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neon-lights-and-glitter · 2 months

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Fight The Feeling Part 16- Becoming Parents

Summary - You give birth to you and Jack's daughter.

Warnings - Labor, and C-sections

“I’m telling you I shouldn’t go, what if you go into labor while I’m gone?” Jack asked. It had been a few weeks since your Bahama’s trip, and you were about a week away from your due date. Jack had booked two club shows in Las Vegas before either of you knew you were pregnant. With everything else, the club shows had slipped Jack’s mind until he was reminded by his team.

“You’ll be gone less than 12 hours, our families are here, Clay can come stay with me, it will be okay. You’re going to have a private jet, and you can fly in right before your show and out right after.” You reassured him.

“I just, I don’t even like going home for two hours and leaving you alone. I don’t want to be in a completely different state. I’m just going to cancel.”

“Jack, I’m telling you it will be fine. The doctor said I’ll probably go into labor late, ”

“Okay, I won’t cancel, but if you show even one sign of going into labor I’m canceling,” Jack said.

Over the next few days, Jack practically had Neelam on speed dial and prepared to cancel the show at a moment's notice. He had been staying at your apartment, not wanting you to be alone when you went into labor. If Jack had to go to his apartment, he tried to be gone for an hour or less. He had brought a lot of his stuff that he needed over, but he was far from moved in.

The night before Jack was supposed to leave for Las Vegas, you barely got any sleep, you were uncomfortable, which wasn’t uncommon. What was uncommon was the amount of contractions you had overnight, nothing consistent, you just assumed they were Braxton hicks as you had been getting more and more of them recently. Though Braxton hicks usually went away, and by the time Jack woke up, you were on hour three of them.

You were in the kitchen, eating a toasted frozen waffle, your most recent craving when Jack walked.

“Good morning, what are you doing up already?” Jack asked, due to your trouble sleeping, Jack was used to waking up before you.

“I couldn’t sleep, then I decided I wanted waffles,” You said, and Jack pretended to shake his head disapprovingly.

“How are you feeling?”

“I feel okay, I feel like I could be having contractions, but I can’t tell if they are just Braxton hicks or not,” You said, Jack immediately pulled out his phone.

“Have you been timing them?” He asked and you shook your head.

“Not officially, but I think they’ve been every like 15 minutes.”

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” Jack asked, stealing a bite of your waffle. You glared at him.

“Stealing your pregnant girlfriend's waffle while she’s in labor isn’t nice, you know.”

“Oh, I’ll make you another one, plus, if I asked you before I stole a bite of your waffle would you have said you were in labor?” Jack asked teasingly, walking around the counter.

“No, I wouldn’t have. But I didn’t wake you up because the contractions don’t hurt that bad, they are just uncomfortable, and honestly, I didn’t even think they were contractions until an hour ago.”

“Fine, but you should have woken me up anyway,” Jack said, putting another waffle into the toaster. “I’m also making a decision to cancel my show.”

“Jack,”

“Nope, don’t want to hear it, you’re having contractions, I’m texting Neelam, and I’m not going to Vegas tonight. It will be okay, you and the baby come first,” Jack said, texting Neelam quickly before he pulled your waffle out of the toaster. “Wait, aren’t you supposed to not be eating if you're in labor?” Jack asked.

“Well, it’s really early, so I think I’m fine, plus I think that only applies once we get to the hospital. I’m not really sure.” You said, Jack brought you your waffle on a plate. “Thank you.”

“Should I call your doctor and let her know you went into labor?” Jack asked. “Oh, should I call our parents? Wait, I need to put our bags in the car.” Now that Jack was a little more awake, the reality of the situation was hitting him, and he was starting to panic. He didn’t know what to do first.

“We should probably time my contractions before we do anything.”

“Oh, yeah, you’re right,” Jack calmed down, but you could tell by his fidgeting that he was still nervous.

“But if it makes you feel better, you can put the bags in the car.” Jack nodded immediately and got up, rushing to put the bags in his car.

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Jackharlowfan37 Jack via his ig story

Jackharlowfan 492 WHAT

JackandYNfan3 OMG OMG what if the baby is born

YNfan19 I don’t think they’ve said the due date right? JackandYNfan302 Why did he cancel the day of? If it’s the baby, he shouldn’t have scheduled a show so close to her due date.

About two hours of timing your contractions, you and Jack realized that your contractions were regular, but after calling your doctor, you all decided that your contractions were still too far apart to go to the hospital.

You were in the middle of a contraction, when there was a knock on your door.

“Oh shit, it’s probably Urban, I didn’t tell him we aren’t going to Vegas.”

“You can go answer it,” You said.

“You sure?” Jack asked, and you nodded.

“Yeah, it’s Urban, I don’t care. Plus he was supposed to be bringing me cookies from that place by his apartment, so you better let him in,” You joked and Jack laughed, getting up and answering the door. Jack came back a minute later, Urban following behind him.

“My best friends are going to be parents!” Urban cheered as he stepped into your living room.

“What did you think was happening the last 9 months? Don’t tell me you thought I ate a watermelon seed this whole time,” You joked, both Urban and Jack looking at you confused. “What? Did your parents never tell you if you swallowed a watermelon seed, you’d grow a watermelon in your stomach?”

“No?” Urban said, and Jack shook his head. “But, here are your cookies, let me know when you guys go to the hospital, I can’t wait to meet my niece, and I’m still down to take some newborn photos of her whenever you guys are ready.” Urban reminded you both before leaving.

Over the next 3 hours, your contractions picked up quite a bit. Since they were about five minutes apart, your doctor suggested you go to the hospital. Your doctor made sure there was a room ready for you, and when you arrived, you were led through a side entrance.

Once you were in the room, you were checked by a nurse. You were 4cm dilated, and due to the fact that the baby was low, and your water hadn’t broken yet, they decided to break your water. Even though you were 4cm dilated, your contractions weren’t very strong yet, so they thought breaking your water would induce your labor.

And they were right. You had the goal of giving birth without an epidural, but after 3 hours of your contractions being stronger, and you weren’t sure you were going to.

“You’re so fucking lucky I forgave you before I went into labor, because I’m not so sure that I would have after this,” You said, half joking.

“I wish there was something more I could do. You know you can get the epidural, you don’t have to prove to yourself that you can give birth without it. I know that you can, and if you want to, that’s completely fine. But epidural or not, the result is going to be the same. We’re getting a baby either way.” Jack knew you were stubborn, and while he wanted the decision to get an epidural or not to be yours, he also hated seeing you in pain.

“I know, I want to try though,” You said and Jack nodded.

Jack didn’t leave your side. Literally. Even when your nurse suggested bouncing on a yoga ball, Jack pulled up a chair and sat in front of you. Jack placed his hands on your hips to help steady you as you leaned into him, resting your forehead on his shoulder.

Several hours later, after being checked several times by nurses, they came to the conclusion that despite your contractions getting stronger since they broke your water, you weren’t progressing naturally.

The doctor started you on pitocin to try to get your labor to progress, which is also when you decided to get the epidural. You needed relief from your contractions. You even took a nap, Jack still not leaving your side.

“J?” You asked, Jack immediately looked up from his phone.

“Oh shit, didn’t realize you woke up.”

“It’s okay, I just woke up. Can you hand me my ice?” You asked and Jack nodded.

“Of course,” Jack got up, grabbing your cup and bringing it to you.

“Thank you.”

“How are you feeling?” Jack asked, pushing your hair out of your face.

“Tired, but the epidural helped a lot with the pain.”

“I’m sorry.” Jack kissed the top of your head. “I really wish I could help.”

“Jack, it’s okay. You’re literally doing everything that you can. You have been more than supportive, I promise,” You said, and Jack nodded.

Soon after you woke up, a nurse came in to check you again, but you still weren’t progressing.

“So, since you aren’t progressing, we have some options,” She said. “We can continue the pitocin, the baby is handling contractions well, her heart rate occasionally drops just below the normal amount, but nothing concerning since it comes right back up. Or we can start considering a C-Section. I don’t feel comfortable upping the pitocin because of how the baby's heart rate is,” The doctor explained.

“How much longer do you think we should wait?” You asked.

“I’d say an hour, we’ll keep a close eye on babies heart rate, if we feel like we should stop the pitocin sooner, we will. If you progress, then we will decide if we want to keep trying, but if not, I would recommend going the route of a c-section.”

You were able to hold it together until the doctor walked out, but as soon as she did, you burst into tears. Jack sat on the edge of the hospital bed, wrapping his arms around you, kissing the top of your head.

“I’m sorry, I know this isn’t what you wanted,” Jack apologized.

“I feel so stupid for being upset. I want her to be healthy, and I can’t wait for her to be here. I just didn’t imagine my labor going like this. I didn’t want this epidural, and I didn’t want a c-section.”

“It’s okay to be upset,” Jack said.

“I’m just scared.”

“It’s okay to be scared too, but nothing’s going to happen to you, I’ll be right by your side,” Jack promised. Secretly he was terrified too. All he wanted was for you and the baby to be safe and healthy.

Jack spent the next hour sitting on the edge of your bed, whispering comforting words to you. By the time the doctor came back to check you, you had time to process everything, so you felt better. It wasn’t what you wanted, but you knew no matter what you were going to be able to hold your daughter, so that’s all that mattered. You hadn’t progressed since the doctor last checked you, so she stopped the pitocin, and after explaining the process of a c-section, everyone was on the same page and agreed it was the best thing to do.

After that, everything moved quickly, and you were being wheeled into the operating room. You were prepped before Jack was allowed into the room. Jack stood up by your head as a sheet was placed to block your view of your stomach. Jack rubbed his hand on your shoulder, giving you something else to focus on other than the surgery that was about to happen.

The c-section went quickly and within minutes you and Jack heard your daughter crying. You looked up at Jack, who was tearing up as he looked towards your daughter. Nurses quickly checked her over before she was laid on your chest, you wrapped your arms around her and Jack gently rested his hand on top of her head.

“She’s beautiful,” Jack whispered, looking down at you, kissing you as you looked up at him. “I’m so proud of you.”

You both kept your full attention on the baby as you were stitched up. Once the doctors were done, you were wheeled into a recovery room.

“Can I hold her?” Jack asked.

“She’s your daughter too, of course you can,” You said, you and Jack carefully exchanging her.

“She’s so small,” Jack said, brushing the tips of his finger against her cheek. He studied every detail of her face as he looked at her, holding her close to his chest. “It doesn’t feel real that we are parents to someone as special as her.”

“She really is so special already. We’re lucky to be her parents.” Jack held her for a little while until you were wheeled out of recovery and back to your room. Now that you were feeling a little better, you held her again.

“She looks like you,” You said, looking over at Jack before looking down at her again.

“You think so? I think she looks like you,” Jack said, gently pushing her blanket away from her face.

“She has your eyes, that’s for sure,” You said, “I can’t wait for everyone to meet her. She is going to be so loved.”

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Yourusername A little sneak peak into my camera roll recently, featuring Madelyn Willow Harlow.

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Liked by Yourusername, Selenosunni, Urbanwyatt, YNandJackfan0239, and 8,382,284 Others

Jackharlow I've never been in awe of someone more than I am of my daughter, Madelyn Willow Harlow, and Y/Ninsta for giving birth to our daughter. I don't think I can put into words how special it has been for me to watch Y/N bring our daughter into the world. Pregnancy isn't easy, and I know that labor certainly wasn't any easier. It certainly didn't go the way we expected, but you handled it amazingly. I'm so lucky that I get to go through the journey of parenting with you. Even though it's only been a few days, and we're both sleep deprived, I think we're handling it well so far.

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#jack harlow #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow x reader

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onewmin · 11 months

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better man | knj (18+)

part 2 of “shreds”.

Pairing: idol!Kim Namjoon x idol!female!reader

Summary: Two years have passed after your breakup with Namjoon.

Warnings: SMUT (minors DNI), oral (f. and m. receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it up buddies), a bit of dirty talk, praises, cheating, mentions of pregnancy and abortion, profanity, typos, unhealthy relationship, possessive bf Namjoon

Author’s note: hope you enjoy the part 2! I haven’t planned on writing it, but here we are :) tell me what you think!!

Tags: @namjooningera @namtaeh

Disclaimer: the names and appearances of real people are used for inspiration and writing purposes only. I do not claim anything, everything belongs to its owners.

P.S. The pictures are taken from Pinterest, so if you know their owners, please let me know!

Wedding planning was not a piece of cake.

Sure, you’ve had multiple assistants and your friends helping you out — however, it was still a really hard thing to do. To fit everything into your schedule was nearly impossible, but you tried, moving rehearsals to early mornings, studio sessions to late nights and taking the whole afternoon for the wedding stuff. Just as your wedding was around the corner — three months before it — you landed in Seoul after the tour. And since then, it has been nothing but a crazy roller coaster.

Your company has decided you have to be prepared for your next comeback in advance; as your boss said, you would be too relaxed to get back to your regular rhythm after the honeymoon. Not that you disagreed.

Your fiancé wasn’t that happy about your new rushy routine: he couldn’t but get infuriated every time he had to pick you up in a state of literal exhaustion; you had to beg him not to quarrel with your bosses, reassuring him that’s what you wanted yourself too. Whenever you spoke of it, he agreed.

You couldn’t ever admit even to yourself you were the type of girl to enjoy wedding planning. You’d look arrogantly when your girlfriends gushed over wedding dresses and party planning, trying to seem untouchable, “not-like-other-girls” type of girlie. But you were. The second Namjoon hinted at the wedding, in your head you were already at the altar, bouquet of light pink roses in your hands, the veil covering your face.

But Kim Namjoon never came to the altar. He was a runaway groom, who was standing at the church doors, but never took a step forward. Throughout eight years of being with him, your dress’ white color turned into yellow, the roses withered and the veil got covered in a thick layer of dust. You turned into a Corpse Bride while being alive and breathing, with your own evil boyfriend who, in reality, never wanted to marry you.

The sheer amount of freedom you felt the second you let him go was mind blowing. It was overwhelming, how you could dress up in those tight, revealing outfits without his judgement or lingering jealousy. You were his girl, but only behind closed doors. However, even being kept as a secret, you had to be cautious with what you wore, who you talked with. For god’s sake, if someone flirted with you, and you laughed it off? Namjoon would be clenching his jaw in the back of the room, all pent up frustration later turned into aggressive make out session. He’d grab handfuls of your ass, squeeze your hips, bite your lips till they were a light shade of purple. “You’re mine”, he’d growl into your skin, leaving love marks all over your neck, “and mine only”.

You loved being his, even as an illicit affair. When the two of you met, never in a million years you’d think this relationship could last that long. You were nineteen, freshly debuted as a soloist, slowly building up your career and fanbase. He was twenty, a well-known star already, but not worldwide popular. Having been a promising songwriter, you were assigned to work with his group by your company. It would bring a great benefit to all of us, they said. Oh yeah, it did.

You two seemed to hit it off in an instant; you’d stay there, long hours spent in the studio, writing and sharing your lyrics with one another. He’d write about his ex-girlfriend, you’d write about your previous relationship with the high-school ex. No wonder, several months later you ended up staring at him in awe, as he held out a bouquet of pink roses, his face matching the shade of the flowers.

“Go on date with me”, he uttered, voice a bit shaky. “And go out with me”.

You agreed to both simultaneously, taking the bouquet from his hands, the smell of your favourite flowers, associating with him, forever etched on your memory.

Your date turned out to be the quietest you’d been on. You had a picnic in the park, with people surrounding you — sure, not every freaking person knew him back then. You shared fruits and berries, as he read his favorite poems to you, while you were sitting beside him. And as the end of the day approached, apricot colored sunset drawing everyone’s attention to it, Namjoon took your hand in his. You remember looking at him as he watched the sunset, your interwoven hands on his lap, a big delighted smile on his face. You returned it, even though he wasn’t looking at you, and put your head on his shoulder, immediately melting to his warmth. That was the moment you fell in love with him. And that was the moment, one of many, you kept reminding yourself of whenever any doubts about him would creep up in your brain.

The boy you fell in love with turned into a man. The man had this intimidating aura to him, so mysterious yet so fluffy at the same time. He was still that boy who held your hand under the table and blushed every time you pecked him on the cheek. But the man Namjoon grew up to be was more demanding, his hand creeping up your thigh under the table now, fingers playing with the hem of your panties. You hated when he did that, but he never listened to your complaints.

The man also turned all the promises the boy gave you into empty ones. He gave you the ring three years in the relationship — a simple one that you saw in one cheap jewelry shop, with light purple flowers engraved on it — and promised he’d give you a real one when the time comes. You believed the boy, but the man was the person you couldn’t put your trust in. You didn’t need the ring, nor the promises; the only thing you wanted was openness. You were tired of hiding, tired of women flirting with him and him flirting back — well, it’s not like the two of you were official — tired of lying to everyone. The only thing you craved was him claiming your relationship, being proud of it.

As the two years passed, you realized there was never even a hint of pride in him. Namjoon was comfortable in the relationship with you, as you were ready to put everything at stake just for him, but he, himself? His career was a superiority to everything, always. How foolish of you was to even think that he would put you in the top list of his priorities?

So you broke it off, the relationship, the engagement, the promise you’d give to each other years ago. “To grow up, and to grow old together”, sounded like a wedding vow — there was yet another lie you fed yourself with every time he’d reject going public with you. Or, “Happiness is in privacy”, you mom would say. Wrong. Happiness is in not being scared to show your partner off. Happiness is in being proud of your relationship. That’s what you understood when your new boyfriend appeared at the horizon, putting your loneliness to an end.

It’s been almost two years and a half after you breakup with Namjoon now. He enlisted in the military not long after, texting you to ask, “Will you wait for me?”. You answered negatively, blocking his number and all of his accounts, too. The audacity this man has, you thought while crying your eyes out, asking if I’d wait for him? Seriously?

You read the news about him obsessively, though. The first few months after the breakup you unblocked him several times, waiting, hoping he’d text you. If he had done that, you’d have been crawling on your knees back to him, back to the mess your relationship turned into. But he never did.

