pulls away for the second time. His forehead resting on yours. Mouths hanging open, vapor puffs hitting the cold air as you both try to catch your breath.

“Dave York. Great conversationalist, devoted father, devastatingly handsome and exceptional kisser— checks all my boxes.” You purr at him.

“Hmm. The first two seem like a given. Handsome?” Asks as he continues to hold you close to him.

“Mmhmm.”

“And what was it? Exceptional kisser?” Cradling the side of your face, recalling exactly how you described the kiss.

“No complaints from me. At all.” Your teeth catching your bottom lip, arms wrapping around his neck, fingers tangling in his soft chestnut hair.

“Not a single one?” His nose gently nudges against yours.

“Well— maybe one. My only complaint would be if you never kissed me again.” You shake your head. The thought of never feeling his lips against yours again would be soul crushing.

“I guess it’s a good thing I look forward to doing it again.” He assures you.

“That so?”

His fingers lightly grip your chin, bringing your lips closer to his. This time the kiss is slower, gentle, still conveying just as much affection and intentness as before.

“I definitely could get used to more of that.” You say breathlessly.

“Yeah? How about we take things slow? You promise me another date. I’ll promise to keep kissing you— exceptionally well.” A promise he’s more than willing to keep.

“I like the sound of that.” Pulling him back for another kiss.

#dave york #dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york x female reader #dave york x f!reader #pedro pascal #wildemaven holi-dave #wildemaven writes #pedrostories

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Mi Galleta (Part 1 - Ginger Molasses)

5.9K / Modern AU Grumpy Bouncer!Pero Tovar x Sunshine-Rich Girl!reader

Summary: You meet Pero Tovar, the grumpy bouncer of a high-end restaurant your friend really wants to eat at, and over the course of one week, you try to convince him to grant you and your friends access.

Warnings: Kind of a silly premise, but let's go with it! Fluff (Pero has one dirty thought), lots of food (including dishes I made up in my mind), cute nickname (won't spoil).

A/N: I love food and I love Pero? And I know Pero loves food, so I said, let's put him in the restaurant business 🤭 Did I mention that this whole thing was born from a dream? All cute dividers by @saradika-graphics 🥰 Series Masterlist

“Uggghhh!! I don’t understand how you’re supposed to eat here??!”

Your friend Dorothy is having an absolute fit, bordering on a tantrum, and you can’t help but bite down on your lip to keep from laughing. Normally, you can diffuse Dorothy’s rage with a well-timed joke and a hug, but it doesn’t look like that’s going to work just yet. Better let her exhaust herself a little more first.

“It’s like this restaurant doesn’t want people to come!!”

“Well, maybe it’s not worth going to then?” asks your other friend Eloise in a helpful tone, which seems like a miscalculation because Dorothy’s arms flail in the air erratically at the question.

“Of course, we have to go! It’s only the hottest restaurant opening; everyone is talking about it! We have to be there!!” Dorothy crosses her arms and exhales with an exaggerated pout.

Very gently you put your arms around her and pat her arm soothingly, “A new restaurant opens, like, every week. We can’t go to them all?”

Dorothy looks like she’s going to cry, “But I want to go to this one! And the fact that they’re making it so exclusive is making me want to go MORE.” You giggle and kiss the top of her head. Some people (okay maybe a lot of people), might say that Dorothy is a brat, but you love her to bits. And Eloise too. Of all your friends, the three of you are the closest, having known each other the longest. There are a lot of misconceptions about kids that go to expensive prep schools, the biggest being that you don’t make friends, you make connections <insert eye-roll>. You’ve known these two women since your days of school uniforms and college prep classes; you’ve seen each other through thick and thin, no one knows you better and is quicker to uplift and support you whenever you need. They are the dearest, most loyal and steadfast friends a person could ever ask for and you dare anyone to say differently.

“Okay,” you say, not one to give up on anything, even if it’s your friend’s short-term dream of eating in a restaurant that apparently doesn’t want any patrons, “what do we know?”

“Food and wine critics have been hinting that a major restauranteur is opening a new location this month and it’s going to be called ‘Lin’. There’s no phone number you can call to make a reservation. There haven’t been any private or soft opening invitations sent out. There is no information or even contact information online. The only thing I know is the location, and that’s only because my wine guy is supplying the restaurant and he told me he’s been making big deliveries in preparation for the opening.”

“Right, your wine guy,” you chuckle. Of course Dorothy has a wine guy. There's not much Dorothy doesn’t have. Nor Eloise. Or you, for that matter. You’ve always been more than aware of the privileges and good fortune bestowed upon your life by the sheer cosmic luck of having been born who you are and to your loving family – for the entirety of your life, you’ve been lucky enough to never want for anything, nor suffered any great misfortune or injustice. You know you’ve done nothing to deserve such advantages and so you’ve vowed never to take any of it for granted. You studied hard, work hard at a job you love, give back generously, and intend to make your way in the world with a positive impact on those around you, the way your parents have modelled. And right now, Dorothy is in need of some positivity.

“Well go on, what’s the address then?” you ask; Dorothy perks up at this and shows you the address she has pulled up on her maps app. “That’s right by my office!” you exclaim, surprised, “How about this? I’ll go and poke around on my lunch break this week and see what I can find out?”

Dorothy squeals and throws her arms around you, and Eloise comes over laughing to join in the reverie. Joyfully, the three of you spend the rest of the afternoon cooking up schemes for your investigative adventure on Monday.

Monday

You look up at the building number, then back down at your phone to double check the address. This doesn’t look like a restaurant at all, never mind a trendy one on the precipice of opening its doors; this looks like… an office building. You peek through the double glass doors and see exactly what you would expect in an office lobby: an information desk, a few modern design chairs arranged into a makeshift waiting area, and an elevator bank. Pushing lightly on the doors, you’re surprised to find that they open easily; you step in to the quiet lobby and with a slight trepidation call out, “Hello? Is there anyone here?” Met with silence, you walk in a little further and look around – not finding anything remarkable, no signs or directions for Lin or any other clues, you make your way to the elevator bank; surely there will be some sort of building directory near the elevators that can tell you something.

“May I help you with something, miss?”

You practically squeak from surprise before turning around to face the deep, accent-lilted baritone voice that snuck up on you. Whatever you were expecting, it wasn’t the tall, broad shouldered, brute of a man scowling at you. His impossible width and towering presence, coupled with the scar over his left eye should be enough to frighten you, but his chocolate brown eyes flash a momentary softness that has you more curious about him than anything.

“Oh yes please! Do you happen to know which way to the restaurant?” you figure pretending to know more than you do can’t hurt.

The stranger’s countenance shifts to something softer, something more like disapproval rather than outright distain (an improvement!) and he hesitates, as if deciding how to answer. Then suddenly, as if to proceed before he can talk himself out of it, he gives a slight nod to the elevators.

Though he maintains his outward glower, Pero can’t help but be charmed by the gleeful smile you give him as you press the button to call the elevator; you look giddy with excitement, and he almost wishes he doesn’t have to disappoint you.

Once the elevator doors open, you step in looking for any additional signs or clues on where you’re supposed to go; finding none, you decide you’ll just try every floor until you find what you’re looking for. However, when you go to press the first button, it lights up at your touch but quickly dims when you let go. Same with the next button. And the next. Holding the elevator door open with one hand, you peek your head out to find the tall stranger waiting for you at the end of the elevator bank, almost expectantly. Although still wearing his scowl, you’re sure you detect a small smile itching to escape, struggling valiantly to tug up the corner of his mouth. Ever so sweetly you call out, “Excuse me! Do you know how I can get access to these floors?”

In response, Pero wordlessly holds up a plastic fob he retrieves from his pocket and smirks (there it is).

You chuckle to yourself; this is shaping up to be quite the puzzle. You love puzzles.

The gatekeeper to the restaurant has already turned to silently return to his post when you step off the elevator and follow him; you find him sitting behind the information desk, looking sternly at his laptop and some papers. You’re positive that he’s only pretending to 1) fill out the paperwork and 2) ignore you, so you don’t feel bad about the Grade A pestering you’re about to inflict on him.

“Soooooo… who gets to decide who you let up?” you chirp, cheerily.

Silence.

Your sweet tone does not waver one bit, “Is there a list? Or like, an application, to get on the list?”

Silence. Then something like a sigh.

“There must be a list. How does one, get on the list?” you smile because you know you’re wearing him down.

“You won’t know until you try.” Finally! A response!

You make a big show of pretending to think, pursing your lips and tapping them gently with your perfectly manicured nails, “So bribery. Cool, cool.”

Silence.

“Do you want… my sandwich?” you hold out the lunch bag you have in your hand from your favourite sandwich shop.

“No, thank you.” Pero’s not looking at you; he’s afraid he might crack if he does.

“Good. This is my favourite sandwich,” if you’re not mistaken, you think you see the stranger’s shoulders shake a little, as if suppressing a laugh.

But still, more silence.

“Are you here everyday?” you tilt your head questioningly, and even though the man is not looking at you, you give him your widest doe eyes and softest pleading expression.

Pero almost wishes he hadn’t looked up, so instantly disarmed he is by the innocent look you’re giving him. For a moment, he imagines what it might be like to have you giving him this same look from between his legs while on your knees, before he forces himself to snap out of his daydream with something close to a groan. To cover up this noise, he gives a curt nod.

And then, although you couldn’t possibly be reading his filthy mind, you say, “May I come… back?” and Pero almost perishes when he hears the first three words of your question. He once again gives you a brusque tip of his head so not to betray any of his thoughts. Perfectly satisfied, you throw him another heart-stopping smile before practically flouncing out of the lobby, leaving Pero feeling positively thrown at what just happened.

Tuesday

You stand in front of the information desk, patiently waiting for Pero to look up. It takes him a few minutes to look at you, but you don’t mind. You rock back and forth on your heels, taking in the finer design details of the lobby that you hadn’t had an opportunity to admire yesterday.

“Hello again,” his tone is gruff, but you think not unfriendly.

Excited, you brace yourself on the desk and lean forward, eyes full of mirth, “Hi! Are you ready for your bribe?”

Looking impassive, Pero leans back in his chair and gestures openly with his hands, “Alright. Show me what you got.”

Pulling a container out of your bag, you place it in front of him and smile expectantly.

Pero examines the container with suspicion, but when he opens it, he does so with mock trepidation, as if the contents might explode and you giggle at his theatrics. It’s the sweetest sound Pero’s ever heard. Looking into the container, he sees it’s filled with cookies; he doesn’t know what he had expected, but it certainly wasn’t home baked goods.