Drowning in the mere presence of him, created by the news articles, fanfiction you’d read, edits you’d watched — anything to build up an image of him being beside you. However, the more you drowned, the more disgusted you’d become. Seeing his face on the screen didn’t bring you the necessary joy anymore — you were exhausted of his dimples, his voice, the mere image of him. Several months passed before you caught yourself not thinking of him anymore. It’d hurt a little bit if someone spoke of him or if you saw his face — but only because your heart was aching for you. You didn’t think about Namjoon anymore, and that’s when you were ready to move on.

You met Park Dae-Hyun at a party, the one your company made you come to. As a brand ambassador, you had to attend; the next morning you’d read how every tabloid tossed your photos around, saying how skinny you looked, speculating that it was the breakup affecting you that way. Everybody knew you were back on the single market, and everybody wanted to find out who your ex was. As if.

Dae-Hyun is 10 years older than you, with an established business and a divorce left behind. He has no kids, no scandals, no skeletons hidden in his closet. He’s stable, restricted, serious. He’s a grown man who’s been on the same page with you since day one.

You went out as a couple to another brand event two months in your relationship. Pictures were taken, tabloids were eating the shit up, savoring every little detail of your body language around each other. And when his hands were roaming around your waist in the back of the car, heavy kisses trailed alongside your neck, you, as moved on and conscientious you were, imagined Namjoon’s hands on your waist and his lips on your skin.

When Dae-Hyun proposed, it was straight out of your teenage dreams — on top of the highest building in Seoul, a table in the center of the rooftop with champagne and red roses. You wished they were pink though, but you never told Dae-Hyun that light pink ones were your favourite. He proposed a year into relationship, willing to give you the life you’ve always wanted. You knew he was telling the truth.

Park Dae-Hyun was a better man: he always found the time for you, no matter how much work he had; always brought you flowers whenever you felt down, returned from tour or had a successful comeback. When you fist started dating, you were in the middle of searching for a new apartment, and he helped, using all of his ties and connections in the estate business to land the best option for you. You didn’t ask for it, but he did it anyways. With Dae-Hyun, you’ve learnt how to ask for help, gradually and slowly.

So you agreed to be his wife, to be the better woman with the better man. You put Kim Namjoon to the darkest and dustiest shelf in the story of your life, letting the memory of him rot in the back of your head. You were happier now; you didn’t feel lonely whenever Dae-Hyun would leave. Now, you felt like a whole person, even when your partner wasn’t around. This is the epitome of a healthy relationship, isn’t it?

Yeah, it is. And all of it would’ve been just perfect if only Kim Namjoon didn’t come back from his military service two months ago.

Everyone was talking about it, every news source filled in with his photos and short comments about the comeback he’s already planning. And of course, of-fucking-course, he had to attend the same party as you. As if he’d known you’d be there.

Simple greetings and bows exchanged by the two of you, and you walked away, planning to leave as soon as possible. As you managed to escape seeing him again, Namjoon didn’t miss the chance to show up at your door in the middle of the night.

“Get out”

“I’m only here to talk”.

“There’s nothing to talk about. I’ve said everything to you already”.

“But I haven’t!” He retorted. “You didn’t even let me speak!”

“I know everything”, you took several steps towards him, “everything you’re going to say. It’s always these false promises and empty words that you speak of”.

You stood in front of him, eyes piercing through his. Namjoon let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“What happened to us, baby?”

You winced at the pet name, goosebumps appearing all over your body the moment he mumbled it. You have forgotten how much the sound of his voice only made blood rush to the sensitive bundle of nerves down your body.

“You”. The answer was sharp. “You happened. You ruined me. And us”. He looked at you, gaze fixated on your trembling lips. “‘Cause you forgot when you promised… that we’d always be together. ‘To grow up, and grow old together’, do you remember?” You let out a breathy chuckle, tears already collecting on your eyelashes. “Because I do. I remember, uh… I remember when I thought you meant it. ‘Cause I did”.

The last sentence came out as a whisper as you almost collapsed there; Namjoon was quick to catch you and hold you in his arms, while you let out muffled cries. He wrapped his arms around you even tighter when you body started shaking because of all of the sobbing. You heard his breath hitch, chest heavy as he let you cry out in his arms for as long as you could.

And when you calmed down, you raised your head to find him looking at you, cheeks wet from tears. You gently wiped them away, subconsciously smiling — just because you felt cozy in his arms again. And as he cupped your cheek and returned a smile, you couldn’t hold back any longer.

I’m a swift moment your back was pressed against the wall, legs wrapped around his waist. The kiss was sloppy, saliva dripping from both of your mouths as your tongues battled for dominance. You were both grinding on each other, moaning every time his growing bulge would touch your closeted clit.

As your clothes were left somewhere in the living room, you were on the bed, fingers tangled in his hair. Namjoon was between your legs again, biting your thighs gently.

“Joon-“

“Don’t say a word”, he growled, ripping your panties off your body, “you didn’t let me finish this last time. Take it as a good girl now”.

You’d forgotten his dominant persona; when he was this demanding during sex, you loved turning into the obedient mess he was making out of you.

Slow circles drawn by his tongue on your clit, torturous pleasure making you arch your back. His hands were massaging your hips, as he lapped at your folds, collecting your arousal on his tongue. Parting your lips, he tongue-fucked you, moving rapidly from licking your folds to sucking on your clit. One of your hands tugged on his hair, burying yourself in the soft curls, while the other was pressed to your mouth in order not to let a single sound escape. All of your neighbors knew who your fiancé was; and tonight, he wasn’t in town.

Heat pooling in the lower back, you felt your cheeks burning. The familiar ache between your thighs signaled at you chasing a climax, and the sloppy sounds Namjoon was making brought you even closer to the edge. As you slightly raised your head to look at him, you found him watching you the entire time while making broad strokes with his tongue, eating you out as if you’d been his last dessert.

“You wanna come, baby?”, he asked, slipping two fingers inside, slowly spreading your pussy open, ready for him. “Where d’you wanna come?”

You panted. “On y-your..”

Namjoon moved from in between your legs and you gasped at a loss of contact; he positioned himself at your entrance, his even more bulky body hovering over you now.

“On my mouth?” He asked again, a playful smile on his lips. You noticed saliva dripping down his chin and leaned forward to lick it, savoring your own taste on the tongue. Namjoon moaned and grabbed the back of your head to pull you in another sloppy kiss.

“On your dick”, an open-mouthed kiss left on his jaw, “I wanna come on your dick”.

A smug smile on his face. “Your wish is my command, baby”.

He pushed in inch by inch, making your breath hitch in your throat. In a mere moment you were stuffed with him again, and it felt-

“So, so good”, you whined, hand grabbing the back of his neck, “Joon, uh, shit!”

“I haven’t even moved yet”, he whispered against your lips, “and you’re already begging? Pretty girl”, he tucked strained hair behind your ear, “all mine”.

And his hips snapped. In a merciless rhythm, he thrusted in an out of your entrance, hitting that sweet spot with every frenzied pound of his. He sucked on your lips, teeth grazing, as his thumb was pressed onto your clit, circling around.

“Aw”, he cooed, hand grabbing your breast, “your legs are trembling. Does it feel that good?”

“Yeah”, you breathed out, pressing your tits to his chest, grabbing his back to pull him even closer if it were possible. You were kissing each other, lips nibbling, hot breaths on skin.

“O-oh shit”, he huffed, the sound of smacking flesh being music to his ears. He licked the skin on your collarbones, as your nails dug into his shoulders, leaving crescent marks all over them. “You’re all mine, baby”, his breathy moans filled in the room, “mine, and mine only”.

You let out a chuckle. “Ah-I.. I’m not.. y-yours…”.

He growled into your ear, hands grabbing your hips roughly to lift them up a little, fingers leaving marks.

He slammed into you frantically. “You” Another slam. “Are”. Slam. “Mine”. Slam.

You bit on his shoulder to hold back your moans. “D’you understand this, baby?” He kept on drawing circles on your swollen clit. “You’re my girl”.

Having heard his last words, you felt your walls fluttering around his cock, and your eyes rolled back as you only saw the dark while Namjoon fucked you through your high. Sweet nothings whispered into your ear, with the one last powerful thrust he emptied himself inside of you, painting you as his once again. You both were shivering but holding each other tightly as Namjoon left a languid kiss on your lips.

He fucked you in the shower several minutes later; made you come on his fingers when you were trying to get dressed; you sucked him off as he sat on the couch. The couch you fiancé bought you.

After that you swore to never see Namjoon again. You tried to forget that you cheated on your future husband with your ex-boyfriend, but not even a week later you found yourself on your knees in the studio.

“Fu-uck, baby”, Namjoon croaked, as you swirled your tongue over the tip of his cock, “you’re being such a good girl to me. Sucking me off so, so perfectly”. He brushed the hair out of your face, maintaining an eye contact. “Only you, my girl, shit, only you”.

After that? You broke it off again. You were torn between the perfect, healthy relationship you’ve had with Dae-Hyun and that unhealthy, hot mess you and Namjoon shared. You wouldn’t continue this affair, you’d break up with him again and move on to your wedding preparations.

But you just had to come back and taste him one more time. You had to make excuses, to cover it up with rehearsals and late night studio sessions, with dance practices leaving you sweaty and out-of-breath. Joon would fuck you in the practice room, making you watch yourself in the mirror, and then you’d get seated in Dae-Hyun’s car, while he drove you home.

You were the most horrible person on the entire planet. Although, you swore to yourself it’ll all end when you get married; after the official ceremony, you’ll be committed to Dae-Hyun only. The time passed, you’d get dicked down by your ex at any possible moment and then you’d come back to your fiancé to have him gently make love to you. Such stupid double-life moment will always result in disaster.

And so it does now. You’re standing next to the sink, a pregnancy test in your hands. His arms suddenly wrap around your waist, head on your shoulder.

“Is it mine?” Namjoon whispers, kissing your neck slowly, knowing exactly whose baby you were pregnant with.

“Yeah”, you breathe out. Dae-Hyun would always use protection, as the two of you planned to have kids after the marriage. Now, you guessed, the whole plan went south.

“Good”, Joon responds, his grip on you tightening. “Means we’ll get married now”.

What a shit show. All of the thoughts were mixed into a mess in your head, not knowing whether to get an abortion, break up with Joon and go back to Dae-Hyun like nothing happened, or to start a messy little family with your ex-boyfriend. What have I done?

As you have stated many times, Dae-Hyun was a better man. Namjoon, on the other hand, was toxic and possessive, needy to keep you around for him and him only. And, as much as you wanted to become a better woman alongside Dae-Hyun, you were destined to be a beautiful disaster beside Kim Namjoon.

#kim namjoon #kim namjoon x reader #kim namjoon x you #kim namjoon x y/n #kim namjoon imagine #kim namjoon smut #bts imagines #bts rm x reader #bts rm imagine #bts rm smut #bts rm

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cherrygukkie · 7 months

Text

Late Night Encounters Pt. 2 | jjk

Word Count: 6k

A/N: Here's part 2! I hope you enjoy it. Don't forget to leave feedback <33

Warnings: (Nothing serious for now....)

Tell me if there are any errors! I hurried and skimmed through this!

••••••••

It’s the afternoon and you’ve successfully made it through the school day. With you being tired, it went faster than you anticipated and it wasn’t too bad…

… except that you never got your beats back from Jungkook. It was just a repeat of this morning and you had to suffer and watch him use them in 5th period, chemistry.

he’s so annoying

Besides all that, you were more than prepared for later today. This wasn’t your first rodeo. This is your third year and you are more than familiar, but as time passes the stakes get higher and higher.

Your life could completely change in a matter of hours. If you were to get recruited on a team, depending on what and where, if you accepted their offer you would end up finishing college early and possibly move out of the state.

And that means you'll be leaving everything behind.

It’s all you could think about walking from school and you didn’t want to drown in your thoughts anymore because you needed rest, so you wouldn’t overthink.

A nap wouldn’t hurt, would it?

You found yourself melting into your soft comforter, staring at the pretty colorful lights on the wall. It was war hanging up those lights, but it was worth it. The gentle glow reminded you of the warmth and comfort you felt back at home in your old room.

Embracing the cozy atmosphere, you shift around to get comfortable. You dim the lights with your remote, preparing for some slumber until a specific thought pops up in your head.

Who you were bringing with you as your date….

It just hit you that your words slipped out and you told Jungkook that you had a date to bring, but in reality, you didn’t… you were going to invite Yoongi or Taehyung, as friends.”

And now you’re in a pickle.

But showing up alone wouldn’t be too bad, except for the fact that Jungkook would know that you lied.

If you were to bring one of them, is he gonna pay you any attention?

No, because he’ll be too invested in his date to even give a fuck about yours. As long as he sees you with someone and that’s all that matters.

It shouldn’t be any more than that.

Suddenly, your phone comes to life once and the notification sends waves of vibrations through the sheets making it impossible to ignore.

You check your phone to see an incoming FaceTime call from Yoongi—your beloved bestie.

You answer. “Hey, Yoongi.”

Putting your face in the camera, you reveal your messy hair that’s covering your pillow. Yoongi gets a closer look at you and asks, “Were you asleep?”

“No,” you huff, releasing a yawn. “I tried to, but I just thought about how I fucked up today.”

He lifts his brow, curiously. “What happened?”

some bullshit

“Well… I um-” your eyes look up to the ceiling, soaking up a moment of silence and Yoongi stares at you expectedly, waiting for a response.

He slightly raises his voice. “Hello? Are you fucking stuck or something? Tell me what’s going on.”

Who is he talking to? lol

“No, I am not stuck,” you said firmly. “I accidentally made a mistake and told Jungkook that I had a date for my sporting event…”

“Some bullshit… like I assumed.” He sighs as you bite your tongue, speechless. “And why would you say that?”

“Because…” you start, “it was this thing… and he assumed I didn’t have a date, so I lied to not look pathetic.”

You saying that only makes you look more pathetic.

“Let me get this straight,” Yoongi pauses to give you a look. The “you dumb bitch look”. “You told Jungkook… someone you hate… that you had a date just because he assumed that you didn’t? And you want to prove him wrong?”

That sounds about right…

“Yeah?” You utter with shame, teeth sinking into your lip. “Yeah, I did...” Yoongi opens his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it. “When you think about it… it’s not that bad because you’re coming with me.” you thoughtfully suggest, hoping he would accept the invitation. “And that way I won’t look stupid!”

“Can’t,” he spit carelessly, expression dulling. “You know I’m at work, Y/N. And why would I even do this favor for you? You ignored my texts and calls the entire day.”

True that. True that.

You added, “And Taehyung as well. Don’t forget that you guys fucking ditched me this morning and still didn’t tell me where you went, so that was well deserved.”

You didn’t hesitate to mention him and Taehyung's suspicious behavior, yet he still doesn’t say anything about it.

“I understand…” Yoongi reasons with you, secretly rolling his eyes. “And I apologize.” His tone sounded forced like his apology.

You shake your head. “I have a request that's better than an apology.” Exchanging looks with Yoongi, a small grin appears on your lips. “How about you come with me this evening and then I’ll grant you my forgiveness?”

Yoongi blinks unimpressed with your words and it makes you beg. “Please Yoongi…” you pout a little. “Besides the shit with Jungkook, I was going to ask you regardless. I do want you by my side for support.”

And when you put it like that, he has no choice but to give in. After all, you are his best friend.

His face softens. “Alright, fine I’ll go. I’ll just tell my boss that it’s a family emergency. Just tell me all the details.”

You explain everything to Yoongi…

“Formal wear… got it,” he notes with a nod. “But what are you going to wear?”

“I honestly don’t know… which is why I’m going to have you go get me something quick and pretty. I’ll text you my size in everything,” you say with confidence, putting your trust in him. “You know what to wear in these situations… me? Not so much.”

Are you sure you wanted to leave your outfit in his hands? Yoongi's hands?

His face lights up when a mischievous glint dances in his brown eyes, “Alright,” he agrees, having something up his sleeve. “I’ll be there by 6:30.”

“Okay and once again thank you, Yoongs.” You show him appreciation with a grateful smile. “ I’ll see you later!”

You both say bye before hanging up.

Seconds later, you throw your head into the fluffy pillow. What else is there to do? You thought.

Oh, right, that nap.

🏐🥊

You’re woken up from your slumber due to the loud knocks on your door. Once you get up, you walk out of your room with messy hair and blurred vision. When your eyesight clears, you see Yoongi with bags in his hands.

“Yoongi...?” you mumble, processing being disturbed from your sleep.

It took a few rubs against the eyes until you noticed him all suited up. Your mind was blown and you couldn’t believe your eyes.

You were too busy admiring your best friend's jaw-dropping appearance, you couldn’t even form a proper sentence.

“Yoongi you…” you stutter, “Yoongi you look smoking hot.” Your compliment made him twirl in slow motion.

“I know.” he looks around, arrogantly smiling his ass off. You playfully roll your eyes, letting him have his moment.

“Wait, how did you even get in here?” You ask, confused.

“Oh uh,” he points towards the hall, giving you a certain look. “Your roommate let me in because you weren’t answering the phone and I almost got caught.”

oh… her

“And she actually seems nice,” he says, slightly surprised. “She’s like the total opposite of what you say about her.”

“That's because she doesn't like me and I don't care. I don't like the bitch either.” Your harsh words made Yoongi’s mouth snap shut, and he regretted what he just shared.

What did he expect? He knew that you didn’t like her and that you weren’t afraid to express it.

“Anyways!” you dismiss the idea of her with a smile. “What did you get me, friend?”

After that does he want to show you what he purchased? Is it possible for you’ll hate him as much as your roommate?

When you walk towards Yoongi, you try to take a peek inside the red bags and he immediately pulls the bags away from you. “Don’t look in the bag just go change,” He demands, slowly handing you the bags. You nod your head, awkwardly listening to his instructions.

Rushing to the bathroom, you make sure to grab everything from your room on the way there and Yoongi flops on the couch, making himself comfortable while he waits for you patiently.

When you get in the bathroom your mind sets on those bags. With that being said, you ram through the bags like a kid on a Christmas morning.

Little did you know that the excitement in your veins would stop…

Yoongi was casually checking the time on his phone when he heard a scream. “YOONGI!” you violently scream, pissed off with what was in your hands.

He freezes, slowly turning his head to the bathroom and the door flies open. You stand there in the doorway empty-handed with a blank expression.

You say out loud, “I’m not wearing that shit. I won’t, I refuse.” His eyes rolled to the back of his head with an idea of how this would go.

🏐🥊

“I hate you,” you sassed through a childish pout.

Yoongi ignored your attitude as he pulled into the parking lot. You were annoyed with him and he was annoyed with your nagging majority of the car ride. He was ready to lose his shit if another peep came from you, but your nagging came from him buying you a dress instead of getting something you wanted.

A short, black, silky, revealing dress…

Getting out of the car, it was easy to notice Yoongi’s irritated expression and if we’re being honest it’s his fault, completely all his fault.

If he would’ve gone with something you wanted, you would’ve never opened your mouth and he wouldn’t have to hear your bullshit.

Why didn't you like dresses?

It’s not so much of you feeling insecure in them. It’s more of you refusing to step out of your comfort zone sticking to the comfort of jeans, sneakers, hoodies, shirts…

The comfort of being covered up, not exposed.

Honestly, the dress Yoongi bought was stunning without a doubt, but the fabric felt foreign against your skin and you weren’t used to your cleavage being exposed or wearing shoes that made you inches taller than you already were.

At least the dress complimented your figure. Thanks to the built-in corset.

You curse under your breath, tugging down the hem of the dress as it rode up your thighs. Yoongi hears the frustration in your voice and he glances over at you.

“You look good, okay?” He tiredly assures you again for the hundredth time.

You might look it, but you sure as hell don’t feel it. It’s funny how a piece of clothing makes you question yourself, your whole appearance.

“How many times do I have to tell you?”

•nobody asked you to tell me.

“I didn’t even say anything this time!” You annoyingly mutter. “You said something first….” Your eyes shift downwards as you carefully watch your step.

He shook his head, keeping his eyes forward. “Because you keep complaining about the dress when you look perfectly fine. I get that it’s not what you wanted, but you need to step out of your comfort zone.”

He does have a point.

You barely get a word out when Yoongi continues, “Y/N you’ve been wearing tried-ass dress suits for the last 2 years. It’s time for a change, an upgrade.”

He side-eyes you, empathizing with his point. “But seriously, I wouldn’t let you walk out of the house looking like a mess. You look good Y/N, so embrace it and stop pouting like a child.”

Your frown turns into a smile, embracing the warmth of Yoongi’s words. Like usual, he’s always right. It’s good to step out of your comfort zone.

“I guess you’re right.”

“I’m always right.” He cracks a smile.

“Stepping out of my comfort zone could help me explore different sides of myself,” you pause, in shock that these words were even coming from you. “And could strengthen my confidence.”

With that being said, Yoongi gives you a nod of approval. “Atta girl.” He pats you gently on the back and you feel a surge of pride.

As you approach the security at the front entrance, they check for indentation successfully and let you in shortly. Yoongi and you entered the venue, arms linked and complimenting each other's outfits. The grand entrance greeted us with sparkling chandeliers and the venue was stunning.

• I swear it gets bigger, better, and prettier over the years

Both of you were blown away by the luxurious theme. It had this fancy vibe, with chandeliers sparkling overhead and the sound of laughter and excitement filling the air. The architecture was so put together, with intricate designs on the walls and shiny marble floors.

Everywhere you looked, people were dressed in their finest attire, exuding an aura of sophistication and glamor. The contagious atmosphere was filled with grace and elegance. It felt good to be able to experience such a breathtaking environment once in a while.

You were feeling nostalgia from the sound of laughter and excitement in the air, mingling with the melodic tunes playing from the live band in the corner.

It wasn’t new, but it was refreshing. It felt refreshing like how it did last year and the year before that...

Our linked arms served as a reminder of the bond we shared, as best friends, ready to immerse ourselves in the event.

You walk through crowds of people with Yoongi by your side, searching for familiar faces. And then, there they were - your team, standing together, chatting and laughing.

“Come on, Yoongs.” You yank his arm, feeling your pace quicken. They noticed you quickly when you called them out, getting their attention. As you rushed forward, you greeted each of them with warm hugs and air kisses.

The girls couldn't help but express their awe at your appearance. They’ve never seen you like this before. All girly looking, with makeup, in a dress and heels.

You surprised them all by donning a beautiful dress that accentuates your natural beauty.

Mindy, your sweet captain air kisses your cheek. "Y/N, you look stunning babes!" She shouted, eyes sparkling with admiration. The others nodded in agreement, their smiles widening. “That dress looks beautiful on you.”

Their compliments made your cheeks heat up and you start getting shy. “Thank you,” you reply, hiding your smile bashfully. “I appreciate all the compliments.”

You were too busy basking in the compliments, you realized that your best friend was standing right next to you, quiet as a mouse.

“Oh shit.” You laugh, pulling Yoongi closer. “I nearly forgot to introduce you all. Girls, this is my best friend, Yoongi. Yoongi, these are my teammates.”

“Hi, I’m Mindy. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

She offered her hand, welcoming Yoongi with a dazzling smile. “It’s nice to meet you too.” He smiles, returning the kind gesture.

Everyone else exchanged their friendly greetings individually.

“Where’s coach?” You asked the girls, looking around the venue for her face. “Wasn’t she supposed to be here before us?” Your question came from the scheduling. It said all coaches must be here before everyone.

Mindy responds, “Coach is running late, but I’m not sure why. She will be here before they start the speeches.”

•speeches!?!??

“In the meantime, let’s go sit. I got us a table in our own section.” Mindy signals to follow her and everyone follows suit, including you and Yoongi.

🏐🥊

After everyone sat down, we immediately started chatting about the event and other topics. It was great talking about something other than volleyball for once. Sometime later, Mindy suggested that she should order some drinks for the table.

Everyone agreed and she was about to head to the bar until she insisted you keep her company while she did so. You were a little confused, but you got up anyway and went with her. On the way there, it was quiet…

Real quiet.

Mindy seemed okay, but the silence was uncomfortable for you and it only made you wonder why she asked you to go with her.

You out of all people?

The both of you were walking towards the bar, allowing another moment of silence to pass and you didn’t notice, but Mindy looked at you. “Are you okay?”

You snap out of your thoughts and you look at her. “Yeah, I'm good. I’m just thinking about tonight and the possible outcomes.”

“Spill.” Mindy nudged your arm with hers, encouraging you to share your thoughts. “What’s the current mood?”

“I'm just okay… I guess,” you answer, truthfully with a nod. “If I'm being honest with you Mindy, I won’t be optimistic about this because I’m not expecting anything from it.”

You weren’t trying to sound like a Debbie Downer or dampen the vibe of the event, but it’s the truth. Getting recruited wasn’t your priority right now even though it probably should be.

You go on, “But you already know that I wasn’t hoping to get scouted, so what about you, Mindy? how are we feeling at the moment?"

She turns her attention towards you, hearing the concern in your voice. “Is this your year?” You question her, expecting an immediate yes. However, you got the opposite.

The shift in the air was noticeable after she went silent. She became more serious and her gaze dropped to her feet as you continued to walk. You follow suit, assuming that she doesn’t want to discuss it right now.

You finally made it to the bar and the waiter assisted you with the order of drinks for everyone. Mindy, after picking out drinks, turns to look at you.

“I apologize if you felt that I ignored you,” she softly apologizes, locking eyes with you to show sincerity. “It’s just that I’m all over the place and I don’t know where my head is at.”

“Thats understandable, I get it.” You smile reassuringly. “It’s a lot to think about, especially when it’s your last year here and if you get recruited that means you’ll be leaving…”

“Leaving in the middle of the season,” she said, snatching the words from your mouth. “Yeah, I know. That also means that I won’t be a part of the team and I won’t be captain anymore.” You hear the bummer in her tone as she speaks.

“You know…” Mindy sighs, looking down at her feet. “When I was talking about it with my parents earlier, I was so prepared and confident about getting recruited and leaving if so happens. But now that I’m here, I’m not so sure.”

Even though you didn’t have a strong friendship with the team or Mindy, seeing her like this was out of the ordinary for you. This wasn’t a side of your captain that you were used to.

She wore a smile on her face and there was nothing in the world that could rain on her parade. She always had a positive attitude no matter the circumstances.

You wondered why she was like this now.

Mindy brings her head up to look at you. You expected her Hazel eyes to be glowing like they usually do anytime you see her, but they were dimmed now.

She rests her arms on the counter top. "Volleyball is my life, Y/N. I don’t know what my life would be without it and I don’t want to experience that feeling ever.”

You give her your undivided attention as she proceeds to rant, “And if I don’t get recruited, for the most part, I think I’ll be okay and maybe a little dissapointed. Will I think that my hard work over the years was a waste? Yeah, but I won’t beat myself up about it.”

“And you shouldn’t beat yourself up, Mindy,” you chimed in, in agreement. “You have long years of experience with volleyball for club, high school, and college and you have the skills to back it up.”

The conversation was interrupted by the waiter, who placed a platter full of sparkling colorful drinks in front of the two of you. Her attention was focused on the drinks as she carefully grabbed the platter.

“What I’m saying is that you can do this. You are an outstanding setter and outside hitter, who has the best leadership skills. Who wouldn’t want you on their team?” Your genuine positivity makes her beam, “Plus you’re still young. You have time to make it if tonight doesn’t go as planned. Just because it’s your last year doesn’t mean it’s your last chance.”

She nods in agreement, “You’re right.” The corners of her mouth curl up in a gentle smile, as you make your way towards everyone seated in the section. “I should be thinking more like that.”

It's clear that she values your viewpoint and appreciates your insight.

“But seriously thank you, Y/N. Thank you for having this talk with me.” her smile grows wider. “I needed it.”

“No need to thank me,” you reply warmly. “I’m always here if you need someone to talk to, I’ve always been here.”

“I know… and I regret not talking to you sooner. I didn’t realize how nice you were,” Mindy admits, her voice filled with sincerity.

You look at Mindy, shocked with widening eyes. “Oh, don’t give me that look girl,” she says with a hint of amusement. “You and I both know that you’re reserved and you tend to keep to yourself.”

You didn’t have a strong relationship with the girls. It’s insane because you’ve been on the same team for years.

•guilty as charged.

“Maybe… I am,” you give in with a defeated chuckle. “But I promise you it’s nothing personal. I’m just naturally like that.”

“Good to know. Now I feel that I get you more.” Her words flow with newfound understanding. “Stepping out of that shell and communicating more with the girls would us even stronger as a team.”

Mindy’s works sank as you thought about what she said.

“I’ll work on it-”

“Friends?” She asks you.

It caught you by surprise, but you exchange friendly smiles with her, and with a nod, you responded. “Friends,” you smile, taking a drink off the platter.

Without realizing it, you and Mindy found yourselves standing in front of the girls, drinks in hand. You joined them and without missing a beat, everyone eagerly grabbed a drink and began to enjoy the moment together.

🏐🥊

After enjoying the laughter, the banter, and the moments that were created with everyone, your social battery started to drain and you were in desperate need of alone time.

You were craving it.

It was tough, but you managed to sneak away from the lively crowd. You can’t remember, but Yoongi wandered off somewhere, so you didn’t have a reason to stick around anymore.

Searching for a quiet place, you found a cute and comfortable lounge that wasn’t occupied, so you decided to settle down there to relax a little.

You vibe to the music, scrolling through social media, getting lost in your thoughts. You came across a lot of Instagram posts of people being here this evening.

Shockingly, there were posts from damn near every school except your rival school, Harvard University.

It looks like they haven’t arrived yet.

Harvard University was another school that was populated with nothing, but rich preppy kids who lived off their parent's money. Money was no object to them…

But I guess all the money spent for each semester is worth it, right? It’s a perfect environment, students are provided with the best education, and they’re guaranteed top-notch resources and opportunities. There’s no question that Harvard was a great school… although the people there make it shitty.

If you didn't look, breathe, or smell a certain way you didn’t belong there and your background plays a huge role too. If you weren’t rich, you’re below everyone else and that’s why only particular people were seen there. Popular people, jocks, frats, cheerleaders, football players, and the list goes on.

•shit like that is ridiculous

Thank god you went to a school that accepted everyone for them.

The point is that Harvard has been your rival school for years and just like your school, Harvard University is in the top 5 states for college sports. And just like your school, Harvard had an excellent sports program. And just like your school, everyone who graduated from that school who was on a sports team became a D-1 athlete.

Both school's sports teams were the best at what they did and every team you and Harvard have stumbled upon was crushed.

The only competition you had was each other.

It was like you were neck to neck with them every single time and you hated it just like you hated to admit that all of their sports teams were elite.

That includes volleyball…

They’ve won all games and all tournaments, except last year. You remembered everything like yesterday...

Did people not expect them to try to pay for their win? Over winning it the fair way? The looks on them and their coach’s face said it all. They weren’t used to people who could keep up with their abilities.

Long story short, they cheated.

The coach had connections with the ref and that resulted in him announcing it as a tie, even though it was clear that we won.

It ended up being a tie because they weren’t willing to admit that they were a beatable team.

And the year before that, you weren’t able to compete in the tournament due to the majority of players being seriously injured in the semifinals. You had no choice but to forfeit.

Having to sit out your first year was such a bummer.

All you had to do was beat Harvard and become the state champions, but instead, you had to witness Harvard hold up the trophy.

The trophy had State Champions engraved on it.

It sucked watching them hold up that trophy. You hated how much you missed out on an opportunity to be crowned the state champions, but it’s fine.

This year you’re coming back even stronger. And this year when the tournament comes around, your team will take what’s rightfully theirs.

That trophy.

You are still seated, relaxing on the sofa until you feel a strange sensation creep up your spine. It was like someone’s presence was looming over you.

With a hint of unease, you take a brief second to look up and when you do you instantly regret it. Your heart skips a beat as your whole body flinches, nearly dropping your phone.

There he was, Jeon Jungkook who was standing in front of you only a foot away just casually staring, hard.

“It’s you…” you sigh while eyeing him down with disgust.

Jungkook stood in front of you with his outfit that commanded attention. He was dressed in a black sleek and stylish suit with white stripes that were tailored to perfection. Your eyes wander over all the intricate details and the fine craftsmanship of the suit.

It was a designer suit for sure, which makes you wonder how a regular college student could afford a luxury piece like that.

You were familiar with the brand and they’re extremely expensive. A suit like that cost's money… too much money.

Looks like he outdone himself and went all out for this evening. Let’s hope his date does the same.

“… the most annoying human on the planet,” you finish, crossing your legs. “Why are you in my face?”

“Don’t be like that, beasty.” Hearing that stupid nickname gave you the icks. “Don’t pretend that I’m not your favorite.”

•lord, throw the whole boy away!

“You aren’t.”

After relentlessly bursting his bubble, you quickly glance at his biceps that were effortlessly bulging through his suit. It looked like his gains were ready to rip through the expensive material.

You ask, “What do you want?”

“I saw that you were having fun by yourself.” he points out, resting against the wall, drink in hand. “and I couldn’t resist the opportunity to talk to you.”

“For what exactly?” You proceed to question him.

“Well, you do look lonely…” he comments, looking you up and down. “And I don’t see your date accompanying you,” he adds on, staring into your soul as he sips his drink.

•this boy is throwing hella shade

Hella shade.

Having nothing to say, you remain silent and you let him continue. “So, tell me…” He leans off the wall. “Did you have a date or did you lie to save yourself from embarrassment?”

“For your information, i have a date Jungkook.” You scan the room, attempting to find Yoongi, but he’s out of range, and that makes you nervous.

“Where is he then?” Jungkook follows your eyes, looking behind his shoulder.

“Somewhere,” you claim while nonchalantly shrugging your shoulders. “He’s around here somewhere.”

“Really?” Jungkook eyebrows shoot up in surprise when you nod your head in response. “Then how about I meet the lucky guy?” He indicates, smirk tugging at his lips.

•….

•say that again for me?

Suddenly, your throat tightens as if you were choking on your own words.

This was a glass-shattering moment for you…

“Yeah,” you say, clearing your throat. “You can meet him if you really want to.”

“I really do.” Jungkook chuckles, poking his cheek with his tongue. “You come with a lot of luggage and I’m just curious to see who's carrying.”

•where’s Yoongi when I fucking need him?!?

You fix your posture, before looking Jungkook in the eye. “I told you that he’s somewhere around here. No clue where though…”

No matter how truthful your answer was, Jungkook wasn’t taking it. “Let's find him, then. Come on I’ll help you,” he insists, offering his arm with a smirk.

You coldly glare between his eyes and arm, letting your expressions do the talking for you. Without another word, you stood up striding past Jungkook leaving him standing like an idiot.

Walking through active huddles of people, you still couldn’t find any signs of Yoongi. Now you’re feeling shit tons of regret, knowing that Jungkook wasn’t going to let this go.

Your mind was so set on finding Yoongi and you didn’t realize that Jungkook was following your footsteps, not letting you out of his sight.

That was up until annoying jungkook grabbed your wrist and his grip prevented you from walking.

When you turn around, he sighs and gives you a look. “Just give it up. I know you’re lying and I get it.” You part your lips to speak, but he keeps going. “I know it’s a struggle finding someone who wants to deal with your ways.” He pulls you closer in mid-setence, “And you lied to me because you were ashamed.”

•lol. He did not just- okay.

“Says that one who can’t keep a stable relationship, even if their life depended on it,” You retorted with sarcasm, snatching your wrist away from Jungkook. “You should be ashamed of that.”

Your words hit a nerve in Jungkook when his jaw clenches before speaking, “And when’s the last time you were even in a relationship?” He retorts back, matching your low blow.

“I can admit that it’s been a while, but I know poor Alex suffered dealing with you. Who wouldn’t?”

The rumors that were going around about their breakup were messy. It got messier when people couldn’t resist adding fuel to the fire, putting words in their mouths, switching up the story, or putting the blame on one person.

People twisting the truth and spreading shit tons of gossip, you didn’t know what to believe.

“You have no business speaking on shit you don’t know about, so don’t speak about my relationship.”