He picks up a cookie and bites into it gingerly, trying to ignore how adorable he finds your look of anticipation.

“So?”

Pero arches his eyebrow in silence, a question in response to your question.

“Have I successfully bribed you into letting me and my friends up to the restaurant?” your eyes wide with hope.

“No, sorry.”

You can’t help but let your face fall, “Oh shoot. Were they not good?”

“Oh no, it’s very good… just not my favourite cookie,” Pero knows he could lie to you, but he’s sure you wouldn’t want that.

“Oh!” This you can work with, “Ok, if we’re going to do this, I’m going to need you to rank it, so I know if I’m getting closer.”

You lean over his desk and help yourself to a note pad; pulling a pen from your purse, you write the date, then neatly next to it “Ginger Molasses” and “_ /10” before pushing the paper back towards the bouncer. Pero tries not to smile while you impatiently watch him as he makes a show of thinking, tapping his fingers against his lip much like you did yesterday; he carefully pencils in a “7”.

“Not bad, not bad, not bad,” you chant to yourself, invigorated as you get up to go. “I’ll grab the container next time,” you say over your shoulder while giving the man a little wink. Pero waits until you’re gone before stuffing his face with your delicious cookies.

Wednesday

The next day, you return on your lunch break with white chocolate macadamia nut cookies. You’re not sure, but the bouncer looks like he’s expecting you; at least his scowling face seems to relax slightly when he sees you.

Keen to get started, you hurry through the usual pleasantries before quickly depositing the box in front of Pero. Inwardly, he’s amused by your eagerness.

You burst out laughing when Pero holds up a finger after he opens your container and reaches down next to him to open the door of a mini fridge and pulls out a bottle of milk. Confirming what he thought yesterday, that your laugh is the loveliest sound he’s ever heard, Pero’s chests puffs in pride at having been able to draw it out of you. He makes a big show of biting down into an oversized cookie for your amusement and takes a comical swig of milk before pulling out the pad you had used yesterday for the cookie rankings.

When you try to peer over him to see the score he’s giving, his hunches over and covers the paper with his arm, huffing dramatically. You giggle some more. You have to admit the bouncer is growing on you, his scary glare clearly a facade for work, because he’s actually quite funny. And cute.

Pero leans back and turns the pad towards you. You see he’s written neatly under your writing from yesterday: the date and “White Chocolate Macadamia 7.5/10”

“Oh! It’s an improvement at least!” you say with pride.

Pero nods, though not smiling, no longer bothering to put on his customary frown, “It’s very good. But still not my favourite cookie.”

“That’s okay, I’m doing better, that’s what matters.” Pero thinks that if he could be responsible for the smile that’s currently on your face for the rest of his days, he could die happy.

Then to his surprise, you pull out two more containers from your bag; for a moment, Pero thinks he’s in for another cookie, but when he leans forward curiously, he sees that the containers contain some kind of pasta salad.

Holding out one of the containers to the bouncer, you offer, almost shyly, “Can you have lunch?”

“No.”

Oh. Maybe this was too much. Your face falls a little, before nodding, “I guess you’re working, sorry.”

Pero falters a bit when he sees your sweet face looking sad; he knows his grumpy exterior can put people off, but he didn’t mean to do so this time. Not to you. “You can have lunch though,” he gestures to the other chair behind the desk, next to him.

You brighten immediately, face breaking out into a big grin, “Really?”

“Yes, really,” Pero pushes his chair in a little to give you some more room to pass behind of him.

Happily, you plop down on the free seat and get out two forks. You lay one on a container and push it towards him, and pick up the other to start digging into your salad, “Is it a rule you can’t eat here? I hope you don’t get in trouble for the cookies.”

Touched by your concern, Pero explains, “There’s no rule, but it doesn’t look very intimidating if I’m savouring a baked good while turning people away from the restaurant.”

Mouth full of food, you cover your mouth daintily with your hand, “Why do you turn them away?”

“The owners are really passionate about this restaurant; so much time and heart has gone into every aspect, from the menu to the decor. Lin is a fusion of Spanish and Chinese cuisines, with some Latin influences; all these cultures are rich in history, beloved and cherished by their people and the owners. The restaurant is named for one of their wives. They just want the people who come and eat here first to be people that will truly immerse themselves and enjoy the experience and food, appreciate it for the labour of love that it is. Not people here for clout.”

“That’s really sweet. I didn’t know Lin held such a special meaning,” you smile, genuinely touched as Pero tucks the containers you brought him away for later, “How can you tell who’s here for clout and who isn’t?”

“Just my gut,” Pero says simply; he reaches into his drawer and pulls out the container you left him with yesterday, cleaned.

You’re surprised and gratified, “Oh, thank you! You didn’t have to clean it!”

“You would have done the same.”

“Well, I mean… yes, but…”

“Then you deserve the same back,” his tone kind, but factual.

You grin as you look down, taking the container before looking back up at Pero with an amused look, “You seem fairly sure in what you know about me, but you don’t even know my name.”

“I’ve just been calling you ‘Cookie’ in my head.”

You feel your face flush at the idea that he’s given you a pet name and tell him he can call you ‘Cookie’ if he wants, but also give him your name.

“Pero Tovar,” he introduces himself, holding out his hand; when you shake it, you’re pleasantly surprised at the gentleness with which he touches you. You can feel a strength and self-assuredness in his grip, but the way he handles you is almost careful. Like you’re precious.

“Ok, Pero Tovar,” you beam, loving the opportunity to let his name roll off your tongue, “what’s your favourite part about working here?”

“The bribes,” he quips without missing a beat before he winks at you. You shouldn’t feel your heart skip a beat from such a small gesture, but you’re filled with a lot of fondness for Pero suddenly and you look back down at your salad so he can’t see the way you’re grinning.

He does see, however, and he finds himself experiencing a similar fondness for you. He earnestly answers your question, telling you about the delicious food, the months of recipe R&D all the staff took part in, and the hardworking team they’ve put together upstairs.

The remainder of your lunch hour passes too quickly for your liking. Your conversation with Pero never wanes; you find that not only do you have a love of food in common, but can apparently both talk about it for hours. Pero is funny and thoughtful; something that is readily reflected in his more natural expression. You almost laugh out loud each time a potential restaurant patron comes in and he immediately flips a switch and turns on what you now suspect is just a scary work persona. Especially if once that person is out of sight, he immediately softens his handsome features and goes back to telling you about the best gelato he’s ever had.

Thursday

The following day, you’re met with a surprise as you approach Pero’s building; normally anytime you run into your friends unexpectedly, it’s a pleasant surprise, but it doesn’t appear to be very pleasant for Eloise and Dorothy today. In fact, Dorothy looks downright surly.

“Babes! What are you doing here? What’s wrong?” you exclaim, both confused and concerned.

“Ugh!” Dorothy actually stomps her foot, “That neanderthal won’t let us up for lunch. What is it going to take? He won’t even tell us why or give us a chance to change his mind.”

“Pero?” you ask, still unsure of what happened, “You talked to Pero?”

Eloise steps in, because Dorothy looks like she’s about to have an aneurism at the sound of his name, “We finished up some of the content we were making nearby, so we thought we’d come down and give getting in a shot, since you said you don’t think it’s impossible. We figured, best case, you’re coming down here anyways – maybe we could all have lunch at Lin together, and worst thing would be we don’t get in, but then we’d be meeting up with you and we could go get lunch somewhere else?”

“NO,” Dorothy grits through her teeth, “The worst thing would be if we had to deal with that self-important ass. Who died and made him king?!”

After what Pero told you yesterday about the owners of Lin and how they want their patrons to experience the restaurant, you know exactly why Pero didn’t let your friends up, but you’re not about to tell them lest you want to hear more expletives directed at him. Maybe you can help smooth it over.

“Do you guys think you can give me ten minutes to talk to him? Then let’s go to Quattro for lunch?” you ask, picking one of Dorothy’s favourite restaurants in an effort to placate her.

“Come on, Dorie,” Eloise tugs at Dorothy’s sleeve, employing the nickname only she and you are allowed to use, “There’s some really good lighting down the street. Let’s get a couple more shots for Instagram.”

“FINE,” Dorothy begrudgingly agrees, then points at you, “but ten minutes only. Then we’re coming in to rescue you from that asshat.” You don’t tell her that her scowl right now could give that asshat’s scowl a run for its money.

When you walk in to the building and approach the front desk, your heart melts when you see Pero’s face crack a small smile upon seeing you, “Hey, Cookie.”

As you approach the edge of his desk, he moves to scoot forward in his chair like he did yesterday when he invited you to eat with him, “Can you stay to have lunch again today?”

Staying where you are, you shake your head and give him a look of regret, “No, sorry. Not today.” You shouldn’t but you feel your heart warm a little at the way his face falls in disappointment. You reach into your bag and bring out two containers, one with a sandwich for him, and the other with today’s cookie offering: salted caramel.

“I was going to stay, but now it seems that I have two very upset friends that I need to take out to lunch,” you give him a small playful smile so he knows it’s not (too) serious.

It takes him a second to make the connection, but the instant he does, his face reverts back into the deep scowl he probably gave your friends. You’re not sure what possesses you, maybe it’s the desire to see the softer expression that he normally reserves for you, but you reach out and touch Pero’s face, your fingers lightly grazing the scruff of his jawline. He looks at you with a small look of surprise but doesn’t move away. “Please don’t judge them too harshly,” you ask of him gently, “I know they probably didn’t come off that way, but they’re the exact type of people who would appreciate Lin in the way that the owners hope. They are very good people, I promise. And very dear to me.”

Pero doesn’t know how he could ever refuse you anything, the soft lilt of your voice and the eloquence of your words would be enough to convince him of anything he’s sure. He gives you a little nod and is rewarded with your sweet smile.

He misses your touch immediately when you withdraw your hand from his face; so much so that when you ask if he’s ready for today’s cookie, he reaches out to place his hand on your waist before nodding.

You gasp a little when he holds you, wondering how you got here, from strangers to exchanging small familiar touches in less than a week; but you can’t say it doesn’t feel right. You don’t know what this connection with Pero is or where it’s going, but you know you don’t want it to end.

Opening the container, you tilt it towards him and watch him select a cookie. Giving it a once over, Pero takes a big bite and chews thoughtfully as you wait for his verdict. You don’t try to peek at the scorecard today, but when he shows you, it’s with an apologetic look on his face, “Sorry, Cookie. Don’t be mad.”