“My relationship doesn't have shit to do with you, yet you brought it up!!” You yelled.

Shots were fired back and forth and the bickering continued between the both of you, ignoring the fact that you were standing in the middle of the floor, surrounded by crowds of people.

You became overwhelmed with the screaming contest between you and Jungkook and your forced confession drowned out the noise of the argument.

“I lied.” You loudly confess, the weight of your words hung in thin air. Silence wasted no time catching up with the both of you and all you hear is the faint melody of the music in the background.

“I came with my best friend and he was my date,” you admit with air quotes. “And now I can’t find him, but I only lied because it seems like you're always trying to one-up me and I’m so fucking sick of it.”

In that moment, you gave Jungkook a deadpan and he returned a mischievous smirk.

A mischievous smirk slowly spread across Jungkook's face, as if he had anticipated your confession all along.

He did.

Now that the weight wasn’t restraining you, it’s time for the real question. The important one.

Your expression hardened and you sneered, “All this mess about me, what about you? Where's your date?” You take a step closer, revealing how serious you are.

Jungkook reaches into his pocket, without breaking the intense eye contact. “She’s running a little late. I’m going to text her to check her status,” he says briefly, revealing his phone.

“Oh,” he exclaimed, surprised by what he was reading. “Looks like we spoke her up.” Jungkook glances at you flashing you with a sly grin. “She just texted and told me that she’s here.”

Jungkook, without another peep, walks towards the entrance. You don’t give him the chance you leave looking puzzled, so curiosity takes over you and you follow him through crowds of people.

He stops walking and you stop beside him, ready to uncover the mystery. Who is this girl?

You look over at Jungkook who was trying to adjust his tie to perfection.

•so extra for what?

The door swings open, revealing a flood of blinding sunlight that makes a path like a red carpet. You watched as a group of girls entered the venue all dressed up with their heels. Their faces looked a bit familiar as they got closer, then there was this one individual that stood out, strutting in the room sprinkling her confidence everywhere.

Gaia Watson.

The captain of Harvard University’s volleyball team and she also happens to be another enemy of yours.

And just when you thought things couldn’t get any work, Jungkook calls her over. Hearing her name made your face contort with a mix of anger and displeasure.

•is it possible that she’s- no it’s not..

You were trying your best to conceal your emotions, but your body language betrays your frustration.

“Wait… is Gaia your date, Jungkook?” You ask hoping it isn't true and if it was… chaos might just happen.

“Yes, she is.” He turns to look at you with a questionable look. “Is that a problem?”

•yeah.

“Why the fuck would I have a problem? That doesn’t have anything to do with me,” you shut down his question, crossing your arms, and bringing your attention back to Gaia. “I was just wondering…” you mumble to yourself.

Your blood started to boil as she approached you and Jungkook.

•!!!!!!!!

Surprise, surprise!

To be continued...

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#bts smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #minors dni #jeon jungkook #jungkook fic #jungkook au #bts #bts imagine #bts x reader #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook x you #bts jungkook

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half-dead-ham · 1 year

Text

Friends of a future

Soooo, instead of making continuations of all of the rest of my fics, I have instead decided to write another plot bunny!

I think this'll be my last bit of writing for now, as I wanna prepare for ship week. I got a few interesting things planned for it, so keep an eye out for some cool fics!

Ao3; [here]

~~~~~

Danny didn’t know where he was.

Not that that was completely abnormal for him. He’d been tossed through enough portals and rips in space-time that at this point he didn’t question it too much. But this was a little different, if the similar consistency of smog and looming neomodern architecture was anything to go by.

Not to mention that this shift was completely out of left field, usually he had some idea of how he got to a different time and/or place. Danny did think his being here in what he could only guess to be a future Gotham had something to do with where he was before, at least. So what happened before?

Well.

Danny had gotten a call. A call from the Justice League. A call to help deal with one of Lex Luthor’s newest inventions to deal with Superman and his posse of super friends with some sort of annihilation ray. That was pretty normal, as Danny had been on the roster for about a year and a half by now.

They had beaten Luthor and his goons with only a little bit of a struggle, as alongside Danny, they had also called Shazam and a few other unorthodox heavy hitters to help deal with whatever Lex had up his sleeve. They had taken out Lex early on, and after they did the men Luthor had hired ran for the hills. Hopefully they still got their pay for this job.

What else… They had just regrouped, and were waiting for the B team to come and safely dismantle the device Luthor had paraded around when it went off… Oh.

It must’ve hit him.

Or he moved someone out of the way of the beam? Everything was a little fuzzy at that point.

What did Luthor say in his villain monologue about what his newest death ray did? Something about transferring particles to a dimension where they couldn’t arrange into anything of substance? Something along those lines. Maybe. Danny wasn’t really listening. But he does remember a stray magic blast hitting the machine, with some worrying sparks coming off it for a bit afterwards, so maybe its function was messed up a little because of that. Also Danny being made of an extradimensional substance that spans the multiverses might have something to do with it…

The pain in Danny's back flared, reminding him where he was currently. Right. Gray sky, smells of smog, tall glass buildings and flying cars, billboards for unrecognizable products. Focus Fenton, focus.

Reaching up, Danny grabbed the ledge of the crater he must’ve made as he fell. He sat up, noticing that he was currently on the roof of a building. Ancients, he hoped he didn’t have to pay for that. He peeled himself out of the Danny-shaped hole and stood, taking a better look astound with his better vantage. It seemed to be almost sunrise, if the mornings here were anything like the mornings in his Gotham, the smog that constantly covered the sky turning a lighter shade of gray to his right. So morning, maybe. New dimensions had weird natural laws sometimes, but for now let's go with morning.

The flying cars were new, nothing like anything Danny’s seen while universe hopping for the League or CW, so another checkmark for this being a reality he hadn’t been to yet.

Letting his feet leave the ground and turning invisible, Danny floated off the roof and towards the street below. Not many people were out walking at what he could only guess to be god awfully early, so the streets were quiet. The multi layered roads threw him off for a little, but he supposed if you had flying cars you didn’t really need roads. He wondered if this was actually the future, or if this was just some place more technologically advanced. (Did that matter? Was there a difference? Why was Danny so fixated on the fact there were flying cars here when he regularly meets with superheroes in a satellite?)

“Good morning Neo-Gotham! Beautiful weather we're having, expect partially cloudy with a seven percent chance of rain!”

Danny’s head snapped to one of the display TV’s on the other side of the street, the announcer reading off the morning weather report. The TV display gave him good information within a few minutes of listening in after moving nearer to it.

He was in Gotham, at least, a future version of it.

It was a Tuesday.

And he was at least thirty years ahead of his own time.

Thirty years… Danny shook his head, no time to run down the rabbit hole of where he and his family might be at this point. For all he knew, he might not even exist in this universe.

He flew straight up to better get his bearings. Even with the different look, Gotham was still familiar to him. Practically a third home away from home with how often he visited the city. A final look across the horizon and Danny started flying. There was one more thing he had learned from that TV.

There was a Bat in this Gotham too.

The trip to the Wayne estate was easy, though its look in this dimension was noticeably more gothic than the one he was used to. Even in the morning partial sun the house's figure cast an imposing shadow in the grounds. Still, the place said Wayine on the gate, so he knew there was someone in there he could plead his case to. Maybe he’d even get to see a grown up Damian. Now wouldn’t that be fun, a Damian Wayne all grown up and CEO of Wayne Enterprise. Danny had to snort at the idea.

He floated himself through the front door, taking a moment to observe the almost familiar surroundings. Everything was… off. It was like someone had someone read a description of the manor's interior, then built a new manor off the description alone. It was large, with cavernous high ceilings in neutral grays, with entrances leading off to a sitting room and study. There were stairs and a hallway leading further into the manor and to the second floor, and Danny knew if he phased down he’d find a bat-shaped secret hiding in the basement.

The whole place was eerily quiet though, and empty, and if Danny looked close enough he would be able to find dust on the frames hung on the walls. Alfred would never let it get dusty in here, and there would always be at least one person up by now. Maybe they’d all moved out? They weren’t really the ones he was here to see anyways.

Now… would a certain Bat be up and about in the cave by now?

Knowing Bruce, probably.

Danny let his feet drift to the floor, then through the carpet. He sank through the ground, until he hit the pocket of caves hidden underneath the estate, illuminated only by the monitor and display case lights of Batman’s souvenirs.

“Damn, even the cave got the uncanny valley treatment…” Danny grumbled to himself.

He must’ve come at a bad time, as just before he regained tangibility a batarang flew through him, rebounding on one of the stalactites behind him.

“Woah!” He exclaimed as he watched the throwing weapon clatter to the concrete floor. Danny whipped his head around to where the batarang had come from, only to see-

“Holy shit, you’re so old!”

A glower was all Danny received for his comment from the man sitting back down in his chair. The man -who Danny really hoped was Bruce, or his comment would be really insensitive- was built, wide in the shoulders and bulky, like he worked out regularly. Despite this he was hunched, shoulders slightly dropped as he held a cane in one hand. His gray hair and wrinkles made sense for his age, but Danny jokingly wondered just how early he had started getting that colour.

“Phantom,” Danny perked up at that. Bruce knew who he was, that was a good sign.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t come back to the mortal realm after you died,” Bruce added as he turned back to face the batcomputer.

That was… Damn.

… At least he knew there was another version of himself in this universe? Positive thoughts, Fenton, think positive thoughts.

“Yeah, uh, ‘bout that, Bruce…” The older man kept his chair at a half turn, keeping one eye on Danny from his periphery as the ghost descended to the floor.

Danny scratched at the back of his neck as he walked forward, stopping just far away enough that he wouldn’t make the bat overly paranoid. He didn’t know where to look as he explained this next bit, so he let his gaze wander over the memorabilia as he spoke.

“So I’m not the Phantom you know?” He started, getting a single raised eyebrow in response. “Like, I’m probably at least somewhat similar since you recognized me, but… Y’know… League stuff came up, and I got hit with something…”

“You’re saying that you are a Phantom from a different universe to this one, that was most likely hit with something that transported you here, to this dimension?” Bruce filled in. Danny smiled at that, letting his gaze rest on Bruce again.

There was one thing you could always count on a bat for; their sharp minds and ability to read inbetween the lines.

The half-ghost snapped his fingers and pointed at the seated bat, “Exactly!”

Bruce just narrowed his stare as he inspected the being before him, taking a more in-depth look with their decreased distance. One long inspection later and the bat finally asks, “Why do you think I can help you?”

Slightly confused, Danny deflated. “Uhhh, ‘cause you’re Batman? Even if you can’t help, there's still the League we can contact. One of the magic users has to have a spell that could send me back, right?”

Bruce swings his chair back to face the batcomputer, hiding his expression away from Danny's view.

“The League disbanded years ago, Phantom. I’m retired.”

“What‽” Danny exclaims. “How are you retired‽ Everyone thought you’d be the caped crusader till you keeled over, and even then you’d fight out of your grave if you had to!”

A huff was heard from behind the back of the chair. “I had a minor heart attack,” Bruce lied. Danny could smell the lie too, which meant that even for Batman it wasn’t good.

Danny sighed. As much as he knew that was a lie, he also knew that right now Bruce was the only one that could possibly help him at that moment. He didn’t know what had happened to the other members of the League, and if what the man in front of him said was true (and that is a very real possibility) he wouldn’t even have a good way to contact them if he tried. Danny could let a blatant lie slide if it meant getting help.

“Okay, so I got no Batman, no League, and no sure way to get home. My only options are to try a random portal in this dimensions’ Zone or wait to see if someone will come to my rescue.” Even as he mumbled them Danny knew neither option sounded good. Going into this dimension's version of the Ghost Zone would run the risk of not only him getting lost but also him finding himself from this universe. Danny didn’t know what this dimension’s version of him was like, but he could think of a few reasons for why he would swear off the mortal realm, none of which he particularly liked. As for getting lost…

But the ‘stay where you are till help arrives’ method might not work in his favor either, if it was just that one blast that hit him that was changed by the magic, and not the whole weapon. Using the thing again would run the risk of someone ending up in a dimension they couldn’t be in, a thought that did very unhappy things for his core. That leaguer would effectively die trying to save Danny, and it would eat him up inside if that ever happened. Even if they did manage to get someone to this dimension using the weapon, that still left them with no way out. The person that came here to get him would be stuck here, same as Danny, unless they come with a fix-it to bring them home too.

Who knows how long that would be in the first place. Days? Weeks?

“Phantom,” an unusually soft tone broke Danny from his thousand yard stare. The ghost refocused to see Bruce giving him an uncharacteristically soft look. He tried to give a smile to the old bat, but he was sure Bruce wasn't fooled by it.

“What’s up, B?” Danny asked with forced levity, to which the softness only grew.

“You don’t have to figure this out on your own, you know. I may not be Batman anymore, but that doesn’t mean I’m above helping someone in trouble.”

“Even for someone you don’t actually know?” Danny hated how wet his voice had suddenly become.

“If you’re anything like the Phantom of my universe,” Bruce gave a small grin. “Then I’d really just be returning the favour.”

There were things behind that smile, stories and memories shared with someone who shared Danny’s face. If it were anyone but Bruce offering aid like this Danny would almost say it was out of pity. But Batman didn’t pity people, not like this.

Danny chuckled wetly, clearing his throat before he spoke next. “Heh, you must be getting soft in your old age, B. I gotta remember to tease my Bruce about it when I get back.”

Bruce rolled his eyes at the joke as he hefted himself out of his chair. “Come on, Phantom,” he called behind him as he shuffled to the stairs. “We need to get your cover story set up.”

Danny just grinned away the damp in his eyes as he followed behind the older man, changing forms as he walked up the stairs.

~~~~~

Terry had just come through the door to Wayne manor when he heard a voice. It was unusual, as regularly he met Mr. Wayne in the cave or outside when he had to chauffeur him to Wayne Powers Enterprise. The voice sounded young, maybe just a bit deeper than his. Terry followed it through the halls, keeping quiet in case it was just some robber trying to make a quick buck of a billionaire's stuff.

“So you really think you can get paperwork for me while I stay here? Wouldn’t it be harder to forge an identity in the future than easier?”

“You’d be surprised, technology has only gotten easier to hack into as advancements continued, and Wayne-Powers is usually at the forefront of that development nowadays.” That was… Mr. Wayne? And he sounded almost… Happy? Terry turned the corner to the kitchen, very confused at the tone his employer was using for the unfamiliar voice.

Two heads turn to him from a small table by the window, two mugs of coffee steaming in front of them. Mr. Wayne was probably the most relaxed Terry had seen him outside of his public persona, just ‘cause he was sitting next to this, this, this guy.

The dude was tall, and skinny. But like, the kind of skinny you get when you run or swim a lot? The kind of skinny that gave a guy lean muscles, even if said dude was trying to hide those muscles under a baggy sweater and loose jeans. Honestly he looked like he came out of one of his mom’s old yearbooks, with the old clothes and haircut, would fit right in with kids from when she was young, it was weird. The guy looked him over, eyebrows raised in mild surprise before turning to Mr. Wayne, eyes still trained on Terry.

“So this is your new assistant? He looks… different to how I would imagine.” Terry bristled at the comment, and this guy just smirked at him in response! The nerve of this guy!

“Terry,” Mr. Wayne redirects his gaze warning laced in his tone. “This is Danny Fenton, he’ll be staying with me for the foreseeable future and starting as my bodyguard.”

Bodyguard? Bodyguard‽ Mr. Wayne doesn’t need a bodyguard! He was Batman! The guy could still throw Terry on his ass on a good day! Why would he hire this skinny dreg to be his bodyguard?

“Is this telling me you’re replacing me, Mr. Wayne? Cause I’m sure I can take this dreg any day of the week, just give me a chance!” Terry begged as the two sat at the table just looked at him. After a few beats Danny burst out laughing; fully clutching his gut, tears in his eyes, gasping laughing.

It was a little insulting.

“Ancients! Oh Ancients, it's just like what I heard about when Tim and Jason met! Holy crap!” Danny managed to squeeze out between gasps as Mr. Wayne pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. This didn’t relieve Terry, but it did make him so much more confused.

“Terry,” Mr. Wayne huffed as Danny’s laughter started to die out. “Danny isn’t replacing you, he has his own hero persona. He’s simply going to be staying with me until he’s able to return from where he came from,” He explains.

Well that was a relief, Terry dropped his shoulders as he relaxed slightly, still staring at the guy sitting with Mr. Wayne. Now Terry just had questions, like what did Mr. Wayne mean by ‘returning Danny to where he came from’? And who was Jason?

Mr. Wayne stood, moving to put his coffee mug in the sink for washing later while Danny took a sip of what was left in his. Silence fell on the kitchen then, Terry stewing in his questions, Mr. Wayne shuffled off to his study, leaving Terry and Danny in the kitchen alone.

“So,” Terry drawls awkwardly as he moves to take up the spot on the table vacated by his employer. “You’re a hero?”

Danny snorts into his mug, “Yeah, I am.”

“Anyone I know?” Terry asks curiously. He’d met a few heroes since he started working for Mr. Wayne, but someone matching Danny's ice blue eyes and messy black hair didn’t fit anyone he knew.

“Not likely,” Danny replied with a huff. “Apparently in this dimension I’m a dead recluse, so even if you had seen me, you wouldn’t’ve recognized me.”

… What?

“The hell you mean ‘I’m a dead recluse’? You’re either one or the other, no way you can be both.” A ‘dead recluse’ made zero sense, maybe he died a recluse? Or he’s so reclusive that everyone thought he was dead?

Dany chuckled at the face Terry was making, laughing at his confusion. “Oh no, I’m definitely both,” he remarked. “Or, well, just one right now, I haven’t gone recluse yet and I hope I don’t for a while.” He added, glancing away with a thoughtful expression. Terry just scrunched his face up.

“No offence, dude, but you don’t look dead?” Could he take offence to that? Terry didn’t know how someone could look so alive while dead (or is he just messing with him by saying he’s dead?) but Mr. Wayne had mentioned in passing a few of his old colleagues that have come back from the dead, so maybe it wasn’t that rare?

“Also that doesn’t really answer my question,” he adds. “You’re a hero, and I’ve met a few heroes, so do I know you? Or of you maybe?”

Danny tilted his head in thought, twisting his lips as he considered. Terry waited on baited breath as the teen across from him thought.

“I don’t know?” He finally landed on. “Not really sure what you’re learning in school here, so I wouldn’t be able to tell you.” Danny took another sip of his coffee with a shrug.

Well that was unhelpful.

Terry was starting to get a weird feeling crawling up his spine, like someone pressing ice onto his back. Was he imagining things, or was Danny breathing slow? And not just like really deeply or holding his breath, no, like really slow. He just watched Danny for a minute, trying to count the seconds between the other teens' chest movements.

Yeah, way too slow.

Trying to forget that he noticed anything, he looked up, only to notice his hair. It was swaying slightly. The window behind them was closed, and there wasn’t a draft in the kitchen. Terry looked away entirely then, thinking he may have stayed up too late after patrol last night if he was starting to see things.

“Okaaayyy,” Terry drawled, deciding that just looking at the guy was gonna make him question his sanity. “Who’s Jason then?” He asks instead to get the conversation going again.

Danny froze, mug halfway to his lips. He turned to eye Terry with an odd expression, as though it should be obvious who Jason is.

“Jason? Y’know, Jason Todd?” Danny tries, only to receive a blank look from the other teen. “Jason Todd? The second Robin Jason Todd? The Red Hood Jason Todd? Crime lord and anti-hero extraordinaire?” Danny tried to keep up the lines, but nothing sparks recognition in Terry. Was there ever a crime lord in old Gotham named Red Hood?

“The second Robin was Tim Drake?” Terry corrects confusedly, receiving a shocked expression from the other end of the table.

“No? Tim was the third?” Now both of them were lost. They stared at each other, confused and concerned. Terry knew there was no third Robin, unless you counted commissioner Gordon as Batgirl, but it didn’t make a lot of sense if you counted her. Danny’s face twisted so much it looked like it hurt (and hurt to look at) until something passed and the look cleared, leaving comprehension, like a light blinked on over his head.

Terry followed as Danny stood up, heading straight for the hallway and leaving his mug on the counter, leaving Terry to clean it up. Putting the cup in the sink beside the other one, Terry hurried to catch up to the other teen, jogging as he saw Danny duck into Mr. Waynes’ study. He made it just in time to catch Danny walking through the grandfather clock.

Danny speed-walked into Bruce’s office, eyes set on the grandfather clock against the wall.

“Gonna go into the cave for a sec’ B, somethin’ I wanna double check.” He didn’t wait for an answer before he phased through the clock and descended the stone stairs into the basement. Jumping the last three stairs, Danny turned to face the costume display.

The five costume displays.

The old Batman suit, the Nightwing suit, the first Batgirl suit, and Tim’s Robin suit. The last case is empty, but that hardly matters.

“Where are the rest?” Danny mumbles to himself forlornly, searching for where the other suits might be stored. There’s nothing. No Orphan suit, No trace of Damian’s weapons, none of Jason’s extra helmets. Just the four suits in five cases.

“What do you mean, ‘where’s the rest?’” The new kid, -the one that looks like Damian but wrong- Terry panted as he half-ran down the stairs.

“I mean, where are the other suits? Where’s Orphan? Signal? Spoiler? Red Robin? Even if they moved out Bruce would still have a duplicate of their suit!” Danny’s voice was rising to something slightly hysterical, but there was just no way Bruce didn’t adopt the others here. It was Bruce's thing! He had an adoption problem, everyone knew that! His kids made fun of him for that!

“Those other heroes? I haven’t met them if they are, and I don’t know why you would think Mr. Wayne would keep their suits on display.”

Danny felt heavy at those words. Heavier than even before he died. His knees gave out under the weight and Danny sank to the floor, thoughts going a hundred miles an hour under a sheet of ice.

Terry didn’t know Red Robin even though he knew Tim? Did Bruce just never meet Jason as a kid? Damian’s mom just never dropped him off at the manor? Was he even born? Was Cass being used as a weapon for the League of Assassins here like she was going to be in his universe? Where was Steph? Were Duke's parents still in the hospital? Batwoman? BlueJay?

Did they just not exist here?

Danny’s ears were ringing too loud with his questions. He didn't notice Terry (Blue eyes, angular jaw and cheekbones like Damian but the eyeswerewrong) kneeling down in front of him, confused and worried, until he was flinching back from a hand on his shoulder. Groaning, Danny leaned back on one arm, grinding the other hand's palm into his eye to ground himself.

Now was not the time, Fenton. You do not freak out about universal differences on the floor of the batcave with some random Bruce adoptee in front of you. Get it together.

Taking a large breath in through his nose, Danny took a moment to clear those panicked thoughts, pushing them in a far off corner of his mind to be addressed later, preferably alone (probably while he was trying to sleep) and shutting a mental lid on them with an exhale through the mouth.

Okay. Okay okay okay okay. He can do this. Just, breathe.

Danny opened his eyes, not remembering when he closed them, to see Terry still crouched in front of him looking like he was trying not to look concerned. He was failing.

“Terry,” Danny murmured, “I’m going to say some names, and I want you to tell me, yes or no, if you know them.”

“But wh-”

“Just, please.” he stressed, “I just really need to know if you know these names.”

Terry’s face contorted, but he gave a nod. Giving himself a moment, Danny collected himself enough for whatever potential outcome he could receive with this. He can do this, it’ll be okay.

“Dick Grayson-” “Yes,”

“Stephanie Brown-” “No,”

“Barbara Gordon-” “Yes,”

“Cassandra Cain-” “No,”

“Duke Thomas-” “No,”

“Selina Kyle-” “Yes,”

“Kathrine Kane-” “No,”

Okay. That's four to three against him. Danny didn't know how to feel about that exactly, but it wasn't great. He had one more name on the tip of his tongue, but with how things were going he didn’t know if he should say it. If Damian did exist in this universe, then he had the potential to put everyone around him in danger just by saying his name, something he wouldn’t stand for. If he didn’t… Terry was loyal to Bruce, and Danny didn’t want to get the old man’s blood pressure up with any of the names attached to the youngest Robin. Damian was the last one to check, but could he deal with almost every one of the bats he was close with not existing here?

“Damian,” he pushed out after a long moment, unable to decide on the ‘Wayne’ or ‘Al Ghul’ surname.

“What, no last name?” Terry asked sarcastically, to which Danny gave an eye roll and a shake of his head.

Terry sighed, standing up to let his strained legs stretch. “Then that's a definite ‘no’. Was that the last one, or are we playing more guess who?”

Danny huffed, putting his own feet under him to stand as well. He began to walk back to the stairs, not really sure what he should be thinking right about now, so he deflected instead. “They still make that old game?”