“Oh no…” your eyes widen when looking for the number, “… a 2??!” You look up at Pero, horrified. “Did I do something wrong? Mix up an ingredient?” You grab a cookie from the container and take a bite; it tastes as expected, no surprise ingredient or taste. Oh no. It tastes the way you think it should and he hates it.

It’s so silly. People are allowed to not like your cookies, but you hadn’t realized how badly you had wanted to impress Pero until you… didn’t. He’s being very nice about it, still eating the one he’s holding in his hand, but you think you might cry; although you try not to, your face assumes the corresponding saddened expression anyways, “Oh, I’m so sorry they’re not good.” You attempt to close the container and take it away.

Pero’s heart nearly breaks at the look on your face, and he chastises himself for being the cause. Wanting more than anything to make you feel better, he gently takes back the container, “They are very good. Really, Cookie,” he tries to convince you when you look up at him, dubious, “I’m just not a big fan of caramel, that’s all. They’re still delicious.”

You can’t tell if he’s lying just to make you feel better, but a little part of you likes the idea that he would care to.

Desperate now to make you smile, Pero suggests, “How about you and your friends come back tonight for dinner at Lin?”

“No! No way,” you practically shout, to Pero’s surprise, “Not for a 2!! I didn’t earn it.”

He concedes a little, “It’s more like a 3, maybe even 4. They’re delicious, just not for me.”

Shaking your head, you won’t budge, “No, no, no. I don’t want your pity points. It’s a 2, and that’s the final score. And that’s not a sufficient bribe. I’ll try again tomorrow.”

Pero breathes a little sigh of relief upon hearing that you plan on coming back. When he reaches into his desk to get you your cleaned containers from yesterday, he confirms, “Ok, tomorrow it is then.”

As you’re packing away your containers, he continues, “…until then, I have something for you.”

You look up in surprise, “Something for me?”

“Of course. You bring me delicious food everyday, it would be ungentlemanly of me not to return the favour.” With that, he pulls out a takeout box from the mini fridge that he’s been saving for you.

You’re delighted; you’re not sure what it is but you’re touched by Pero’s thoughtfulness.

“It’s the shrimp toast I told you about yesterday.”

You squeal, “From upstairs?”

He nods as you happily take the box from him; it’s one of the Chinese-Spanish fusion dishes that he had described to you that supposedly exemplifies the type of cuisine Lin does best. He’s been looking forward to sharing it with you and seeing what you think.

“Oh Pero, thank you so much! I’ve been thinking about this and how it might taste since you told me about it yesterday! Is it okay if I share it with my friends?” you ask, shyly.

Of course, you would think of sharing with others; Pero nods his permission.

“Thank you, thank you!” you’re beaming and before you can talk yourself out of it, you lean down and give Pero a kiss on the cheek and promptly skip out the front doors.

Hand to his cheek, Pero watches as you wave over your friends, the same two women he had turned away from the restaurant not 15 minutes ago, and sees you excitedly present the box to them. The three of you open the box, and peer in eagerly, each reaching in to take out one shrimp toast; you wait for each other and adorably cheers your food before each taking a big but elegant bite.

He can’t help but grin as he listens to your collective squeals and exclamations of approval that he can hear even through the closed doors. The flavour explosion on your tongue is incredible, the flavours of the two cuisines melding perfectly; each bite is perfect. “So gooood!” Eloise moans, and the three of you dance around happily while savouring a second toast each. When you’re done, you wave enthusiastically at Pero through the glass and give him a big thumbs up, then you and your friends chorus “Thank you, Pero!!!” before setting off for lunch, giggling.

Friday

You had mulled over which cookie to bake all evening. Pero doesn’t seem to like the cookies that are too sweet, which kind of feels in line with his personality, so you settle on Oatmeal Raisin; an oldie but a goodie.

Unable to contain the skip in your step when you’re heading to his building today, you’re feeling positively giddy. And it’s all due to Pero. He’s so different that you initially thought – he’s thoughtful, and funny, and capable of unexpected kindness. Of course, he’s still a bit rough, bordering on fearsome, but you think it lends itself to his particular brand of handsomeness; his scruffiness and that scar over his left eye have invaded your dreams more than once this week.

Before you can even take out today’s cookies though, Pero invites you to sit down behind the desk and asks you to wait for him while he disappears into an opening in the far corner of the lobby. You wait there for about five minutes, amusing yourself with what you might do if a restaurant patron were to come in, when you hear the ding of an unseen elevator and see Pero reemerge from the same alcove.

He’s carrying a little tray with a cover on it; setting it down in front of you, he says with exaggerated flair, “Lunch is served, princesa” and lifts the little silver dome.

The only thing that can distract you from the new nickname is the mouthwatering smell of the food that's on the plate in front of you. Pero watches you examine the dish and is mollified when you ask, “Is that... stewed pork belly in an arepa??!” Proud that you got it right away, he gestures for you to try it, and you enthusiastically pick up the stuffed patty and take a giant bite. You can’t help but moan. The rich savoury flavour of the pork is perfectly offset by the crisp veggies and the light spread inside the bread; the softness of the fat positively melts into the crispy texture of the warm arepa. You’re in heaven.

“Good?” Pero can’t help but feel a sense of pride from your obvious approval of the dish.

“Omigod, s’good,” you mumble, mouth still full. When you’re done swallowing, you feel a surge of tenderness towards the man in front of you who seems to share your love language of food, “Thank you, Pero! This is so amazing. Lin has to have some of the best food I’ve ever tasted. This and the shrimp toast from yesterday are all so well executed and flavourful, and all so incredibly unique. You can taste the love the owners put in; please, please pass on my compliments if you don’t mind? This place is going to be such a success.”

Pero sits back down, looking at you with a look that you can’t quite place, something between adoration and amusement as you continue to stuff your face. In between bites, you hand him your box of cookies, which he eagerly opens. Unbeknownst to you, he’s already decided that he would give you and your friends the go ahead today; after yesterday, he knew he would do anything to put a smile on your face. But he also didn’t expect you to have guessed his favourite cookie on the fourth try. Devouring two cookies in a row, he takes out the now familiar pad of paper and marks down today’s score: 10, circled three times for effect.

You practically squeal in excitement, eyes wide in disbelief, “Really?! You liked it that much?”

Pero nods, thrilled at your reaction, “Loved it, Cookie. Oatmeal raisin is my favourite.”

You throw your arms around him in a big hug, and revel in the warmth that flows through you when you feel his strong arms encircle your waist. Getting a hold of yourself, you sit back down in your chair, making yourself presentable with your back straight and your hands clasped in your lap, “So, Mr. Pero Tovar, have I successfully bribed my way upstairs?”

Unable to supress his chuckle, Pero answers in equal seriousness, “I would say so. How about tonight at eight. Dinner for three, I presume?”

“Oh yes! Thank you!! Eloise and Dorothy are going to be so pleased! And I am as well, of course,” you look at him with some renewed shyness, “Will you be working tonight?”

“I will. I’ll probably be off before you finish dinner, but I’ll be here to let you up.”

“Ack! I can’t wait!” You ask if you can help Pero with the dirty dishes, but he waves you off. You leave him with the quiche you brought him for lunch before waving goodbye and texting the girls the good news.

---

At 8 p.m. on the dot, you, Dorothy and Eloise, walk through the front doors of Lin; Pero is in the elevator bank letting the people in front of you up, so the three of you wait patiently by his desk. When he turns, he has his signature work scowl on, but immediately softens when he sees you.

“Hey Cookie, ready to go up?”

You nod happily, and introduce your friends.

“Oh, we’ve met,” Pero’s eyes narrow before he smirks, to which Eloise looks bashful and Dorothy puts on her most innocent expression.

Once you’re in the elevator, Dorothy pokes you in the back and gives you an encouraging look; taking a deep breath, you stop Pero’s hand when he reaches in with the fob and gently push him backwards, walking him back down the elevator bank. Pero looks confused, “Is something wrong, princesa?”

Looking at him innocently, you ask, “Pero, may I have your phone?”

He unlocks and hands it to you without question, curious. You quickly snap a selfie and put yourself in as a new contact with your phone number, before handing it back, “In case you get a craving for any cookies.”

Pero blushes when he realizes what you’ve done, but as he walks you back towards the elevator, he does so with his hand resting comfortably on your lower back. Leaning in to press the elevator buttons for you, he whispers, “Can I call you later, Cookie?”

You answer with a quick peck to his cheek and a small nod; his grinning face is the last thing you see before the elevator doors close.

#pero tovar #pero tovar fanfiction #pero tovar fic #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x f!reader #pero tovar x you #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #modern!pero tovar #modern au #no y/n

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heliads · 1 year

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soulmate! kaz brekker x reader please! names on the wrist (kaz r not kaz b). reader is a childhood friend and is a grisha under contract of servitude (tailor). they meet secretly and one night kaz says he is going on a mission to fjerda and when he returns he will buy his contract. at the end of CK he actually does this and takes her to the slat and they have a hand holding/light kiss on the forehead moment where they finally say they accept each other as soulmateI love your work, darling! ♡

ty! and excellent request, man does soulmates!kaz always hit a little different

masterlist

Soulmates were not meant for a place like this. Honestly, sometimes it seems more like some sort of cosmic accident, that of all the places to experience a meant to be, a soul universally joined to you and you alone, Ketterdam should not be it. Fjerda, now, that makes sense for soulmates. They already cling to enough traditions that magical superstition just makes sense. Even Ravka, Ravka the war-torn legend, that works.

But your home? Yours is a city of broken boys and lonely girls, blood running in the streets and skin worn too thin from all the times people pretended it was too thick. Kerch is not a country that prides itself on anything but profit. The Barrel, then– scum of the earth, forgotten by the Saints, blind to anything but greed– this is not a place that love lasts. Yet everyone here has a soulmate, the same as everyone else on every corner of the world. Make that make sense to anyone with a working brain.

Sometimes you almost think that the soulmates trend should have skipped over your city. Maybe that would be some sort of divine penance for all the wrongdoing your fellow citizens commit with glee. It would take a sign that big to convince anyone to lay down their guns and knives and try to even think about peace.

It doesn’t come, though, that divine intervention. Instead, you all have soulmates, and you all wager their lives like another round at Makker’s Wheel. You will go through your life trying to find the one person who makes you whole, and regardless of whether you find them or not, it will never be enough. The Barrel always wants more, and if it’s your city, then you do, too.

You don’t have far to look, though. Truth be told, you already found your soulmate quite a long time ago. That’s what you think, at least. In reality, your sainted aspirations are just that– dreams, hopes, an estimation that you made when you were young and have never dared to actually challenge or prove correct.