There was a set of eyes boring into the back of his head, Danny could feel them, but he ignored them as he started trudging up. A grumble from behind him, followed by soft steps and Terry was on his right, looking every inch the irritated teen he probably usually portrayed to others. There was still that undercurrent of concern, but it was mostly covered by the glare he was shooting Danny’s way. Danny didn’t mind, this new kid had yet to master the bat-glare, so he was basically trying to melt a glacier with a hairdryer.

~~~~~

Mr. Wayne was still in the study when the two came up. Terry was trying to glare a hole into the side of Danny’s face, with little results.

“Ah, Danny, Terry, I just got a call from Wayne-Powers, there's going to be an urgent meeting there in about half an hour, so I need you both to get ready.”

They watched as Danny gave an absent nod as he walked out the door and down the hall, silent as a mouse and deep in thought.

Terry turned to Mr. Wayne, who let out a huff at the other teen. Teenagers.

“So,” he drawled, “you gonna tell me what his deal is? ‘Cause that guy is seriously cryptic.”

“Not surprising,” Mr. Wayne replied with a small shake of his head. “Do you know why he needed to go down there all of a sudden?”

“Not really,” Terry turned his head back to the doorway, trying to listen for the other teen moving through the house. He couldn’t, and that unnerved him. “He just looked at the suit displays, had a bit of a meltdown, then asked me if I knew a bunch of names.”

“And did you?” Mr. Wayne asked in the way he did when he started getting into detective mode.

“Some I did, some I didn’t. I already made a file on the computer you can take a look at later.”

A hum made its way from the space behind Terry, then the creak of the old chair sounded as Mr. Wayne heaved his way out of it. He shuffled his way over to Terry, placing a hand on his assistant's shoulder.

“Be careful Terry, he may be friendly, but he isn’t from this dimension. There's no telling what he could be keeping from us. Make sure to take note of everything, no matter how small it may seem.”

Terry nodded, taking a second to process what his mentor had told him as he watched the retired vigilante shuffle out the door. His brain finally caught up with what was said as Mr. Wayne rounded the corner.

“Wait, another dimension? Mr. Wayne wait!-”

#Batman beyond x Danny Phantom #danny phantom #batman beyond #terry mcginnis #danny fenton #dp x dc #dpxdc #dp fic #dp x dc fanfic

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gennyanydots · 6 months

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This is love I just can’t live without Ch. 11

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x f!kazansky!reader (affectionately often called “Baby Ice”)

This is love I just can’t live without masterlist

Top Gun biker!au

Chapter summary: You can't believe you ever left her behind

Chapter trigger warnings: none I don't think?

Ch. 11 “It’s worse when I’m alone”

The next day and a half was spent wrapped up in the safety of Carole Bradshaw. She didn’t want to let you out of her sight in case you left without notice again.

Neither of you spoke about what had happened between you and her son either before or now. It was just simply not brought up in any way shape or form. In fact Bradley didn’t spend much time at his childhood home after he dropped you off, Carole shooed him out of the house while you were crying on her shoulder and told him to make himself scarce. He didn’t put up a fight, knowing not to go against his mother’s request. You didn’t see him again until that evening. In the afternoon while helping her prepare dinner, Carole informed you that Bradley and your father were coming over soon to have a proper family dinner. When you were kids weekly family dinners happened once a week either at your house or Bradley’s, depending on who’s week it was. Oftentimes your uncles were also in attendance when you were younger but that wasn’t the case for your first family dinner in five years.

To say the evening was awkward would have been an understatement. Carole tried to get everyone to talk together while your father just grunted responses. Bradley answering his mother was hit or miss and a couple times when she was waiting for an answer from him you had to kick him to get his attention for her.

Family dinner didn’t last too long after the actual dinner was done. Your father refused to let Carole or you do the dishes since you both cooked so he made Bradley help him while you sat in the living room with Carole. After the dishes were clean your father said he needed to be up early to open the shop so with a kiss to your forehead on his way out the door he informed Bradley he would also be opening the shop so he’d better be there on time. Bradley had never been a morning person so he wanted to get to bed as soon as possible and tried to walk to his bedroom but Carole was having none of that.

“But mom, it's MY room!”

Carole rolled her eyes, “And you have another place to stay so march it, kiddo!"

Bradley huffed, “It’s not like we couldn’t share a bed. Wouldn’t be the first time. She slept in my bed last night..."

“Bradley, I love you now leave,” Carole said with a sigh as she pointed at the door.

Bradley grumbled as he bent down to kiss his mother on the cheek then walked to you and did the same on his way out the door.

The rest of the evening was spent watching terrible reality tv shows with Carole, as those were her favorite, eating so many snacks with her that when Carole finally let you go to bed, your stomach hurt a little bit.

Sleeping in Bradley’s bed for the second night in a row had been a little surreal to you. You don't even know how many times you've slept in this exact spot before. That's without mentioning all the other times you've been in this bed. With Carole being a single mother and working long hours, Bradley and you had a lot more freedom at his house than at yours. Not that you didn't think your mother was oblivious to what was going on at the Bradshaw household when Carole wasn't home. Your mother always seemed to have an answer for every time your father questioned what you were doing over there without Carole being home.

"Tom, they have a math test tomorrow. Leave them alone."

"Thomas, how could you forget that they have a science project due on Friday?"

"If you don't leave the children alone, I swear to God, Thomas. It's like you don't remember being their age."

Bradley's smell surrounded you as you laid in the bed, especially since you grabbed one of his shirts out of the closet to sleep in. Sure you could have ran home and grabbed something but it was easier to just borrow something of Bradley's. It definitely wasn't because wearing his shirt made you feel calmer, safer even. Definitely not because of that. You'd also definitely never admit that once again sleeping in Bradley's bed ended up being the second best night of sleep you've gotten in quite some time.

The following morning Carole dragged both you and Natasha out to brunch then a nail appointment informing the two of you that it was necessary for all of your mental health. The three of you knew what the next day was bringing and nobody wanted to mention it, almost like speaking it out loud would ruin the bubble you had surrounded yourself in because maybe, just maybe, if you didn't talk about your mother's funeral it wouldn't happen at all.

#bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x f!reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x female reader #this is love i just can’t live without #top gun biker!au #I know it's a short chapter but next one will be longer

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girl-next-door-writes · 1 year

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For Better For Worse: From Now On

Characters: Mycroft Holmes x reader

Summary: Seeing his wife in a new light, Mycroft is determined to make his marriage work, no matter what it is going to cost him.

Word Count: 1264 words

Series Masterlist

He woke early the next morning, his mind fizzing with everything he wanted to achieve. His eyes adjusted to the dim light and fell upon your sleeping form, causing him to pause. Your chest rose and fell with each deep breath, and you looked so peaceful, despite the way your lips had parted and the hint of drool in the corner of your mouth. To Mycroft, you were perfect, and he cursed himself for forgetting to remind you of that fact each and every day.

The reality of just how distant the two of you had become hit him hard, like a harsh winter wind, knocking the breath from his lungs. He had made you feel invisible in this marriage. So invisible that you’d had to seek out reassurance elsewhere, find the proof that you existed, that you mattered.

The two of you had been through a lot together, he had fallen so low at one point, and you had stood beside him each and every step of the way. As his world crumbled around him, the one constant was you and your support. How could he had taken that for granted? How could he have believed showing you how much he loved you could wait? Well, no more. He had a lot of making up to do and you were to be his sole focus. Last night had been a wake-up call, reminded him how easily he could lose you, really lose you, and he was determined to prevent such an outcome. Leaning over, he placed a tender kiss to your forehead before carefully extricating himself from the bedcovers and pulling on his robe.

Pottering about the kitchen, Mycroft smiled to himself as he remembered the first time he had ever made you breakfast. It was the first time you had spent the night together and he had been tired but elated the following morning. Uncertain what food you would prefer, he had provided a feast, far too much for any two people to consume. You had laughed lightly and wrapped your arms around him, shaking your head affectionately. The memory set off a blast of joy in his chest as he waited for the kettle to boil.

Now, after so many years together, he knew exactly what to prepare for you. Grabbing a tray, he paused as his eyes fell upon a small vase. Quickly, he shot out of the backdoor, still in his pajamas, and plucked a single bloom from the nearby flowerbed. He felt almost giddy when he placed it in the vase, positioning it on the tray alongside your breakfast and a glass of freshly squeezed juice. So many times he had promised to be better for you, well, today he was going to see that promise through. From this moment on, he would be the husband you deserved.

The tray shook slightly in his hands as he tried to contain his excitement. Mycroft couldn’t wait for you to wake up so he could show you that things would be different, that he would be different. Placing everything down on the bedside table, he practically skipped over to the radio, putting it on a low volume so you would wake to the soft music and a lovingly prepared breakfast.

Climbing onto the bed, he sat beside you, watching you sleep for a moment until his feelings got the better of him. Lightly, tenderly, he ran his fingers over your cheek, smiling down at you as your eyes fluttered open.

“Good morning, darling.”

For a fraction of a second, he saw the love and adoration in your eyes that used to be a constant, then it turned to confusion and suspicion. That look was like a knife to his chest and his smile faltered slightly.

“I made you breakfast, my love.”

“Why?” Your voice was thick with sleep and as you pushed yourself up to sit against the headboard, he could read the flickers of thought crossing your face. Had you missed an anniversary? It wasn’t your birthday. You weren’t pregnant. In your sleepy state, your mouth worked quicker than your brain and you asked, “Are you asking me for a divorce?”

“What? No! No. I-I don’t want that. I’ve never wanted that.” His features were soft as he looked at you, his vulnerability laid bare in a way that he hadn’t allowed you to see in a long time.

“Then why are you doing this?”

The question hung in the air between you, and Mycroft saw your walls drawing up, saw you anticipating the next attack.

“I haven’t been a very good husband, and I know one breakfast in bed will not rectify that, but it is a start, a gesture. I am sorry. I truly am, so very sorry.” His hand found yours, his fingers running over your wedding ring as if trying to remind himself that you were still here, that he hadn’t chased you away quite yet.

Mycroft Holmes rubbed shoulders with the most powerful men and women on the planet daily, he was intelligent and articulate, always five steps ahead, yet when it came to you, he was left speechless and floundering.

“I have taken the day off work. I was rather hoping we could spend it together, that is if you have no other plans. There is a new exhibit in the Natural History Museum, and I know how much you like the tower of London. Perhaps we could find a nice spot for lunch and then take in a matinee?”

“A matinee? Even if it’s a musical?” You raised an eyebrow and his lips quirked up at your teasing.

“I shall not only endure a musical, for you my dear, but I will also do my best to look like I am enjoying each and every moment and then discuss the performance at length with you over dinner.”

“Gosh, you really are trying. Who are you and what have you done with my husband?” Your eyes narrowed but the hint of a smile on your lips made his heart soar in a way it hadn’t for such a long time.

“I would like to think that this is the version of me that you married, not the-“

“Workaholic, absent, grumpy, argumentative, vicious…”

“Yes, yes, that version of me is definitely not my finest.” He had the good grace to look embarrassed about that, so much so that you appeared to take pity on him, and he felt your hand cup his cheek.

“Hello, Mycroft. I have missed you.” Your voice was soft and warm, it sent a cascade of butterflies off in his chest and his eyes met yours.

“I have missed you too. So very much.” He whispered, leaning forward and resting his forehead against yours. There was so much he wanted to say, so many promises he wanted to make, but he knew there would be time for all that. Right now, he just needed to focus on you, on reminding you why you fell in love with him. Sometimes, two people have to fall apart to realise how much they need to fall back together. Mycroft knew this would take work, that both of you would slip on occasion, that the days of arguing were not behind you yet, but this was a very good place to start. He needed to reconnect with you, with the one good thing in his life, the one person who had chosen to love him. From now on, he would take each day as a gift and attempt to find a better work/life balance.

#Mycroft Holmes #Mycroft Holmes x reader #For Better For Worse #gndw fic

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theillusionmachine · 4 months

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The Serpent and the Dove (Blurb)

Ominis Gaunt x MC

And yes, Anne is not cursed in this scenario cause... I didn't want her to :,)

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The first time they met was at breakfast…

Anne had met Salem the night of her… memorable arrival to Hogwarts. So, the next morning, when Salem was ready but still drowsy from the events of before. Anne practically dragged Salem out of the Slytherin common room and into the Great Hall. Sebastian wasn’t surprised at the sight of his sister and “the new fifth year” Anne was always one to make friends rather quickly.

Ominis on the other hand wasn’t the least bit prepared when meeting her…

He had sensed her before as he lingered in the Slytherin common room the night before. And for some strange reason, her presences simply overwhelmed him. Ominis wanted to introduce himself and make her feel welcome, especially hearing how she arrived that night. But with the swirl of anxiety, she felt as well as the unreadable emotions that hit him once he sensed her, his brain had simply tied his tongue.

So, to feel all of that again so early in the morning unintentionally put him on edge.

“Morning you two!” Anne greeted, smiling brightly at the male duo.

“My goodness Anne, the poor girl looks exhausted! You could’ve waited till she woke up a bit before you dragged her out of the common room.” Sebastian teased, smiling up at the two girls.

“Come off it Sebastian.” Anne grumbled, sitting down onto the old wooden bench, Salem followed, quickly reaching for a goblet of pumpkin juice once she situated herself. “She came willing with me, didn’t you?” Anne asked, smiling over at the tired, red-haired girl.

Salem quickly swallowed a gulp of pumpkin juice, nodding before she replied. “Yes, I did.”

Sebastian leaned toward Salem with a fake look of concern. “Look, I can see the hesitation in your eyes... Just blink twice if you need to escape… I can distract-”

“Ugh, that’s enough out of you!” Anne ordered, throwing a roll Sebastian way.

He simply laughed off his sister, making Anne even more annoyed than before. The two began to bicker back and forth and though it probably sounded intense to those who passed by. Salem could tell that the two were merely teasing each other.

Gosh, they remind me of the aunts..." Salem thought to herself as she began to unintentionally drift off into space.

Salem had been so lost in thought that she didn’t even know that her eyes were locked onto him. Truly she didn’t, but all Ominis could feel was the burn of her stare, how much just her being around just seemed to consume him. He didn’t like how it felt as though she was controlling his heartbeat, he didn’t like that her mere presence dashed away any words he desperately wanted to say.

And he hated, absolutely loathed how… out of control she made him feel.

“Hey…” Salem spoke up, finally falling back into reality.

Just the sound of her voice made Ominis tense slightly in his seat. “I uh… think I saw you in the common room last night, but I didn’t get the chance to introduce myself.”

Holy mother of merlin… What should I say to her? Why am I panicking so much!

“Yes, I… heard some chatter about you. It is a real shame we didn’t get the chance to speak.”

Okay, that wasn’t a bad start of the conversation. I… I just needed to calm down and breathe, breathe…

“Well, now we have our chance!” Salem stated brightly. “I’m Salem, Salem Baudelaire.”

Salem, what a gorgeous name- wait… what am I thinking!?

“Ominis.” He replied, his mind drawing to a blank at what else to say.

Anne and Sebastian had stopped their bickering, instead focusing in on Salem and Ominis’s attempt at a conversation.

“D-did you forget your last name there mate?” Sebastian muttered, grinning cheekily at his usual cool and composed grin.

It was honestly a treat for him to see Ominis so… unhinged in a way, and he was going to milk it for all it’s worth.

“M-my what?” Ominis replied cluelessly, his heart practically beating out of his chest, so much so it felt as though he was beginning to have an out of body experience.

Anne giggled, finding some humor in her friend's flustered state as well. “Your last name Ominis… c’mon I know you remember this.” She encouraged.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I must be having an off morning.” Ominis began, nervously laughing afterward. “It’s Gaunt, Ominis Gaunt.”

Salem couldn’t help but chuckle, though she hoped it didn’t make the blonde-haired boy feel even worse than she was sure he felt now. “Nice to meet you Ominis. I can’t wait to get to know you more.”

Ominis could feel his lips curve into a small smile, something about the way Salem had spoken had melted away a tad bit of nerves, but it was finally enough for him to relax slightly.

“The same to you…”

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Some character background information...

Salem Victorie Baudelaire

Born September 19th, 1875, in Boston, New England

Parents Victoria Baudelaire (nee' Bennett) +, Vincent Baudelaire +

Siblings One older sister, Alexia Colette Baudelaire

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A/N: Hello! I hope you all enjoyed the little blurb I made for my MC. I was originally just going to write a few things for myself but, I figured it wouldn't hurt to post it on here to.

And yes, I did change the canon story... Sebastian's story just made me sad lol. And, in my little Hogwarts Legacy universe I am attempting to write. I want to give Ominis a bit more of a spotlight.

Stay tuned for the next few sets of blurbs I plan on writing if you're interested! Until next time, Illusion.

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#ominis gaunt #ominis x mc #ominis gaunt x mc #sebastian sallow #anne sallow #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy x mc

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mamasturn · 2 years

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dirty dancing, pt 6

pairing: austin!elvis x black!fem!oc (cynthia) summary: their last day together at graceland. warning: none. note: i've been in a funk lately and life has been hard, so this took a while to write. but, i hope y'all enjoy! and thank you to those who gave suggestions as to what they want to read next <3 tags: @neeville@dulcewrites @crash-and-cure@cvpidspearl @blackwriter48 @wonderprince @venus2eros @adoreyouusugar @sunshinetoday1 @cosmic-parker @kaitaesupremacy @louderfortheback @librarydame

“You got me flowers?” A smiled graced her lips. Her fingers caressed each pedal of the multitude of diverse flowers in the bouquet. Roses, lillies, sunflowers, and tulips held together by a blue bow. The look on his face was one of pride. The way her eyes lit up and her lips quivered with emotion made his heart swell three times. He nodded and took a seat on the edge of the bed.

“I did,” he said. “Had to keep myself occupied while you slept into the afternoon.” His tone was joking but Cynthia couldn’t help but laugh guiltily at his comment. It wasn’t her fault he kept her up until the early hours of the morning reading Captain Marvel, Jr. comics and chomping on ice cream. Of course, he had to make time for dirty dancing.

Cynthia shoved his shoulder playfully and stuffed her nose further into the flowers. She’d never gotten flowes from anyone aside from her father, which she appreciated greatly. Elvis took the flowers from her hand, insisting he’d find a vase to put them in.

“How d’you wanna spend the last day?” He tried to disguise the sadness in his voice, but by the sympathetic look on her face, he knew he failed miserably. If only things we different. The furthest she’d go was downstairs to get a cup of coffee, then return to the room they shared. If things were different, she’d have two rings on her finger, his last name in addition to hers, and Graceland would be their home, not just a place for her to sneak to on the weekend. One day, he was convinced, things would be different, and his dreams would become a reality.

“Honestly,” Cynthia breathed out, “I wanna lay with you. Just chill. If that’s okay.”

Elvis nodded wordlessly and pressed a gentle kiss against her temple. Lazy day—he could get with it, mornings like this became his avorite; especially since Cynthia’d be leaving by the end of the night and he had no clue when she could return. Slow days brought comfort, and he was learning to enjoy the stillness and tranquility. While being an entertainer was the career of her dreams, the workload seemed to have doubled in recent years and rest was almost nonexistent. Except with her, he always felt rest. Safety and comfort.

“Good by me,” Elvis agreed. Cynthai flashed a smile and sat up slowly, the sheets falling off her body. Elvis, eyes trained on the woman he’d grown to love, couldn’t help but admire the view. No lust filled his heart as he gazed at her, rather simple adoration for her. He watched as her slender fingers ran over her satin scarf that was a contrast to her skin. Her silver necklace shone brightly when the sunlight hit it. Her deep complexion shimmered under the rays of the sun, soaking in all it had to offer. She dropped her hands from her head and ran them down her neck, to her chest (which was covered by Elvis’ button down shirt), and to her waist. His tongue slithered across his bottom lip. What a sight.

“M’gonna take a shower. You coming?” Cynthia stood to her feet and began to unclip her necklace. She tossed it on the nightstand for the time being, then walked around the bed so she could go to the conjoined bathroom. Elvis swung his legs over the side of the bed. His feet were caressed by the carpeted floor as he followed her to the bathroom. When he entered the large four wall room that was seemingly Cynthia favorite place within the home, she was testing the water temperature and prepared to step in.

Elvis opened the glass door and she walked in with him right behind her. Steam quickly surrounded them, and the glass was foggy. Cynthia stood underneath the shower head, audibly moaning at how great the beads of water felt pounding against her sore body. Her eyes were closed, her head was tipped back, and her lips were parted just slightly. She looked exactly how she did just hours ago, writhing underneath him.

“Come,” Cynthia ugged on her lover’s hands when she opened her eyes and saw that he was nowhere near the shower head. She giggled softly when he grimaced as his hair fell flat against his face the minute he stepped underneath the water. She brought her hands up and brushed his hair back away from his face. A smile crept on her lips as her deep chocolate eyes met his blue ones. Her thumb caressed his face gently and she tilted her head to the side slightly.

“What?”

Cynthia shook her head. “Nothing, you’re just pretty.” This caused Elvis to laugh, but he thanked her nevertheless, and reciprocated her compliment, “Thank you, baby.” Twenty minutes later, their shower ended. Cynthia was shocked that they were able to get in and out without Elvis having her body shaking in his arms as he brought her a whirlwind of pleasure. Showers with him were never productive, she’d come to notice during her stay.

The couple padded back to the bedroom and slipped into some fresh clothes before taking purchase in the bed. Elvis settled for his favorite black satin pajama pants and white shirt, and Cynthia snatched one of his shirts and slid it over her body. They mimicked the same position they were in prior—Cynthia’s head on his chest with her leg upon his. A comfortable silence filled the room. There was not much to say, but they spoke a thousand works without having to open their mouths. They both gazed out of the window, watching as the birds and bees mated with one another happily and danced within the wind joyously.