In your defense, it is almost impossible for you to tell for certain. Soulmates are identified one way and one way only: a name written across your wrist in the print of your soulmate. You’ve stared at your own wrist enough to commit the inked black to memory: Kaz Rietveld, scrawled in hurried print that still took the time to be solid and secure. There is no room for additional flourishes nor swooping script, just the name and nothing else.

That’s just like Kaz, too. Ruthless, determined Kaz. He runs through this life just like his name wraps around your veins. He’ll do what he pleases and take what he wants. If what he wants is for you to live the rest of your life in mystery, then, well, that’s just fine by him.

Maybe Kaz doesn’t know at all. The problem with the Kaz on your wrist versus the Kaz you know in real life is the issue of his last name. Kaz Brekker is the boy who runs the Barrel. Kaz Rietveld is the one who is damned to you forever. There is no guarantee that they are the same, but oh, how you wish they were.

You’ve known Kaz for half as long as you’ve known yourself. You met Kaz about a year or so after the flareup of the Queen’s Lady Plague. By then, he’d already started the process of breaking down his fragile pieces and rebuilding them back up to become Dirtyhands, the killer of this city.

You were newly arrived in Ketterdam, having the misfortune to walk into one of the gilded traps of the many pleasure houses of the West Stave. You weren’t indentured for your body, thank Ghezen, only for your hands. You’re a Tailor, one of the rare Grisha with a knack for changing the appearances of others rather than conjuring up swarms of fire or water.

You have a room in the House of the Blue Iris, and customers are sent up to you on the regular. They want darker hair, then lighter; bigger eyes, then smaller; shrinking skeletons and blooming skin. All this you can do with some effort, but it’s gotten easier over the years, your gift. It had to improve, of course. If it didn’t, your employers would start wanting you for other purposes, and that you would avoid more than anything.

As if you have a choice, though, when it really comes down to it. Your contract of servitude seems to stretch on until forever, and increases by the day. The Blue Iris uses every single excuse to lengthen your contract that they can. No matter how much money you earn, how many clients walk away happy, you’ll never be done. Not really.

Kaz met you when you were first roped into the Iris. He was scrounging around for someone to con, and first tried his tricks on you. It didn’t work, but instead of getting violent, he was just curious. Nobody saw through him like that, he said. That means he should try harder, you claimed.

It was as good as an insult to any self-respecting thief in the Barrel, which was why the two of you became immediate allies. Even after Kaz grew into Dirtyhands, broken-crowned king incarnate of this godless city and you stayed just you, still in that room in the Iris, he never let you go. Not really.

Some part of you wonders if it’s because he knew all along. See, you can never confirm whether or not he’s your soulmate because Kaz will never let anyone know at all. His gloves cover his wrists with a good few inches of black leather to spare, so there’s no chance of catching a glimpse of your name written there on his skin. He’s certainly never told you that you would ever be his soulmate.

Then again, it would be just like Kaz to keep it from you. He doesn’t like weaknesses, the Brekker boy, even when everyone claims to the stars and back that soulmates only help you find fulfillment in your life, not drag you away from it. Kaz likes being alone. His friends are exceptions, not proof, that he would ever conform to such a traitorous belief that he would need people in his life.

Likewise, he’ll never know for certain that you’re his soulmate unless you gave up the charade and asked him outright. Anyone with a decent bottle of concealer and smudgeproof black pen can pretend to be someone’s soulmate, and workers of the West Stave’s pleasure houses are often unfairly targeted in the hopes of gaining some free sessions. You’ve been tailoring your soulmate’s name off of your wrist for years now, longer than you’ve ever known Kaz.

Thus, the two of you are at an impossible stalemate. Neither of you will risk asking, because the cost of being wrong is far too high. Kaz would never surrender his guard long enough to include a soulmate in his life as more than a friend. You certainly have no space in your contract to include someone made for you. Neither of you can see the name of the other’s soulmate, so you’ll go on dancing around the issue for the rest of your lives.

It bothers you sometimes to think that Kaz would rather die than tell you. If he was your soulmate, then he’d have your full name there, first and last correct. Maybe the rumors are true and he never takes off his gloves even to speak, maybe his arms are so burned that the skin has melted away and he never saw the name in his life. Regardless of his innocence, true or not, he keeps his silence. You respect him enough to do the same.

Yet when Kaz shows up at your room in the middle of the night, you can’t shake the feeling that he knows something. He’s certainly nervous enough to indicate such a truth; he shifts from leg to leg, constantly moving as if he’s ready to run at any moment. Your clients are done for the present moment, and you were in the middle of trying to regain at least some energy for the next one. You love being a Grisha and using your gifts, but Saints, if it doesn’t kill you to be so drained day in and day out. Everyone wants more than you have, but if you let them down, the consequences are unthinkable.

Kaz knocks on your window; you know it’s him before you turn. Kaz has a way of making himself known, from anything to the distinctive sound of his cane accompanying his footsteps to the very pattern of his breathing from across the room. You’d know him anywhere, in death, in life, in hapless, never-ending purgatory.

You rise to unlock your window, but he lingers there still on the other side of the sash. Cocking one brow, you ask him why he hasn’t yet come in. “Last time I checked, you’ve never had a problem with invading my personal space. What’s changed?”

Kaz exhales sharply, but stays there on the fire escape, as if scared to give himself too much room. “I’m leaving. Tomorrow, early. No one can know.”

You frown. “Then why are you telling me? Anyone could be listening.”

Kaz seems to have reached that same conclusion several times before, but he stays regardless. “It’s a job. A good one. Thirty million kruge.”

You blow out a low breath. “Ghezen’s hand, that’s a lot of money. Still doesn’t explain why you’re breaking your typical pre-job oath of secrecy and telling me, though.”

Kaz makes an irritated sound in the back of his throat. “You’re infuriating.”

“Of course I am,” you smile, “that’s why you spend time with me, isn’t it?”

There’s a pause, and then Kaz continues. “I’ll buy your contract when we’re done.”

This you weren’t expecting. “What?” You gasp, almost thinking that you heard him wrong.

Kaz isn’t one to joke around on serious matters, though, and he repeats himself again. “I’ll buy your contract from the Blue Iris. Once we finish the job and we get our money. You can be one of my Dregs.” His expression softens, eyes growing wide with the slightest tint of disbelief. “That is, if you’d want to.”

You laugh quietly. “Kaz, it would be an honor to join your gang.”

Something almost like a smile touches his lips. “There’s no honor among thieves, Y/N.”

“With you, there would be,” you answer.

Kaz shakes his head. “I’m certainly not honorable. I would have thought all this time would have taught you that.”

You ponder that for a moment. “If you’re not honorable, why would you go to the trouble of buying me out?”

Kaz looks away, and has to all but drag his eyes back to you again. Even still, it seems to take everything in him to hold your gaze. “I am selfish, actually. Very. I’m doing this because– because–”

His voice breaks off, and it takes at least a minute for him to recover. When he speaks at last, the syllables are choked out with great force. “Is it true? The name on your wrist, is it mine?”

Your eyes widen. “Yes,” you say at last, although you hadn’t been expecting this. Part of you thought the two of you would avoid the soulmates topic forever. Maybe it would be better that way.

Kaz’s brow furrows. “Are you sure? The last name, it says Brekker?”

It’s a trick. You’d know it even if it weren’t for the fact that Brekker isn’t the name on your wrist, that Kaz has always needed to protect himself first and trust anyone second. His brow furrows the way it does when he tries to pull a con over someone. You’ve been with him long enough to learn his ticks, and you know them now by heart.

So, you shake your head and lay your heart bare. “No,” you whisper, “it says Kaz Rietveld.”

Hearing that name seems to shake Kaz to the core. “How did you know it was me?”

You chuckle. “There are only so many boys named Kaz in this city. I mean, there are thousands of Jacks and Toms and Asbjørns, but I’ve only met one Kaz. You.”

Kaz nods slowly, accepting this. “I’ve never told anyone Rietveld was my last name,” he murmurs, half to himself, “not even you.”

His eyes seem to fix on your wrist, so you will the Tailoring away, revealing his name inked on your wrist in his same spider-block font. Kaz nods once, accepting this, then pulls off one glove on his hand. He holds it close to his chest for a moment, daring himself to do this, then gives in and shows it to you. There, written so perfectly below his hand that you almost believe you had written it yourself that very moment: Y/N L/N.

Kaz nods mechanically. “We can’t tell anyone, of course. My enemies would go mad if they knew. Still, maybe after this–”

His voice trails off, but you know what he meant. “Maybe we can explore what that means for us,” you reply softly.

Kaz’s head jerks up and down once in a marionette’s version of a nod. “We’ll see.”

A sound in the hall outside makes him startle, and he’s tugging the glove back on in a second. “Wait for me,” he says, then disappears down the fire escape again.

Your wrist is tailored over in a second, but that doesn’t stop your head from churning, your heart from pounding. After all this time, it’s true. Kaz is your soulmate, and you are his. What a world.

After that, waiting feels like agony. You hear about the disaster with the Ferolind in Ketterdam’s docks, but from the scant news you can pick up, Kaz and his crew managed to make it to the water without getting caught by rivals. All you can do is hope that they’ll manage to complete whatever impossible task waits for them during this job. Thirty million kruge is no small fee, to be sure. If it was so serious that Kaz would come to you first, even risk telling you about the job to know if you were his soulmate, the odds of dying must be high.

You know that rebellions to shake the world rarely come about quickly, but Saints, if you didn’t wish Fate would hurry itself up. You want to see Kaz again, you want to be sure that you weren’t imagining all of that moonlit conversation.

And, in time, he comes back. It takes longer than you expected. There was a terrible period of a week or two in which you knew he was back in town but he still wasn’t at your door. There were rumors that he had to take down a certain Jan van Eck as well as Pekka Rollins. Still, you refuse to give up hope, and your aspirations are rewarded.

Your employer knocks on your door, an angry sound. When you open the door, they hold up a contract, newly signed over to one Kaz Brekker. You’re told to gather your things in a far shorter period of time than anyone could ever manage, but you do so with great joy. For once, you’re living on your own terms, and it is fantastic.

Kaz is waiting for you in the streets outside. He seems changed somehow; a little older, a little more tired. Along with the stories of what he did to take down van Eck, you also heard that he lost a few friends along the way. You offer him a quiet smile, and he does his best to return it. Maybe in time, it will come easier. You can always hope. There is no cost to that.

Kaz saved a room in the Slat, the closest to his office other than his own. You place your bags in the corner and stand there, breathing in the smoky air. The Slat is creaking, half doused in rebel blood, utterly shameless and impractical. You love it to death already.

Kaz closes the door, then slowly walks over to you. An oil lamp burns overhead, giving his dark hair the appearance of a gentle golden halo. That might be the best joke you’ve seen yet. Kaz is no angel, to be sure, nothing near a Saint, but you think you quite like that about him.

He leans over slowly, carefully, and places a kiss on your forehead. It is so light you hardly feel it, but it seems to move both of you like a raging storm.

“Welcome home,” he says at last. For once, Dirtyhands is speaking the truth, and a kind truth at that. You think it might suit him.

grishaverse tag list: @rogueanschel, @deadreaderssociety, @cameronsails, @mxltifxnd0m, @story-scribbler, @retvenkos, @thatfangirl42, @amortensie, @gods-fools-heroes, @bl606dy, @auggie2000

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jeridandridge · 10 months

Text

Masterlist

my A03

Stuff I write for

Reading playlist

Melissa Schemmenti works

college years series:

All I Wanted

Red Solo Cup

Detours

Voices

I’m On Fire

Melissa Schemmenti x OC (sophia)

The Guy (Sophia’s version)

The Baker and the teacher

About Sophia

Sunday Morning

Holidays

A Long Day

Pretty woman

One shots:

Enjoy The Silence

As The World Falls Down

Two Kids

Sparks

Mine

Tolerate It

Beach Day

The Kids

Touch

The Guy

Cosmic Love

Glutton For Punishment

Emergencies

Tricks and Treats

Field Trip

Deadites and Baseball Bats

Trust

Drunk Melissa

Wonder Woman socks

Tea and Hot Nurses

Only Girl

Smutty Sunday

Realizations

Exes and Ohs

Satin sheets

Puppy love

A shoulder to cry on

Drunk Confessions

Looks

The Yearbook

Autumn Days

Snow Storms

I Am King

New years with the Flyers

Atomic

Hey Jealousy

Nothing Matters

Shining stars

Hardest of Hearts

For Lovers At Night pt 1 pt 2 pt 3

#melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader #Melissa Schemmenti x oc #tv #abbott elementary #lisa ann walter #wlw #lgbtq fiction

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tiredofsatansbullshit · 13 days

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Another chapter of my "The Waynes on Twitter" work on AO3

Masterlist of Tweets

42 - Bruce is high (on painkillers), what could go wrong?

<- Previous Next ->

Taglist: @gin2212 @wizardofstories @kassette-tape @she-went-that-way @terrylicious @kazenotsuyo1 @salz-mit-wasser @sk3tchyrac00n @ejlyt @sonotashipper @deniedmysign @emilynight555 @aurorasleepsin @thereallyreallylatebird @peachykeenlemonbean @cosmic-marauder @anxious-chaos-art @kyrianclawraith @girl-of-the-sea-and-stars @queen-of-hearts-lemon-tarts @addendumbeekeeper @littlecellist @sandwman @akintoabitch @idk-tbh-im-just-here @whydoyoucare866 @arkred @cardinalcheerio @christaspirit @singitoutgirl26 @cryptidnamedhabit @rabidnationalist @yeetus-feetus @dyke-yoonji @justabilingualchileangirl @shadow-academic @zeldathehero @queenofmeansus @starmansirius @valiantsuitcaseskellington @cardinalcheerio @okami-love @seriouscat @formulaonebuff @mirigold-mayflowers @gay-ass-bitch @honestfloorghost

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and-justice-for-zoisite · 1 year

Text

𝒞𝑜𝓈𝓂𝒾𝒸 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒 (Fujin x Tsung! Reader)

Official Masterlist - Part 2

Summary: As the daughter of Shang Tsung, you have an expectation which was set to you since birth: to become the next champion in Mortal Kombat. Naturally, you were supposed to represent Outworld, however, when you come into contact with someone who saved you when you were a child, you realise your perception of good or bad is skewed, and he makes you reconsider your position entirely.

Word Count: 8.4k words

This story was written with the song Cosmic Love By Florence and the Machine as the inspiration!

youtube

I hardly remember it happening. I was only but a small belle with a raging fire in her heart. I was so young. Adventurous.

Stupid.

I don't remember much of it. Of the accident.

Father said it looked like I fell in the river by the palace, during the harsh unforgiving winter, and would've surely perished had I not washed upon shore about twenty feet down the river.

But I don't think I could've washed up to the shallow bed of the river on my own. Someone was there. He saved me. He glowed in my blurred vision as I tried to blink the water out of my eyes and cough it out of my lungs. My body was cold, shivering, and my throat felt like it was freezing.

When I thought I was going to die there, father and his servants came to rescue me, one of them having seen me from a window and alerting everyone in close proximity that I had fallen into the river.

Father told me he'd never felt closer to death than that day. Losing me would've been the last of it, not after my mother passed. Ever since then, he's never taken me back to Earthrealm, my birthplace. I've resided in Outworld since age six, and never had any plans to go back.

Not until I met him.

"(Y/n)?"

…

"(Y/n)!"

…

sigh

"Where could that girl be?"

It wasn't unusual that Shang Tsung would find himself searching hopelessly for his dear and only daughter, within the walls off his grand palace that was due to serve as a venue for the upcoming Mortal Kombat he hosted every generation. Outworld had long claimed this right, and he was prepared for another victory. That would be ten consecutive victories, and he would finally be able to invade and claim Earthrealm with no consequences or backlash by the elder gods. He'd been waiting years for the event, and was eager to have his daughter participate as his champion.

Speaking of...

As the man came closer and closer to the east side of the palace, the sound of loud, familiar thumps became more audible as he walked further. He now knew where his daughter was.

With another sigh, he closed his eyes and abruptly teleported himself to his desired location - that was, just outside, by a scrub of trees, one of which his dear daughter was beating the ever living life out of.

"You know, if you keep neglecting to wear protective bandages, you'll damage your hands far beyond repair," Shang lectured her, noting the bloody state of her hands.

She stopped a moment to look at them, huffing and puffing as she pushed her sweat drenched hair out of her face.

"Damage is what makes me stronger, father," she huffed, wiping the blood on her top as she took fighting stance once again, "you want me prepared for kombat, don't you?" "Yes, of course," he smiled, watching as she continued to punch the tree, "but you don't need to focus primarily on your physical strength. You are a sorceress, after all." "But physically hitting something is what gives me satisfaction," she groaned, focused entirely on her training, "it's no fun if I do something as minimalistic as consuming my opponent's soul or setting a fiery serpent upon them." "But it is getting dark, my dear," Shang pointed out, "won't you come inside?" "I'll come inside when I'm done," she huffed between hits, "when it hurts." "Very well," Shang sighed as he turned to go inside, "just be careful."

She didn't say another word to him as he returned to his palace and she continued her make believe battle with this tree as though they'd been enemies for life.

(Y/n) couldn't feel the cold due to how much sweat she had produced from her, even though it was the dead middle of winter in that realm. She would only feel an occasional bite if she stopped momentarily for a breather, but would always continue non stop for longer periods of time.

She was never scared of the dark, not since she was small, nor was she scared of whatever may inhabit it.

But that night truly did make her forever cautious of it from that moment forward.

From behind the tree was a sudden burst of light, one that would've blinded her had the tree been a little more narrow. For the first time in a long time, she felt that pinch of fear in her chest as she stepped back with uncertainty in her eyes. That was when a man appeared from behind it, levitating and glowing. She could feel a cold breeze come off of him, and was at a complete loss of words as she watched him lower himself to the ground.

"Who..." (Y/n) began in a meek voice, mustering up the courage to put more power into it, "...who are you??" "I, (Y/n) Tsung, am Fujin," he introduced himself, "God of wind." "A god?" she asked, sceptically though his appearance did add up.

He nodded, gesturing a hand toward her.

"I have selected you as my champion," he disclosed, "to defend your birthplace of Earthrealm in mortal kombat." "Wait, wait...hold on," she said, flustered as she ran a hand through her hair, "my father has already selected me as his champion. And I may have been born in Earthrealm, but I represent Outworld." "Oh (Y/n)..." Fujin chuckled, approaching her further so he was within touching distance of her, "you've been my desired champion long before your father selected you."

His hands came to cup her face, and before she could protest, she felt his fingers on her temples and a vision suddenly overcame her. She went limp as she watched her memories. It was that day. The day she fell into the river. She could see it all happen from a neutral perspective. Her body sunk to the bottom of the river and she was caught on a log.

Then her perspective changed. She was herself once again, now at the bottom of the river. She felt herself freezing, when a pair of warm arms grabbed her wrists and pulled her out of the river, laying her in the shallows of it. Finally, after all these years, she could make out the face of her saviour. It was him. Fujin. She had been saved by the God of wind.

When she came back to, she gasped as though her lungs were full of water again, her knees buckling as Fujin helped soften her fall.

"I-it..." she looked up at him, "it was you."

He smiled at her and nodded.

"I've watched you grow, from when you were but an infant all the way up until now," he explained, kneeling down in front of her, his hands still grasping hers, "my brother told me you were a lost cause, but I've known since the moment I saved you that you'd become something amazing." "I..." (Y/n) whispered, shaking her head, "...I don't know what to say. I-I mean I'm so very grateful to have been saved by you, but I already have a place in the tournament." "No place is set in stone," Fujin informed her, "you may switch sides at any time you wish."

He let go of her and stood up.

"I'll tell you what, why don't you come and train with me?" he asked, the girl tilting her head slightly, "perhaps you can decide based off of that whether or not you wish to accept my invitation. It can take from a day, to the day before the tournament, and we can train for as long as you'd like each day."

He offered a hand to her.

"What say you, (Y/n) Tsung?"

That was how she ended up face first to the ground, eating dirt after Fujin had deceived her yet again in kombat for the fifth week she had known him.

"You are reckless, (Y/n)," Fujin told her from his place across from her, "you make predictions that you are far too confident of."

With a groan, she pushed herself up off the ground and wiped the dirt off of her face, finding blood in that mix which she then began to taste in her mouth.

"Any advice, oh mighty all-knowing god?" she mocked him, taking fighting stance once again as she prepared herself. "Expect the unexpected, my feather," he instructed, watching as she ran at him with determination in her eyes.

She went to punch him, and as he blocked it, she instead changed the attack while he was vulnerable and swung her leg to swipe him from his feet. While he admitted internally that she was clever for that, he was still able to dodge it with ease, hopping over her leg.