“E.P.,” Cynthia said gently, her eyes still watching nature outside. Her fingers clutched his shirt as her heart pounded. A whirlwind of emotions came over her as she realized she’d have to leave Graceland and the freedom it provided. Then, just like before, they’d be confined by unfair laws, nighttime visits, and sneaky phone calls. She couldn’t take it.

“Yeah, baby?”

“I don’t want to leave,” she mumbled into his chest. Her vision was blurred from the tears that pooled in her ducts. Elvis pulled her in tighter and pursed his lips. Hell, he didn’t want her to leave either. It wouldn’t be the same without her. “I enjoyed my stay.”

“I don’ want you to leave,” Elvis replied. “But this is your home, too, and whenever you want, whenever you can, you walk through these doors, you understand? What’s mine is forever yours. Alright?”

She nodded against his chest, her scarf rising and falling with her movements. She dug her face into his neck and placed a small kiss there. In due time, she’d be back and they’d be together again without boundaries. So sadly, but contently, she muttered, “alright.”

#black authors #austin butler x reader #austin butler x black!reader #austin butler #austin butler x black reader #austin!elvis x reader #austin butler fic #austin!elvis x black!reader #writers and authors

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hellhound5925 · 11 months

Text

Cyare Verd *Beloved Warrior*

Chapter Fifteen

Anakin wanted to surprise the squad and asked me to wait outside. I could hear through the door. "At ease men", "Is everything alright sir?" Asked Rex. "Yes Rex, everything is just fine. We are going to change things up a little bit for the 501st. You're still going to deploy tomorrow, just under different command". "Where will you be going sir?" Rex sounds worried. "The 501st is getting a new batch that will be under Ahoska's and my command. The Torrent squad will be under a new commander but she will still report to me" Anakin explains. The room is quiet....too quiet. "Ahsoka...", "Oh right. Sorry Master". I hear someone approach the door.

The door slides open and Ahsoka gestures for me to enter. "Allow me to introduce Commander Skirata to Torrent squad" Anakin is beaming with pride. Rex is stunned then reality hits and he salutes me along with the rest of the squad. "At easy boys, as far as I'm concerned Captain Rex still calls the shots." I laugh. At the mention of his name Rex half smiles. The squad relaxes.

There's a corus of cheers that erupt "Oya!" "Thank Maker!". "Wait so you'll be coming with us?" Asks Echo. "I will fight along side you men from this day forward" I stand tall, proud, and over all thrilled to be thrown into the fight. “Looks like we need to brief you then…Commander” smiles Rex. “Let’s get to it….Captain” I tease.

“Alright so as you know we are headed to the mid rim. We’ve got some intel that there is a new Separatist base on Aargonar and they want us to destroy it” Anakin starts. “Now that we have two squads what’s the plan?” Asks Ahsoka. Anakin pulls up the holomap at the front of the room and everyone gathers around. “Wait…wasn’t there a peace negotiation going on there?” I asked. Anakin looks annoyed “yes but as I’m sure you can imagine….the Separatist have been less than willing to agree. They’ve asked us to take out the base and rid them of the droid army”. I nod in understanding. Rex across from me is looking over the map humming in thought catching our attention “What is it Rex?” Asks Anakin. “If you can provide a distraction here. We can take the Torrent squad into the base through the back side and blow it up” Rex explains pointing to the map as he talks. I glance over at Hardcase and Jesse who are rattling with excitement in their plastoid. “We’re really gunna blow it up?!” asks Hardcase. “Unless someone has a better idea” Rex looks around the room. Anakin chimes in “Honestly Rex, that was exactly my plan”. That bad feeling in my stomach is coming back again. “What is it?” Ahsoka asks nudging my arm. “I’m not sure, I’ve just got a bad feeling about this is all” I respond. She cocks her head “what are you sensing something through the force?”. I laugh “Call it Mandalorian intuition. I am no jedi”. She laughs “fair enough”.”Alright, we meet on the Resolute at 0600” Anakin wraps this up. “Sir, yes sir” we all say in unison.

We all head our separate ways to prepare for the early morning. The men are inventorying med supplies and any weapons/ammo we need, Rex is drafting a battle plan, and I head to my room to pack up my armor which doesn’t take me that long. I commed the squad to see if any of them have eaten because by now the mess hall has closed and I’m sure they are all starved - I swear the clones are always hungry. I am not surprised to find that they are all still working away and have not yet eaten. The only one I have not spoken with is Rex and I opt to pay him a visit. Luckily for him there are a few office spaces that some of the Commanders share for some quiet time. I knew I would find Rex in the one he shared with Cody so I head out down the hall and knock on the door.

“Come in”. I slowly open the door and peek inside. Rex is sitting at the desk with his top half in his blacks and bottom half still in armor, buy’ce (helmet) on the desk in front of him. “Ni ceta (sorry) I did want to intrude but I figured, since no one else has eaten yet, you haven’t either?” I say walking over to stand in front of his desk. He looks at the clock on the wall “Honestly, I didn’t realize was time it was” he sighs. I pick his buy’ce up and look it over. “I was thinking I’d run out and grab something for everyone” I say turning it over. I notice some of the scratches and dings in the white paint. I turn it back over so I’m starting at the visor. Rex is quietly watching me with his data pad in hand. I run my fingers over the blue jai’galar’la sur’haii’se (shriek-hawk eyes). I’ll never see those and not think of him…Captain Rex…CT-7567… “yeah, food sounds good” he says bringing me from my thoughts. I set his buy’ce back where I picked it up from. I glance up to see Rex smiling at me “Commander huh? That’s gotta feel pretty good”. Suddenly I feel a flash of guilt…I never thought about him. “I hope you don’t feel like I’m stepping on your toes. You are still their Captain and I will back up any orders you give-“ I start to ramble and he cuts me off with a chuckle. “I don’t feel that way, I think it’s great. It actually gives us more freedom” he says through a smile. “I don’t want to be your superior though. It doesn’t feel right. You have the experience in the field with the GAR. As far as I’m concerned the Commander thing is only on paper, this is your squad.” I say feeling the heat rise in my face. “Raven, it’s fine. Really.“ When he says my name I feel like the force is pulling me to him, I look up and we lock eyes. That smile…Maker I could kiss him…Why is he so perfect? Those eyes, they see you for exactly who you are. As tough and battle hardened this man is his eyes are so gentle. I’m not even sure how that’s possible. He continues “Besides, you’re the perfect addition to our squad”. I can almost feel the emotion behind his statement. “Vor’e Rex, that mean’s a lot” I smile back. “I should probably let you get back to it. I’ll let you know when I’m back with food” I turn and start to head for the door, just as I’m about to reach the button... “Ke’pare (wait one- more empathetic version)” I hear him stand up as I stop. My heart is pounding in my ears as I slowly turn around. “Vor entye…… (thank you) for caring about me….. and my men” he says rubbing the back of his neck. “Kih’parjai (no problem)” I say but he looks like he wants to say more. “Was that it?” I cock my head. “Naas (nothing)” he shakes his head, dismissing whatever thought he had. I hesitate for a moment, then head out the door. My mind is racing faster than the pods on Tatooine.

———————

I decide to get the squad some fried Nuna legs - because lets be real who doesn’t love them - and whatever else I could find that should satisfy a bunch of hungry clones. Maker now I really know how Kal’Buir felt when we were growing up. As I start my walk back to the GAR barracks, there is a pastry shop that has similar pastries to the one Echo was drooling over that time we went shopping. I stand at the window and debate whether or not to get some when I finally cave and get enough for the squad - and then some. Feeling satisfied with what I’ve got I finally head back to the barracks. When I enter, Commander Fox is talking to a trooper at the desk. He picks his head up when he seems me “Su cuy’gar…al’verde (hello…Commander). Congratulations are in order”. “Vor’! (thanks)” I nod, trying not to drop anything. “When you guys are back, I’ll buy you a celebratory drink from 79’s” he says. “Sounds good Fox!” I holler as I continue down the hall.

I find an empty briefing room and set everything up before comming the squad. I comm Rex first before the others. After a while the door slides open and there is a mess of GAR issue blacks racing into the room. “Udesii! (calm) There’s plenty for each of you” I say shaking my head. Rex comes in last and stands next to me “looks like you made out well”. “Haili cetare! (Enjoy!- literally means fill your boots)” I gesture towards to table. “Aren’t you going to eat?” He asks. I nod “yeah just give me a second”. I head over to the last container that I intentionally didn’t put out. I head over to Echo “What’s that?” He asks. “Open it” I say with a smirk. He quirks an eye brow. “Hey, why’s he special?” Fives asks. “Don’t worry there’s enough for all of you” I laugh. Echo slowly lifts the lid like rat might jump out and bite him. Once he sees his eye widen “This is why you’re my best friend” he says. “I know” I playfully smack Fives - who looked offended - before handing him a pastry. “You’re my favorite too” he says through a mouth full. I finally grab myself some food before settling down in a chair next to Rex. “Finish that draft” I tease. He smirks “wouldn’t you like to know”, “hey, remember who brought you that” I gesture to his plate. He never answered my question. The squad eats and jokes around. I smile to myself as I was their interactions.

Masterlist

#clone captain rex #star wars clone wars #star wars the clone wars #the clones #may the 4th be with you #may the force be with you #rex star wars #rex x reader #captain rex x you #rex x you

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peoplesmokeit · 1 year

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The Cannabis Industry: My Not So Grand Entrance

Hello to anyone reading my first blog post!

If you’ve decided to read my blog, I will assume you have some sort of interest with cannabis. Whether you like to smoke it, would like to work in the industry, have worked in the industry, or think it is a gateway drug and want it abolished for all eternity, cannabis has occupied your thoughts in one way or another. I don’t blame you, as it’s a hot topic in todays day and age, paired with either overly positive or overly negative stigma. My goal with writing this blog is only to express MY truth with working in the industry, and how it has affected my life and personal growth.

But let’s start at the beginning… how the hell did I even end up in this industry?

Here is a bit of background on who I am:

I grew up in a very religious yet extreme abusive household. Yelling, cursing, hitting and much more occurred in my home on a weekly basis, if not a daily basis. Justification for this behavior came straight from the bible, and as a child fearing an eternity in hell, who was I to debate against the parents I was taught to respect? So of course when I had the opportunity to go off to college, I made sure to chose a school far enough away that I didn’t even have the opportunity to live at home. I went to a private christian university, which proved to be one of the biggest mistakes I have ever made financially. University didn’t work out for me, as I was victim to sexual assault and the school decided to cover it up to protect their reputation. I had to move back home.

I lived there again for about a year, being subjected to verbal abuse almost daily. At this point I decided to take a risk, and do something my friends and I always joked about doing but never imagined any of us would do… I became a stripper. I told my mom I was working a late night shift at the retail store I was at doing inventory, and I brought a change of “clothes” and went straight to the club. My audition went well, although I don’t remember what I did as I blacked out from nerves when I was on stage. And in turn this allowed me to move out of my family home in just 3 months, and get my own car. I worked at a couple of clubs, as well as a bikini bar in a bit of a seedier area than I would have liked. Although I enjoyed making good money and meeting interesting people in the industry, it was time to make a change after about a year of working in the sex industry. It just wasn’t for me, especially long term.

One day I went to go pick up some weed, dressed in the usual “patient” garb. A messy bun, a hoodie, Ugg boots and pajama pants. I was clearly ready to get baked out of my mind. What I wasn’t prepared for was for my life to change forever. I asked if they were hiring, and told me to email my resume and a “selfie, no filter please!” to ensure I wasn’t too ugly to do my job well. I got called for an interview! I went back to the shop (no pajama pants this time) and nailed my interview. I was officially in what I thought was going to be my “big break” of my career.

What I wasn’t prepared for was the insane ride that has been my cannabis industry career. Late nights, early mornings, arrests, robberies, and life threatening situations were not on my “dream career” list. But it was something I was willing to subject myself through “for the cause,” and to see if this up and coming industry would be fruitful for me as well.

These are my stories, and they are true stories. Whether you as the reader choose to believe them, that is up to you! And I wouldn’t blame you for questioning the reality of these stories either. But they’re true, and my need to document them has finally taken control of my ability to hide them from, well, pretty much everyone. So if you chose to read my blogs from here on out, prepare for a bit of a bumpy ride.

And please…feel free to smoke before hand. You might need it.

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rebelwrites · 2 years

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From This Moment || Part One

Jax Teller x Reader

Summary: Neither Y/N or Jax wanted to go back to reality, enjoying the life in the bubble they had created. Life was simple right now but something always got in the way of their happiness.

Warnings: none

From This Moment Masterlist

A/N so the time has finally come that From This Moment can finally be posted. This has been my baby since November and I hope you fall in love with this as much as I did writing it. Thanks to @withmyteeth for being by my side for every idea and writing session 🖤

To unlock the next part this post will need to reach 100 notes

The last week in Vegas had been amazing, never in a million years did you think that a trip to escape the reality of your life would have opened both yours and Jax’s eyes to what had been in front of you both for years. The week had passed by far too quickly, you really weren't happy about going back to Charming. Yes, it was your home. But it was filled with pain, hurt, and drama.

You knew the moment you touched base, questions would be flying at the both of you with no way of dodging them. Especially when it came to Gemma. Your relationship with her was always a touchy subject. She could be the nicest person in the world but at times she could be overbearing to the point you were feeling suffocated, especially when it came down to Jax. It was like nothing or nobody was ever good enough for her boy.

You knew that Jax felt the same as you about his Mom from all the times he vented about her. And if you were being truly honest with yourself, you needed more time to mentally prepare for the grilling and interrogation you would no doubt both be receiving. All you wanted to do was stay in Vegas, wrapped in the warmth of your husband, in the little bubble of bliss you had managed to create.

Resting your head on Jax’s bare torso you let your fingers trace his abs, listening to the sound of his heart beat, a sound that had always and always would soothe your soul. He was still sound asleep and you didn’t have the balls to wake him, not when his alarm hadn’t gone off yet. Years of friendship had made you learn the lesson of waking Jax up before it was time the hard way, on multiple occasions.

It seemed crazy to be taking a nap in the middle of the afternoon on your last day in Sin City, especially when you should have been out causing as much trouble as physically possibly could with the devil that perched on your shoulder. But instead you were wrapped up in Jax’s arms and honestly you didn’t want to be anywhere else but here.

You didn’t put up a fight either when Jax suggested it, it made sense as driving on the lack of sleep was a major disaster waiting to happen. It wasn’t a quick trip either, you would be on the road for eight hours, so you wouldn’t be back in Charming until the early hours of the morning.

The afternoon sunlight was creeping through the crack in the thick curtain, the warmth hitting your exposed skin and it’s soft glow illuminating the room. You were completely mesmerised by the sparkles the light was creating as it bounced off your ring.

Everything still felt like a dream, one you really didn’t want to wake up from. The sting from the fresh tattoo on your finger drew your attention. The black ink was still surrounded with redness but even with the slight swelling it was perfect. Others would probably be thinking the King and Queen finger tattoos were cheesy as hell but you didn’t care and neither did Jax. To him, you were his Queen and he was your King. Nothing would ever change that. Even when you were younger he would call you his Queen, saying one day you’d rule your kingdom together. You never knew what he meant by that, but as you laid there you finally understood what he meant. He was in line to take over the club when the time came that Clay stepped down passing the gavel to his step-son.

The club would be your kingdom.

You knew you should have been trying to get some sleep, especially as Jax kept you up all night and well into the morning. The only time either of you had left the bed was to use the bathroom or to answer the door for room service. Neither of you wanted to spend your last day in any other way than being tangled in the sheets, essentially catching up for the lost years. Your body was sore, covered in marks from where Jax’s mouth had been and bruises were starting to form from his grip on your hips, but it was a feeling you welcomed with open arms.

The last week had been a rollercoaster of emotions but you wouldn’t have changed a single thing about it. You had a sense of excitement bubbling away in your heart, ready to explore your new found relationship and marriage. You didn’t have any ideas on what life would look like, especially once the club found out that you and Jax got married in Sin City. Pushing the thoughts to the back of your mind, this wasn’t the time nor the place to be dwelling on what could happen. You would deal with that when you got back home.

There was one thing you were extremely excited to be reunited with though — your beast. It had been safely tucked away in the hotel’s parking garage ever since you arrived in Vegas. It was extremely weird not having driven the Audi in a week, it was the longest you had ever gone without jumping in the driver’s seat, but it made sense to leave it parked and get cabs everywhere. It was safe, you didn’t have to worry about finding somewhere to park and half of the time you were too hungover or drunk to drive anyway. But your heart was screaming out to get behind the wheel and tear up the tarmac. No doubt there would be the usual fight on who was driving, the decision being settled like the adults you and Jax were. A game of rock, paper, scissors.

Reaching for your phone, mentally cursing yourself as your movements distrubed Jax, his fingers ran through his hair as he moved. Holding your breath, you hoped he didn’t wake. The moment he settled back down, his head resting against your stomach, you let out a sigh of relief. It was official you were now pinned on the bed. Turning your attention back to your phone you quickly swiped the messages away, they were all to do with life back home and you just didn’t want to know right now or care for that matter. All that mattered was the man who now had his arm draped across your waist and his head resting on your stomach, soft snores escaping his lips.

Once you quickly snapped a couple of photos of your sleeping biker, you dropped the phone on the floor, hearing it land with a soft thud on the thick carpet. Turning your attention back to your sleeping devil, gently running your fingers through his blonde locks, relishing in this moment. You were unsure how often these moments of tranquility would happen once you were back in Charming and the club got their claws into Jax again.

Jax was amazed and shocked at how little convincing it took to get you to go shopping, normally he would have to drag you kicking and screaming, spending the whole time with you whining and moaning in his ear like a child about how busy it was or that it was a complete waste of money. But he knew you really didn’t want to go home, leaving the bubble of bliss behind. So when you literally jumped at the idea of hitting the shops, spending the winnings. He was speechless expecting a lot more of a fight.

Luck had been on your side, after your late night stroll you decided to hit the casino one last time, ending up winning the jackpot on a couple of games, meaning the twenty grand you walked in with had doubled to forty.

For him it was killing him keeping the secret he had been holding in since Wednesday. It was so hard not to spill about the surprise detour you would be taking on the way home, prolonging your arrival in Charming by about a week. He kept finding himself going to mention something you could do while at the cabin but then reminding himself to bite his tongue to not to let it slip.

“Right, that's the last of the bags,” he chuckled, pushing the seat back with some extra force due to everything being crammed behind it, smirking as everything only just fit in the back of the car. Sports cars weren’t meant to have this much stuff in them. The trunk of the Audi was tiny, and no longer usable after you installed your custom build for the amp and subwoofer, meaning everything had to go on the back seat. When he said it was tight fit, he meant it. “Are you ready to go, Mrs. Teller?” He hummed, wrapping his arms around your waist pulling you close to him.

“No,” you pouted, hiding your face in the soft hoodie he was wearing, your stomach doing somersaults at him calling your Mrs. Teller. It was something you didn’t think you would ever get over, your heart skipping a beat every time the words came out of his mouth. “Can’t we stay here a bit longer? I’m sure we could find another hotel.”

“Unfortunately not, Darlin’, I have already looked, trust me,” he whispered, kissing the top of your head, letting his lips linger for a moment, trying to compose himself. Only a few more hours to go, Teller, you got this he kept telling himself. He had managed to keep this quiet for the last three and a half days, this was the home stretch. “There is some big convention in town tomorrow which has wiped out all the hotels.” Squeezing you a little tighter, he found himself biting his tongue once again. He wanted the cabin to be a surprise but he just wanted to tell you. “Now, hand over the keys.”

“No, I’m driving.” You huffed, pulling back a fraction, knitting your eyebrows together pouting at him.

“Babe, you are struggling to keep your eyes open, there is no way I am letting you drive. Let alone driving a heavily modified car, especially one that is sitting around, what, 350 brake horsepower?”

“415, actually,” you giggled, correcting him as he raised a brow at you. “You can’t drive the full eight hours back, you will be fucked.” You whispered, resting your hand on his chest. “And I’m not that tired.” You smiled, it was in that moment your body decided it was going to be a traitor, the yawn happened before you could stop it.

“Think you have proved my point, babygirl, you are far too tired to be driving any car,” he said softly placing his hand over yours squeezing softly, “The last thing I need is for your judgment to be off, wrapping the car around a tree, leading you getting hurt,” God, why was he so fucking sweet? You thought to yourself. Even before this trip he was so protective but you had a feeling that protectiveness would increase tenfold. “And I have done eight hours solid on my Dyna before, that was back breaking, this will be a breeze.” He whispered, tucking your hair behind your ear. “If you wanted to drive you should have slept.” He winked, gently pulling the keys from your grip.

“I would have,” you hummed, letting your mind drift back to the night of passion you shared, instantly pulling your bottom lip between your teeth at the thought “But somebody kept me awake the whole night and most of the day.”

“I didn’t hear you moaning,” he laughed, pausing slightly as before changing his words. “Well actually, I did hear you moaning, in fact you were screaming my name all night long.” His hand making contact with your ass with a short sharp slap. “Now get your ass in the car, we need to get on the road.”

It didn’t take long before you dozed off, your head resting on one of Jax’s hoodies you had placed against the window as a makeshift pillow. He knew you would be out like a light as soon as he started driving, the vibrations of the car along with the droning of the exhaust had always been the perfect lullaby for you when you were overtired. No matter how hard you tried to fight it, you never won and sleep always took over.

As he was driving he kept stealing quick glances of his wife sound asleep, you looked so relaxed even though he knew sleeping in a bucket seat would leave you sore and aching. The weight of the world had been lifted off your shoulders and he could see it. The sparkle and fire in your eyes that he had come to love over the years was back and burning brighter than ever. Mentally, he praised himself for this spontaneous trip, a trip that helped him get his best friend back, and in turn gain a wife.