With one swift movement, he brought his firm straight hand down on her back. She cried out and fell once again, coughing violently at the way the attack winded her. Fujin stood patiently, waiting for her to catch her breath again, and once she had, she turned onto her back and breathed the air back into her lungs.

"How...how do you do it, Fujin?" she breathed out her question, the god smiling sweetly as he offered her a hand.

She took it and he helped her up, though placing a hand either side of her waist.

"Have you ever danced the waltz before?" he asked, though a flustered (Y/n) took a moment to answer. "N-no," she answered in a huff, crossing her arms against her chest, "why does that matter?" "I find kombat very alike to dance," he explained, grabbing her arms and gently unfolding them, "it requires much grace and agility to be effective."

He placed one hand on his shoulder, and the other kept in his own, while he let his remaining hand rest on her waist once again.

"Just follow my lead," he instructed, the woman nodding timidly as he only smiled, "to begin, step back on your right foot."

She did as instructed, and as she did, Fujin stepped forward on his left foot.

"Alright, now take a step to the left."

Again, she did as she was asked, and Fujin did the opposite to her.

She could hardly focus with the feeling of his hands on her body and the way his gentle breath would tickle her face. He smelled like a fresh spring morning, like mist and dewdrops and sunlight.

"Very good," he praised her, "now step forward on your left foot."

For all of this dance, she had been staring down at her own feet, shakily ensuring she made every step correctly. As many would know, it is proper etiquette to look your partner in the eyes while dancing with them, and while he understood why she would struggle with this, he'd still encourage it.

"(Y/n)," he began, his hand moving from her waist to pinch her chin as he drew her face upward so he could look into her eyes, "a dancer always looks their partner in the eyes when conducting a dance."

Staring into his glowing orbs like that, her words got caught in her throat, so she only gulped them back down and nodded. His hand fell away from her face and back down to her waist, and they continued with this lesson.

He tried to hide a giggle at how red her face was, not only from the mix of blood and dirt that she had neglected to properly wipe off before, but also from the blood that was in her face that told him she was flustered. He could almost feel the heat radiating off her face, but he started to think that maybe that was the heat from his own face he was feeling. Not nearly as intensely as she would've been feeling it, but he couldn't help but feel that maybe there was more to their relationship than sensei and student. He wouldn't jump to labels though, he'd merely explore this sensation with her, and whether she reciprocated these feelings or not was entirely out of his hands.

Fujin was snapped out of his thoughts when she stepped on his foot, though obviously by accident she was still very apologetic.

"Oh- I'm so sorry," she gasped softly, attempting to move away from him. "No, no, it's alright," he insisted, keeping a tight hold on her so she couldn't escape his grip, "you're doing very well."

It was from that point that (Y/n) actually began to consider switching sides. This bond she shared with Fujin ran deeper than she ever cared to consider, and she was yet to figure out just what she was destined to do.

"Are you alright, my dear?"

(Y/n) hadn't realised that she had been vacantly staring into her plate of food until the moment she heard her father's voice, looking up at the old man with a dazed look in her eyes.

"Huh?" she hummed, obviously having zoned out. "You've hardly touched your food," Shang pointed out, tilting his head ever so slightly, "is there something the matter?" "I-uh," she stuttered, shaking her head and rubbing her eyes, "no, I'm just...tired is all. Been training non stop for weeks and it's starting to catch up to me."

He smiled endearingly at her and pushed her plate of food closer to her.

"A champion needs their meals to produce energy," he encouraged her, "after all, you'll be fighting in the tournament in a few weeks. You will be my champion."

That horrid sensation of guilt filled her stomach once again, ruining her appetite and putting her entirely off of the meal once more. She loved her father, like any paternally nurtured child would, but after the time she had spent training with Fujin, she realised that her concept of what was good and what was bad wasn't taught correctly.

She was heavily conflicted, so much so that she couldn't even think anymore. And because she couldn't think, she could no longer sleep either.

(Y/n) didn't even want to raise her head when she heard the tapping on her window. She had hardly seen a blink of sleep since her conflicting thoughts began, and her face was far too comfortable nuzzled in her red velvet pillow. At first, she tried to convince herself that it was nothing more than a tree branch or an animal. But of course, what animal would tap repetitively like that?

With a huff, she lifted her head, slowly and painfully turning to see who it was that bothered her in this evening. She didn't know why she was even surprised, she always saw Fujin at this time of the afternoon, it was only natural he came looking for her after she remained loyal for every other day.

Deciding it was only right, she got up from her place on her oh so comfortable bed, leaving it's safety to open the window and see her friend.

"I'm sorry Fujin, I forgot," she sighed apologetically, Fujin shaking his head as a worried look carved itself into his features. "Don't apologise," he demurred, "are you alright?" "Y-yeah," she stuttered, rubbing her forehead, "I'm fine."

The man cocked his brow and tilted his head ever so slightly, and that was all she needed to see to know that he wasn't convinced.

“Fujin, I’m...” she began, closing her eyes as an attempt to stop them from tearing up, “...I’m conflicted.” He didn’t say anything, he only looked down briefly, and she could see that he understood what she was saying. When he looked up again, there was no particular emotion on his face, though it was comforting to her as he held his hand out.

“Would you like to come with me, just for a while?”

(Y/n) truly didn’t want to go anywhere right then, she was tired and upset and feeling more emotions than she ever had in her life. But something in her chest told her that she needed this, she needed to get away from her cave and feel something other than upset for a bit.

She didn’t say anything, she only nodded and took his hand and he helped her out of her window and to the ground. Though they had met the ground, he didn’t let go of her hand, he held it the whole time the two of them walked together in the dark, the forest only illuminated by his ethereal, godly glow which provided (Y/n) with a sense of security. He was warm, he always was.

Shortly, the two of them had arrived at a small little lake/rockpool type thing that had the most beautiful little waterfall that fell into it. What set it aside from any regular little lake was it’s iridescent blue glow that emitted from the stones in the water, and the cute little fireflies that also glowed a gorgeous sapphire in colour. (Y/n) had never known such a place could exist in Outworld, she’d only thought it misery and evil. But she supposed that every world had it’s beautiful secrets.

She’d spent so much time simply admiring it that she hadn’t noticed Fujin removing his shirt, and when (Y/n) did finally notice her face blew up in red and heat.

“W-what are you doing??” she asked, flustered though unable to keep her eyes off of his muscular figure. “I’m going for a swim,” he explained nonchalantly, throwing his shirt over to a large stone so it wouldn’t get wet as he stepped into the shallow part of the water, “you should join me.”

She stood there a moment, shy and bashful, not really knowing what she was doing or where this was going. But why on earth would she pass up this opportunity?

With a huff, she began to disrobe yourself, having considered leaving her pants on but figuring that they would become too heavy in the water due to their baggy nature, so she removed them too. (Y/n) was left in her delicate unders - a white tube top and a matching pair of underwear. They were light and thin for a reason, but it turns out they wouldn’t serve her dignity well in water.

Timidly, (Y/n) approached the water, letting it surround her ankles as it was not freezing, but cold enough to be fresh and crisp to her skin.

“Come on, Feather,” Fujin called from further into the pool, “the water’s nice.”

She hesitantly heeded his call, subtly covering her chest out of embarrassment from the exposure, her skin covered in goose bumps as she didn’t dare look Fujin in the eyes.

Since she had been looking down so long, she was startled when she was splashed with water - water which drenched her chest and even got to her face. (Y/n) looked up in annoyance, only to find Fujin floating there in the water with a cheeky smile adorning his lips.

“You were taking too long,” he teased, all annoyance on her side fading away as she matched his mischievous manner with an evil smirk.

From under the water, she brought up a pair of glowing hands. Fujin knew (Y/n) rarely used her powers, so he was aware that she wasn’t just playing around. From behind him, she summoned a decent wave which drenched him completely, ruining his perfectly done up hair which he decided to undo.

She’d never seen him with his hair down, and needless to say she was glad she drenched him like that for the sake of seeing just how long his hair really was. He just ended up rubbing the salt into the wound by flicking it back and forth, and by then she was sure her face was burning bright red.

“Is that what we’re gonna do?” he asked, pushing his wet hair out of his face as you shrugged. “you started it,” (Y/n) said cheekily, slowly letting herself sink a little further into the water. “alright, if that’s how you’d like to play,” he began, drawing water from the lake with his wind abilities, “then we’ll play.”

(Y/n) shrieked as he splashed her with water once again, though that being one of joy as she had a smile on her face so big that it ached. She had completely abandoned the idea of timidity and embarrassment as she drew more water herself and battled with her mentor. Though when water had it’s limits, the two of them engaged in some light-hearted kombat. At first it remained traditional, with ordinary attacks that involved ordinary blocking and countering, though over time it became more of a playful wrestle, the two of them trying to overpower each other with more extended forms of physical contact, like grabbing each other by the arms and trying to push the other over. Laughter echoed in the rockpools, along with the splashing of water and occasional shrieks. Though when (Y/n) was about to overpower Fujin, he disappeared into the water. She knew what was happening, he was trying to sneak up on her. So she waited, listening carefully, feeling any vibration she could as she remained still in the water. her eyes were closed as she knew vision would be of no use to her in this stealth attack, only sound and touch were necessary.

She could feel him, but perhaps a moment too late as he shot up from the water, engulfing her in his arms from behind as she tried to wrestle herself out of his grip in hysterical laughter. Though as she did, the two of them ended up wandering closer to the shore, and in all of their excitement, the two of them tripped on a larger stone and toppled to the ground.

Fujin was careful to not allow all of his weight to crush her, since he ended up being the one cushioned by her falling first onto her back. All went silent as (Y/n) realised Fujin was hovering over her, a knee between her legs and his hands either side her head. Neither of them spoke, they only stared at each other, unmoving. She was absolutely fixated on him, not a single thought it her mind as he was the same.

Though not a moment later did her thoughts sync, and she understood what exactly was happening. (Y/n) didn’t breathe when Fujin leaned down and captured her in a passionate kiss, only letting the air escape her lungs in a dreamy sigh when she returned his gesture in a fit of hunger and infatuation for him and only him. Her finger laced in his wet hair, and she felt a hand of his caress her waist so innocently yet so obviously out of sexual frustration.

And in those waters he took her.

She knew where she wanted to stand now.

On the day of the tournament, (Y/n) woke up with not another emotion other than pure dread. She felt sick to her stomach from anxiety alone, and she had no idea how she was going to pull this manoeuvre off. Though she knew she had to confront her father about it eventually, she wanted to put it off for as long as she could so she could organise her thoughts, be sure that this was the decision she wanted to make before she did something she regretted.

She was already dressed in her lightest yet most extravagant clothing, the clothing she knew would provide her with the most flexibility and agility, that wouldn’t weigh her down or hinder her performance, because tournament wasn’t something to take lightly. And as she stared at herself in the mirror, adjusting her hair in a way that would keep it out of her face, a loud knock came to her door.

It was her dad, she knew that because he called her name. (Y/n) had no time to think, so she panicked and escaped through her window, running as fast as she could away from that place.

In all of her anxious exhaustion, she found herself at the waterfall Fujin had taken her to that one evening - it was the only place she could think to go. She sat on the rocks, and it was there she began into uncontrollable sobs involuntarily. (Y/n) didn’t know what else to do, so she just cried and cried and cried.

She were startled when she felt a cold hand come to her back, flinching as she looked back to see who it was. Even in her teary vision she could make out Fujin in all his beauty. At first he didn’t even say anything, he only scooped her up and sat with her in his arms, holding her like a child as he let her cry. He held her close enough so that his shirt could catch her tears, and his smell was of some solace to her, so in time she calmed down to a few stray tears and sniffles.

He adjusted her in his lap in a way that allowed him to see her face and cup it, affectionately wiping her tears away with his thumbs.

“You’ll be perfect today, my feather,” he whispered softly, “and no matter what happens, I’ll be here to ensure you have a warm home to fall back onto.”

He pressed his forehead to hers, and she gripped his hands like they were her lifeline, feeling more tears well up in her eyes as she simply started crying again. Fujin just kissed her face and held her tight, waiting patiently for her to be ready.

Fujin entered the walls of Shang Tsung’s palace, his champion at his side as his allies stared in horror and shock.

“What are you doing with that snakes’ offspring??” his brother, Raiden asked in disgust as his own champions mumbled amongst each other. “(Y/n) Tsung is my champion,” Fujin stated confidently, placing a hand on her shoulder, “she is on our side now.” “Are you crazy Fujin??” Raiden fumed, “you’ve recruited the enemy! You may very well have killed us all at that point!” “You don’t see humans like I do, brother,” Fujin nodded toward the woman, “Unlike her father, she is only young and has had the time and opportunity to see the light,” he looked back toward his brother, “have faith in myself and (Y/n), Raiden. I would never have recruited someone who would jeopardise us in Kombat.”

Raiden stared at (Y/n), analysing her and reading her character, reluctant to believe that she would be of any benefit to Earthrealm and it’s survival. But if he trusted anyone, it was his brother - someone like Fujin couldn’t be bewitched by even Shang Tsung’s own flesh and blood. With a sigh of defeat, he looked down and looked back up at her, placing a firm hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t let us down, Tsung sorceress,” he instructed her, the woman nodding confidently as she straightened up. “You have my word, Lord Raiden,” she vowed, a delicate hand over her chest.

Raiden gave her a single nod, and left her side, instructing her as well as his own champions to follow suit.

For the most part, (Y/n) recognised Raiden’s group of champions. Lui Kang, and his good friend Kung Lao, descendant of the great Kung Lao. Edenian allies Princess Kitana and her friend Jade. Though there were some military personnel from Earthrealm who she didn’t recognise. That wasn’t of her biggest concerns, at that moment she was more worried about how she would face her father.

“Lady (Y/n) Tsung!”

Perhaps her father shouldn’t have been her top concern at that time.

(Y/n) was startled when she felt a strong hand grip her wrist and spin her around, finding it was the emperor to this very realm, Shao Kahn, with his Naknadan debt collector goon, Kollector at his side as always. Obviously he hadn’t noticed the group she were with, assuming she had only gotten lost in the crowd as he was good friends of her fathers’ and would never think her to betray the man. The group unknowingly left her behind as she entertained the emperors greeting.

“Shao Kahn, e-excellent to see you as always!” she beamed nervously, trying not to sound too suspicious as the man placed his hands on his hips confidently. “I am keen on seeing you in kombat today,” he declared in his powerful voice, “I’m sure your father will be very proud.” “Uh, speaking of my father,” she began, scratching the back of her neck, “you haven’t seen him around yet, have you?” “I had just spoken with him, he was at the buffet greeting other guests and kombatants,” Shao Kahn answered, the woman nodding. “Okay, great, thank you. Be seeing you, Shao Kahn!” she thanked him briefly, rushing off before he could ask her why she went in the opposite direction to where he had directed her.

(Y/n) wanted to find the group before she found anymore of her father’s friends who would no doubt stop her to talk to her about the tournament. But they, as well as herself, were lost in the crowd of mixed races from across the realms, though predominantly Earthrealmers, Outworlders and Edenians.

Though despite her great efforts to avoid her father, (Y/n) felt his presence behind her and she was all too late to get away.

“(Y/n)!” her father called for her from behind, grabbing her wrist like Shao Kahn did but in a much gentler way, “where have you been? I’ve been looking all over for you.” “Father...” she tried to speak, though choking on her own guilt, “...I...”

He stared at her intently, waiting patiently for her to speak. But the words never came, and she simply hugged him. She figured that if she was becoming allies with his enemy, this would be the last chance she’d get to hug him again. Momentarily the man was confused, but didn’t make questioning affection a habit as he closed his arms around her and gave her a tender hug within the crowd. (Y/n) felt her eyes tear up, but she didn’t dare cry, she only savoured the moment, before he pulled back and gave her a proud smile that tore her heart in two.

“Now come along, you’re to be presented alongside Emperor Shao Kahn and his daughter,” her father instructed.

Before (Y/n) could protest, he was dragging her along through the crowd, eventually coming to the thrones that centred what would classically be a ballroom, though in this case was a kombat ring. Though she had just interacted with him, Shao Kahn had quickly gone to claim his place on the centred throne, his daughter Mileena - a long time friend of (Y/n)’s - at his side in her own place. Being at the centre stage, she was much too afraid to begin confrontation then and there, so she obeyed her father’s orders of taking her own seat, beside her fathers which was next to Shao Kahn’s throne. Mileena looked across at (Y/n) and chucked her a playful glance, though not reciprocating her mood as she gave her a polite nod before looking back over the crowd.

Shang Tsung captured the attention of eager kombatants as he stood up and clapped once, silencing the crowd.

“In the beginning, were the elder gods. In their wisdom, they created a tournament to safeguard each realm from the threat of invasion,” he began as standard protocol, “once a generation, the finest warriors must battle to decide the fate of their realm. The winner will be granted long life and great power. If one realm wins the tournament ten times consecutively, they will gain the right to merge with the opposing realm, and rule as they see fit.”

His hands came to rest in one another before his chest, as he smiled ever so slightly.

“I, Shang Tsung, emissary of the great Shao Kahn - emperor of Outworld, winner of the last nine tournaments against Earthrealm - welcome you to Mortal Kombat.”

There was a surge of excitement and cheering within the crowd below, those of every race impatient to draw some blood and break some bones not only for the sake of their realm, but the sake of causing pain and suffering to others. Earthrealmers weren’t as keen on the idea of having fun here - only surviving and ensuring that this tournament wasn’t won by Shao Kahn at any cost.

(Y/n) would fight by her father until duty called for her to switch sides - and such an event was inevitable. Her father turned around to look at her, stepping over to her side as he held a hand out for her.

“My champion, and only child, (Y/n) Tsung,” he announced as she took his hand and stood up, hearing the crowd cheer at her name, particularly those of Outworld as they knew her to put up a decent fight, “will be fighting on behalf of the Outworld tonight.”

Guilty, she looked over toward Fujin and his brother Raiden. The thunder god was glaring at her with hatred and a sense of betrayal, however when she cast her sight over to Fujin she felt a sense of relief wash over her, his eyes filled with nothing but love and patience as he knew she would not betray them that night.

(Y/n) was met with her first opponent, an arrogant man who didn’t seem the slightest bit intimidated by her, most likely because she was only a girl to him, and where he came from, most girls didn’t really fight. That was okay, she wasn’t offended, in fact, his underestimation would give her an advantage.

The fight began, and (Y/n) unleashed her agility and skill, surprising her opponent with her speed and precision. She dodged his attacks effortlessly, countering with swift and calculated strikes. Each move she made showcased her mastery of combat techniques inherited from her father, combined with her own unique style. The crowd watched in awe as she gracefully evaded her opponent's every move.

As the battle intensified, (Y/n) could feel the eyes of her father and Fujin on her. When she remembered her father, she felt anxious. But whenever she remembered Fujin’s presence, she felt it working hard to wash away her anxieties, strengthening her resolve and giving her the power to continue. She tapped into her inner strength, focusing her energy and unleashing a powerful combination of strikes that left her opponent staggering.

With a final decisive blow, (Y/n) emerged victorious, and the crowd erupted in cheers and applause. There, the man lay on the ground, a groaning blood covered mess, and (Y/n) could feel the guilt intensely as she looked across at him, knowing exactly what was to come next.

“Finish him,” Shao Kahn commanded of her.

She glanced at her father, who nodded solemnly, reminding her of the stakes they were playing for. This was it - if she finished this man, there was no way she could represent Earthrealm, like a contract, binding her to this land.

(Y/n) approached him, slowly, as everyone around them watched with anticipation, ready to see her tear him a part. At first, she was thinking of ditching this whole idea of joining the good guys and killing him, to save herself the pain of having to betray her father. But, when he looked up at her, outwardly unafraid though she could see a glint of fear in his eyes, she felt her breath hitch in her throat.

“...I...I can’t.”

There was a few gasps followed by a surge of chatter amongst the crowd at the shocking announcement. (Y/n) sighed as she extended a hand for the man. At first, he eyed it suspiciously, afraid that this was some sort of sick joke or set up which would lead to a humiliating death. She understood why he would think such a thing, but remained patient, tilting her head and giving him a sincere smile.

Reluctantly, he reached out and grabbed her hand, surprised when all she did was help pull him onto his feet. She let go of his hand and took a step back, giving him a moment to collect himself. The crowd fell into a stunned silence, unsure of how to react to this unexpected turn of events. (Y/n) could feel the weight of everyone's eyes on her, but she could no longer hide from what was rightfully her fate.

“Father, I do not represent Outworld in kombat,” she began, turning to face Shang Tsung, “I don’t stand for these cruel things you promote within this land. I have seen the suffering caused by the tournaments - by Outworld, the pain and loss inflicted upon innocent lives. I cannot be a part of it any longer. Now, I fight for Earthrealm."

Shang Tsung's expression turned cold and furious. He couldn't believe what he was hearing from his own daughter.

"You dare defy me, (Y/n)? After all I've done for you? I raised you to be a powerful sorceress, the next champion of Outworld!"

(Y/n) stood tall, her voice unwavering.

"You raised me to be more than just a weapon, Father. I have learned compassion and empathy. I cannot turn a blind eye to the suffering caused by these battles. Earthrealm and its people deserve a chance at peace."

Shang Tsung stared at his daughter in disbelief, as a piercing silence towered over the kombat hall. He was stunned, hurt, heartbroken, this couldn’t be true.

“You are bewitched, daughter!” he accused, pointing a finger at her.

(Y/n) shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes.

"No, Father, I am not bewitched. I have made a choice, a choice to stand against the cruelty and violence. I want to fight for a better world, a world where all realms can coexist in peace."

Shang Tsung's anger turned into a mix of disappointment and sadness. He struggled to find the words to respond, his voice barely a whisper.

"I thought I raised you better than this, (Y/n). But it seems I have failed as a father."

(Y/n) stepped closer to him, her voice filled with emotion.

"No, Father, you didn't fail. You gave me the skills and knowledge, but I have chosen a different path. I can no longer follow the path of darkness."

Shang Tsung looked into his daughter's eyes, searching for any trace of doubt or hesitation. But all he found was determination and resolve.

"Very well, (Y/n). If this is the path you have chosen, then I cannot stand in your way. But know this, you are no longer my daughter. From this moment on, you are my enemy - Outworld’s enemy."

Tears streamed down (Y/n)'s face as she nodded, her heart heavy with the weight of her decision. She didn’t say anything else - she couldn’t. The consequences of her decision had finally come crashing down upon her, but she knew she couldn’t fold to this guilt trip. She had to remain strong, for Earthrealm’s sake.

“Should anything have happened to you, I have prepared a second champion to use at my disposal,” Shang Tsung began, cutting through the silence once again and piquing everyone’s interest, “I suppose he will be of great use at this time.”

Shang Tsung clicked his fingers once, as if he were summoning someone.

“Prince Goro.”

(Y/n) felt her heart sink at the name which her father had called, hearing earth shaking footsteps which echoed within the halls of her former home as the warrior summoned came to the kombat hall.

The shokan prince stood tall and confident at Shang Tsung’s side, towering menacingly over everyone in the room with the staggering height difference and his sheer body mass. His four massive arms were a clear display of his formidable strength. Goro's eyes locked with (Y/n)'s, and there was a mix of curiosity and recognition in his gaze. They had crossed paths before, in training sessions and sparring matches when she was still under her father's tutelage.

But, like most Outworld fighters, he was merciless.

“The tournament shall now continue.”

(Y/n) turned into the crowd, joining them with the man she had just fought following her as the next kombatants were prepared for the next fight. They approached the group which (Y/n) had entered with, and the tension that had been there before regarding her presence had diminished, which she assumed was from her display of loyalty.

Fujin approached her, wiping the residual tears from her face as Raiden stared.

“I am sorry for ever doubting you, (Y/n) Tsung,” he apologised, though his voice was still firm and assertive, “I understand that it must’ve been hard to part with your father in that way.” "It was one of the hardest decisions I've ever made," she replied, her voice filled with a mix of sadness and determination. "But I couldn't continue to stand by and watch the suffering. Earthrealm needs us now more than ever."

Now, most Outworld fighters seemed more arrogant than they were skilled, and now that (Y/n) had switched onto her rightful side, she was able to give her now fellow kombatants tips when fighting various opponents, and most importantly, pinpoint all of their weaknesses for her allies to use at their disposal.

The tournament progressed nicely, and so far, no one who represented Earthrealm had lost a match yet, save for you defeating the man you had come to know as Johnny Cage at the beginning of it all. You guys were almost through with it all, having defeated most of Outworld’s opponents. All who was left now, was Prince Goro.

A member of the special forces, Jax Briggs, had volunteered to take on Goro, considering he was quite large and burly himself. (Y/n) wasn’t entirely confident in his ability to battle the shokan warrior, though she wouldn’t say anything out of fear of being criticised by her peers who were already weary of her.

As Jax stepped into the ring, he prepared himself for the fight, stretching as his face displayed not even a hint of fear. After a moment, they were set to kombat. The battle between Jax and Goro commenced, the two combatants circling each other, measuring their opponent's strength. Jax relied on his immense physical power and combat training, while Goro unleashed his brute force and four deadly arms.

With every strike, Jax's muscles bulged, and he displayed remarkable agility for his size. He aimed powerful punches and bone-crushing kicks at Goro, determined to bring the shokan prince down.

The crowd held their breath, their eyes fixated on the intense fight unfolding before them. (Y/n) watched anxiously, her heart pounding in her chest.

While the man did put up a good fight, it was only inevitable that he would become tired.

Jax seemed to slip up, and Goro seized the opportunity and grabbed onto the smaller man’s arms. You bit your lip as you saw exactly what was to come from this.

Agonisingly, everyone watched as Goro began stretching the man, holding onto his body with his two lower arms while his two upper arms had a tight grasps on Jax’s arms. Jax began screaming as he realised what was happening, and soon enough, both of his arms had been torn clean off.

There was an audible gasp within the audience, and it was clear who the victor was.

Despite all the blood he was losing, Jax seemed to still be alive, as his special forces partner Sonya Blade dragged him out of the ring, allowing Raiden to seal his wounds over with his powers to stop the bleeding.

(Y/n) looked between everyone, guilt pooling in her gut, and she knew in that moment that she could no longer hold her silence.

“I must face him,” she announced, causing the frantic chatter to cease as everyone within her group looked at her, “I’m the only one here who has the knowledge that I do about Prince Goro. And regardless, if anyone should die at his hands, it should be me - not anyone else.”

No one argued with her, they were all simply stunned at the announcement. Fujin approached her, placing a firm yet affectionate hand on her shoulder.

“I believe in you, my feather,” he assured her, his eyes fixated on hers, “you will not fail us today, you have my faith.”

She took a deep breath, steeling herself for the imminent battle that awaited her. With her heart heavy and her determination unwavering, she approached the ring where Goro stood, his gaze fixed upon her.

As (Y/n) stepped into the ring, the air was thick with tension. The crowd fell into a hushed silence, their eyes locked on the sorceress about to face the monstrous shokan prince. She could feel the weight of their expectations and the weight of her own conviction.

Goro's four arms flexed, his eyes narrowing with anticipation. He towered over (Y/n), his towering presence seemingly insurmountable. But she refused to let fear consume her.

Their starting cue was called, and the kombat was instant. Compared to Goro, (Y/n) was obviously much more agile, so every reckless punch and kick he threw at her, she was able to dodge with ease, counterattacking swiftly with precise strikes. He was yet to lay a hit on her, and to him that was torture.

(Y/n) had studied Goro's fighting style extensively and knew that his size and brute strength were his greatest assets. She focused on exploiting his vulnerabilities, targeting the joints in his arms and legs, aiming to immobilize him and diminish his advantage.

Though, getting too close was a great risk, and it seems that not even she could evade his close contact attacks.

As she aimed to kick in the back of his leg while she presumed he was not focused, he spun around, his fist connecting with her face as she was sent flying backward, to the edge of the ring.

There was a slight pause as (Y/n) regained her senses. That was the first hit he had made on her, and that may well have been enough to doom her for the rest of the match. She reached up to touch her face, finding that when she pulled her hand away, that there was blood, most likely pouring out of her nose though she couldn’t be sure.

Her eyes drew upward toward her opponent, and suddenly, they began glowing green as she conjured magic in her hands. This was an indicator that, should she win, she would not spare the Prince’s life. It was becoming all too real, and even the crowd was stunned by this revelation.

Their fight continued, considerably more violent than it had been beforehand. The green magic which circled (Y/n)’s fists proved a worthy advantage, as her hits now seemed to pack a little more punch than before and had visible effects on her opponent. Goro could easily match this energy, and naturally his movements became more erratic, each hit he threw with the intention to kill.

(Y/n) threaded in and out of his space, weaving through each hit he threw as she tried to get close enough once again to place a hit that would wind him enough that she could hit him with a final blow. However, in doing this, in her concussed state, she would find herself coat-hangered by the shokan prince, catching her on his elbow as he drew her in and began choking her out.

Clawing at his arms, she spluttered desperately trying to free herself though at this point it was useless. Her face was becoming bright red as she suffocated, searching her mind for any answer at all which could help her out of this situation.

Her Earthrealm allies watched with anxiety, and Fujin’s patience had worn thin as he prayed for her to do something - anything, to defeat this beast and return safely to him.

(Y/n) could slowly feel herself losing consciousness, as old memories played back in her mind. It was true - your life did flash before you when you were about to die.

In her mind, she saw her earliest memories - her mother’s death, her near death experience, being raised by her father.

Then, her most recent memories, and her encounters with her father before this moment.

(Y/n) felt a rush of adrenaline force it’s way through her body, and she felt herself react in a blanked out state of mind. Before she knew it, the Shokan prince was dead.

Everyone observed in quiet shock.

Shoved through Goro’s face was the blade of a glowing green gauntlet which (Y/n) had summoned in her fist. As it retracted, Goro took a few mindless steps back before he fell to the ground.

Goro, the Shokan Prince, was dead.

Her father was right about one thing, she definitely could rely on her sorceress powers more often.

There was an uproar of cheering and celebration, namely amongst her Earthrealm allies.

Exhausted, (Y/n) collapsed, falling onto her back as she breathed heavily. In her blurred and muffled senses, she could still easily make out the face which hung over her - Fujin, of course, who was knelt down beside her.

Fujin's expression was a mixture of relief and concern as he gently cradled (Y/n)'s head in his hands. He could see the exhaustion etched on her face and the toll the battle had taken on her.

"You did it, my feather," he said softly, his voice filled with admiration. “You’ve saved Earthrealm for another generation. I’m so very proud of you, (Y/n).”

(Y/n) managed a weak smile as she gazed up at him. Even as she coughed up a little more blood, Fujin still couldn’t help but have an affectionate eye for her.

As the adrenaline began to wear off, the pain from her injuries intensified, and her body protested against the strain it had endured. But she couldn't help feeling a sense of fulfilment and accomplishment.

Earthrealm was safe for another generation, and (Y/n) was safe with her lover in a new home.

Though, these events would weigh on her for the rest of her life, and naturally, the consequences of her betrayal would come back to haunt her.

Part 2 boys??? T-T

#fujin x reader #fujin mortal kombat #fujin #mortal kombat #mortal kombat 11 #mortal kombat x reader #angst #Angst with a happy ending

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