The radio was turned down low, it was nothing but slight background noise providing a soft hum alongside the droning of the exhaust. It was just him and the open road now, he had no plans on waking you up until you were nearing the cabin, letting you get as much sleep as possible knowing how grumpy and snappy you got when you were overtired.

The moonlight cast a soft glow into the car, the light bouncing off the black stone of his ring, softly illuminating the fresh ink of the tattoo that sat proudly on his ring finger, causing the smile on his face to grow even wider if that was possible. This week had turned into so much more than an escape to get off the grid, his heart was fuller than he ever thought was possible and that was all down to the sleeping beauty that was in the passenger seat. As he tore up the tarmac, he let his mind drift to what life was going to be like for the both of you. There were going to be a lot of things that needed to happen now you were married.

The first thing he wanted was to go house hunting. It made sense now you were married and he couldn’t bear to spend any more time apart from you than was necessary. Even though both of your places held so many good memories, they were both tarnished by the previous failed marriages and he didn’t want to start this marriage with the dark shadow of the past hovering over the pair of you. This trip was a fresh start for both of you and your hearts, he wanted a house that was both of yours.

Then there was the matter of telling everyone, it seemed a simple task but it was a task that held so much weight. This was big news and he knew it would cause an uproar, especially with his Mom. So he needed to think of a way that wouldn’t leave her too heartbroken and pissed off that she wasn’t there.

The roads passed, the miles were added to the car and the scenery, although you couldn’t see it, was changing. Glancing over to the passenger seat, his heart melted at how cute you looked, snuggled up against his hoodie. He had never been good with change, always hating it and refusing to acknowledge it happening but, this — this was one change that he was ready to embrace with open arms, ready to explore what would follow.

Nothing could wipe the smile off his face.

The hours had passed and he was in desperate need of a break and an extremely strong coffee. He felt his eyelids starting to get heavy due to the lack of caffeine. Slowly he let his foot off the gas, turning off the road and into the nearest gas station, gliding into a parking spot near the entrance. Running his hands over his face, he was ready for the break if he was being honest, his body was tight from sitting in the same position for the last three and a half hours. Turning off the ignition, he gently ran his knuckles across your cheek, trying to wake you in the softest way possible. It didn’t take long for you to slowly flutter your eyes open, the lack of vibrations from the car distrubed you slightly.

The moonlight made Jax’s baby blue eyes shine bright, as you offered him a sleepy smile, he swore his heart had stopped beating for a second. You were a drug he didn’t know he needed or ever wanted. But now he had you in his grasp, god, was he addicted, especially when it came to your kisses. “Hey sleepy,” he humed, taking your hand and placing tender kisses along your knuckles before tenderly kissing your rings.

“Are we home already?” You mumbled, rubbing your eyes with your other hand. Still half asleep so you didn’t really know where you were.

“No, not yet but I needed a break so I pulled into a gas station.” He whispered, brushing his nose against your soft skin.

“How long until we are back?” You asked, as you reached around to undo the seatbelt getting ready to get out of the car. You were grateful he had decided to stop, even in your sleep you were aching from the position you had been curled up in for the past few hours. Your body was screaming to stretch back out.

“Urm, think we still have about four and a half, maybe five hours left on the road.” He nodded, watching as you sighed before clambering out of the car. He hated lying to you, but he wasn’t quite ready to give the game away, not yet anyway. He knew it would only be a matter of time before you realised that this was a different way back to what you came at the start of the week.

One thing was certain, he couldn’t wait to spend the next week alone with you in the cabin in the woods.

In his eyes he couldn’t think of a better honeymoon.

NEXT PART

To unlock the next part this post needs to reach 100 notes 🖤

@chibsytelford @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @pumpkin-spice-hate @talicat713 @band--psycho @little-diable @jomariekirby @i-love-scott-mccall @pascal-reyes @fourthwallhateclub @withmyteeth @rosieposie0624 @choochoo284 @meteora-fc @beeroses @princess76179 @darklydeliciousdesires @corrigan-eko @stephv213 @krswrites @sassymoxley @sixshooter665 @thexhostess @innerpaperexpertcloud @mgkobsessed @vhideaway1012 @stillbreathin @louisianalady @mandabrammer2021 @scarletmeii @glimmerglittergirl @delightfulheroshoeflap @thoughtfullyfurryangel @trooper2002 @a-bang-for-your-bucky

#from this moment #jax teller #jax teller x reader #jax teller imagine #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy x reader #sons of anarchy imagine

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koushou · 3 years

Note

i love it smmmm omg. the megumi fix is amazing it’s more than i asked for ❤️❤️ bro 6,9k is a blessing you don’t understand how glad it made me it’s so worth the wait. tumblr is so dry when it comes to anime fics and especially w megumi thank you for feeding me something other than the crumbs this website gives me. i don’t want to be too annoying but whenever you’re free if you could do a pt 2 cause that ending omg. i love it sm and i can’t thank you enough ❤️

pairing : megumi x f!reader [fluff]

warnings : slight makeout scene idk HAHA nothing too intense though (also not proofread because i wanted to get this posted as soon as i finished it)

wc : 3.5k

a/n : ur too sweet omg and im FINALLY back from procrastinating your request again anon… (i really apologize i don’t mean to take so long pls forgive me D: ) i hope this is what you wanted!!

pt. 1 (you don’t really have to read pt 1 to understand this part but i do recommend it)

loud chatter echoes through the large modern dining hall located on the second floor of the hotel.

“i’m… so full…” a certain pink haired male burps for the nth time as he still continues to stuff food into his mouth. gojo laughs at itadori’s passion for the hotel food, while doing the same as he takes a large bite of a pancake.

you chuckle, taking a sip of your drink and leaning back in your cushioned chair, already finished with your 3rd plate of breakfast. i mean, who could blame you? hotel breakfast food just hits a different type of way.

“so, spill all the juicy events that happened last night, i wanna know!” nobara nudges you excitedly, her eyes twinkling as she pulls her chair closer to yours.

rolling your eyes, you look away from the ginger female and pretend to not have heard her. accidentally, you were now faced towards megumi, sitting on the opposite side of you. your eyes met for a brief moment before you quickly turned away, breaking the awkward interaction.

“aww— c’mon, y/n! please—“

“nothing happened at all! and don’t think i forgot the way you ignored my knocks on your door yesterday,” you shot her a glare, earning a sheepish laugh in return.

“but... in the same bed..?”

you were about to retort back when gojo stands up and claps his hand over his stomach, which now seemed just… a few sizes bigger.

“alright! have we all finished our food? god, when did hotel food get so good— anyway, it’s time to pack our things and head back home!” your constantly enthusiastic teacher exclaims, as a waiter comes to collect your plates.

after thanking the waiter and paying the bill (poor gojo-sensei’s wallet), you all head back upstairs to drive back home.

a thick silence hangs over your room as you and megumi collect your items, not wanting to bring up any events from last night. finally ready to head out, you walk towards the door to open it until another hand reaches the handle at the same time.

you retract your hand quickly, while the other hand lingers in the air above the knob.

“oh— sorry, you can go first!” you gulp, backing up a bit so megumi can exit first.

he pauses for a second, twisting the knob until the door pulls open. you expected him to walk out, but he makes his way to the other side of you instead, still holding the door open.

you look over at him with a questioning look, receiving a slight shrug and a hint of a smirk.

“ladies first.”

why was his stupid face so handsome?

you shook your head at his teasing expression, making your way out the door to the carpeted hallway, him following close behind.

the others were already at the lobby waiting, their conversation becoming clearer as you reach them.

“what’s taking them both so long? you don’t think they’re too busy… y’know…” nobara’s usual cheerful voice carries her words to your ears, making you roll your eyes and spook her from being.

“boo.”

“i’m just sayin- oh my go—“ she frantically turns around, breathing a sigh of relief upon seeing it was just you.

“you scared me!”

“what were we talking about?”

“nothing important! come on, we should get going!” nobara nudges gojo and itadori ahead, escaping you as she scurries out of the lobby.

you hear a yawn from behind you, a tuft of black hair moving past you as you suppress the urge to laugh at megumi’s already messy hairstyle, amplified by his morning bed hair.

finally, you were all seated back in gojo’s car, ready to drive back to the school so you all can head back to your own homes.

the ride back was full of gojo’s irritating voice singing along to songs playing from the car radio, itadori laughing along, and the rest of you too excited to leave the car.

“alright kids! we’re here, make sure to be safe on the way back home!”

gojo waves to all of you as you hop out of his car one by one, basking in the cool summer air for a few seconds.

“see you guys!”

itadori jogs away, heading in the direction of his own home, followed by megumi, then nobara, and lastly, you.

upon reaching your house, your mother welcomes you, asking about your day, if you had fun, and other typical mother questions.

you were telling her about your day when you suddenly recalled the hotel night events, and scurried away embarrassed upstairs to your room, leaving a very confused mom behind.

you flop down onto the bed, face down, wanting to get a good few minutes of quiet nap time in before your phone dings with a notification.

grunting, you pull your phone out from your pocket, swiping across the screen to check the message.

surprisingly, it was from megumi, eyebrows suspiciously raising as you open the text message from him. you two rarely texted unless it was about school or business-related, so you couldn’t think of anything he would need from you right now.

megumi : Hey.

megumi : I have your hair tie with me. You probably left it in my bag or something.

megumi : I’m coming over in 5 minutes.

you sat up abruptly, rereading his messages to make sure your eyes weren’t playing tricks on you.

you had been so caught up with his prior messages that you failed to register that he said he was going to be at your house in… 5 minutes.

hurriedly, you swiped to see what time he had sent that last message. 12:34 AM.

your eyes moved to the top of your phone screen, reading the current time. 12:37 AM.

almost falling out of bed scrambling to your room mirror, you checked your appearance to make sure you looked fine and your hair wasn’t messy and-

you paused.

“why am i so concerned about how i look? why do i care about this?”

you slapped your face with both hands, bringing yourself back to reality when you were interrupted again, but this time by your doorbell ringing from downstairs.

making your way out of your room, you saw that your mom had already opened the door with a familiar tall figure standing in the doorway.

“oh! megumi, it’s been a while!” your mom lets megumi in with a smile, already going to the kitchen to make him some tea.

he bows politely, sitting down on the couch, now changed into a loose white t-shirt with black shorts.

“uh- theres no need to make me tea, i won’t be here for too long—“

“nonsense! you can even stay for lunch, dear megumi! i just have to prepare the last dish and—“

you finally clear your throat, standing at the middle of the stairs, catching both of their attention.

“oh, y/n! i have to go out to the grocery store for some ingredients, take care of our guest megumi, alright?” she places two cups of tea on the table in front of megumi, grabbing her keys to head out.

“wait, mom—“

she sends you a wink by the door, already outside before you can finish your sentence.

you sigh in defeat, sitting across from megumi on the other couch.

“here.”

megumi pulls out a black hair tie from his pocket, almost identical to the one currently around your wrist.

you raise your eyebrows in suspicion at the hair tie. “but i only have one? and i didn’t bring any extra yesterday..?” you motion to your own arm.

he looks back and forth between your wrist and the one he had in his hand, scratching his head in confusion.

“it was in our hotel room, so i assumed it was yours.” he shrugs, placing it on the table. “but if it isn’t, i can just throw it away.”

you hum, taking a sip of the tea your mom prepared as he does the same, cringing as the still hot tea burns his tongue.

“pfft…”

he glares at you, placing the cup down as his eyes scan around your living room, taking in the decorations.

“i’ll just keep it then, it seems new.” you take the forgotten hair tie on the table, and wear it around your wrist, now decorated with two black hair ties.

he nods, sitting back against the couch, silence falling between you both.

a question suddenly popped up in your mind, your mouth moving faster than your brain.

“you came all the way here… just to give me a hair tie?”

the question seems to set him a little nervous, clearing his throat and avoiding eye contact as he fidgets in his seat.

“well— i figured i’d return it to you before i forgot,” he shrugs, reaching out to take another sip of his tea before pulling back quickly again at the heat.

you nod slowly, still unconvinced with his answer. who goes all the way to someone’s house to return a hair tie?

“okay then, see you on monday?” you get up, ready to send him back off.

his head snaps up, still not moving in his seat as he opens his mouth slowly, as if unsure of how to respond.

“um- i thought your mom said i could stay…for lunch…?”

he averts his eyes, pink dusting his pale cheeks as he looks away. your mouth forms into an ‘o’ shape as you recall your mom’s words and those were - in fact what she had said.

it wasn’t that you were against him staying for lunch, but you two weren’t even friends or remotely close at that. rivals would even suit you both better than friends.

“but if you want i can, uh, leave now,” he starts to stand, looking uncomfortable in his position across from you.

it was then that you remembered megumi’s background, that his mother had left early at birth, plus his father wasn’t exactly present.

you couldn’t imagine living without your parents, and how lonely he must be without true family.

“no! i mean, that’s not what i meant, you can stay.” you sputter out before he gets the wrong idea.

his eyes seem to light up at your words, nodding before sitting back down on his previous spot on the couch.

you glance over at the time on your phone, it had been around 7 minutes after your mom had left.

the tension was thick in the room, and just when you thought you were about to explode from the awkwardness, he finally breaks the silence.

“do you… play that?”

you turn to where his eyes are placed on, seeing your black xbox console laying on top of a cabinet, having been untouched for a while.

“oh that? yeah, occasionally, why?”

you hear a snicker from beside you, snapping your head to find his lips curled into a teasing grin.

“oh, i just didn’t think a nerd like you would play games.”

you raise your eyebrows at his words. “you sure about that? it doesn’t seem like you’re very good at games either, megumi.” you make sure to stretch out each three syllables of his name to tease him further.

he huffs while leaning back, still maintaining intense eye contact with you, almost challenging each other to say something back.

“how about this, whoever wins against the other gets to make them do whatever they want. no matter what it is.” he nods over to the console, tilting his head as he waits for your response.

you chuckle, standing up to take the console, fiddling with it for a moment before turning back to him.

“alright, just don’t cry when you lose too much, okay?”

he shrugs, smirking as he looks around the living room for the other console, making you remember something.

“oh, the other console plus a TV is in my room, wanna just play there?”

he stiffens suddenly, before nodding slowly and following you upstairs to your room.

reaching the door, you suddenly stop, making megumi grunt and come to a stop, almost crashing into you.

“uh - wait here.”

you open the door just enough to slip inside, quickly gathering some of your belongings and cleaning as much as you could, to at least make your room seem presentable.

“okay!” you open the door for megumi, who makes no move to enter at first.

“...”

“you can come in.”

“... is this okay?”

you cock your head, not understanding his question.

“your mom isn’t home.”

“...so?”

“we’re alone.”

“and?”

“i’m… going into your room.”

“what is your point?” you began to grow frustrated at this conversation. then, it hit you all of a sudden.

“ahh, megumi? have you never been in a girl’s room alone before?” you snicker, shaking your head from laughter.

he starts to protest, before quickly closing his mouth and finally entering your room.

you connect the two consoles into your TV in your room, sitting down on the edge of your bed as you load up the games on the screen.

“you can sit here if you want,” you pat the empty spot next to you, to which he carefully sits down on, taking one console from your hand.

“ready?”

he nods, as you start the game.

-- --

“what--?!”

you throw your hands up in frustration, groaning as you flop backwards on the bed.

“i told you, you can’t beat me.” megumi chuckles, dodging a stuffed bear you threw in his direction.

you huffed, sitting back up, determined to beat him at least once.

“one last rematch!”

he lets out a laugh, a rare one that you think you might just never forget, and starts the game again.

after a few minutes of intense clicking, yelling and laughing, you let out a proud shout, the word victory flashing across your screen.

you pick up another stuffed animal from your bed and toss it straight at megumi’s face, celebrating as he lets out an ‘oof’ and glare back at you.

“but i still won around, 7 times, so i get to make you do something- oof-” he stumbles back again from another stuffed animal to the face.

“hmm? i don’t know what you’re talking about--” you pretend to not have heard him before your vision goes momentarily black from a soft object hitting your face, a pink bear landing in your lap.

“hey!”

“what, you keep throwing them at me!”

“fine…”

“hey, why are you getting so close--!”

you tackle megumi backwards onto the bed, throwing your pillows at his face -- not very gently -- as he tries to shield his arms in vain.

“ahh—! okay, okay, i’m sorry, stop it—“ he huffs as you finally stops your attack, his dark blue orbs looking up into yours.

you only now noticed your close proximity, quickly sitting back up to create some distance between the both of you. he clears his throat, fiddling with one of your pillows.

“well, a loss is a loss, what do i have to do?” you sigh, admitting your defeat.

“hmm…” he seems to be lost in deep thought, probably trying to find the worst thing he can make you do.

after a few silent, intense seconds, he finally speaks.

“are you… free tomorrow?”

you turn to him, giving him a questioning look at his strange question. he only stares back at you in response, awaiting your answer.

“um… yeah, i’m free the whole day, why do you as-“

“come watch a movie with me tomorrow.” he blurts out quickly, not even letting you finish your sentence.

you gape at him, still processing his words, unsure if you had heard wrong.

“... sorry?”

his face was reddenning by the second, yet his eyes remained firmly on yours the whole time.

“let’s go watch the new movie in the theater. i heard it’s quite popular already despite releasing only last week.”

“oh… okay, i can ask nobara if she wants to com-“

“don’t!” he says a little too loudly, clearing his throat after as he regains his composure.

“i mean, i- just, you.”

“just.. us?”

he nods.

silence fell again between the two of you, unsure if he was asking you what you thought he was asking you. you decide to test the waters cautiously.

“man.. it’s almost like you’re asking me out on a date, megumi?” you tease lightly, expecting a ‘tch’ or an, ‘as if’.

“so what if i am?”

now that was an answer you weren’t expecting.

“you’re.. joking, right?”

megumi sighs, moving closer until his body was mere centimeters away from yours.

“i’m serious.”

“do you... like me or something?”

he stares at you blankly. “would i ask you on a date if i didn’t have feelings for you, idiot?”

you only just realize how stupid your question sounded, trying to find a response until he reaches up to cup your cheek with one hand.

they felt soft, yet slightly gruff from constant training and fighting, large enough to cover one half of your face. they were warm, slightly trembling probably from nervousness, yet made you wish he’d never take it off.

“it’s okay if you don’t want to. we can forget this ever happened.” his own cheeks turning slightly pink, yours probably even worse as the space between your faces closed in slowly.

“but i don't think i can do this anymore, so just let me be a little selfish this once, okay?”

barely registering his words before he moves in to kiss you, soft lips moving against the other as his hand tightens against the side of your cheek. you barely register your own actions anymore, hands reaching up to tangle themselves in his hair, moving down to his neck, and finally finding home cupped around his face.

he groans against your lips, pressing you down until he was now hovering above you, never breaking the kiss even once in the process. you lost track of how long you both had been making out in your bed before you hear the front door open from downstairs.

frantically, the both of you separated in fear of your mom catching you in the act, catching your breaths while still processing what just happened.

you hear shuffling from downstairs, standing up to escape megumi before you were pulled back into a warm chest.

“wait—“ his arms wrap around you to trap you from leaving his grasp, your eyes looking everywhere but his, and suddenly your wall was the most interesting thing in sight.

“are we… really going to pretend that didn’t happen?” you finally gather the courage to look him in the face, almost melting at the soft pout set on his (now slightly redder than before) lips.

“ilikeyoutoo.” you get out quickly before you lose the chance to say it again.

he stiffens against you, eyes lighting up almost like an excited puppy receiving treats. “you like me? i didn’t hear you, so can you say it again?”

you huff, trying to wriggle your way out of his arms, only resulting in him pulling you closer to sit on his lap. he presses his forehead to yours, chuckling at your futile attempt to escape.

“i said— i like you—!” you ram your head into his, making him groan in pain, loosening his hold on you. the perfect chance for escape.

you saw the opportunity, dashing to the door, twisting the knob, almost getting it open until—

“nope,” megumi’s hand stops the door in time, instead twisting you around until your back was now flat against the wood, both of his palms placed beside your head.

“y/n? megumi?” your mom’s voice calls from downstairs, but all you could hear was your heartbeat thumping loudly in your chest.

“megumi! move, my mom’s home,” you place your hands on his chest, trying to push him away to no avail.

he grabs your pushing hand and places it on the left side of his chest, letting you feel the soft but fast thumping of his heart, almost matching the pace of your own.

“this is all your fault. you’re not gonna take responsibility for it?” he inches closer to your burning face, making you huff and grab his face.

you press your lips to his, feeling him immediately return the kiss, but you pull away after a few seconds, leaving him still trying to kiss you again.

“nope, my mom’s home, and i’m hungry.”

you open the door, seeing your mom begin to set the table with plates of food downstairs. you look back at megumi, who still looked sad after getting his kiss cut short.

sighing, you take his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers together before pulling him down the stairs.

“come on, it’s time for lunch. you’ll get more later.”

you feel him perk up, giving your hand a squeeze as he follows close behind.

you steal a glance at your wrist, still wearing both the hair ties. good thing he hadn’t noticed you stuffing one into his bag this morning.

#megumi x reader #megumi x reader fluff #megumi fluff #megumi fushiguro oneshot #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro fluff #megumi x you #megumi fushiguro x you #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen oneshot #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader fluff #jujutsu kaisen megumi

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seravphs · 3 years

Text

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — GETOU X FEM READER

Some people have embarrassing exes, ones who are too childish, or overly controlling, or just downright way under their league. You have Getou, a mass murderer and criminal on the run. You are not coping well with that information.

wc — 12.2k

contains — Gojo My Favorite Deus Ex Machina Satoru, mention of kids (sorry), my blatant favoritism of Utahime and Nanami, angst with a happy ending, deviates from canon, death, violence, suicidal tendencies for a bit, grief, loss, mourning, imo most of this is happy though, i’m not joking like 50% of this is just jujutsu high shenanigans idk why the tags are like this

One of the primary purposes of education at sorcery school was to beat mercy out of it’s child soldiers. It sounded brutal, but in reality, it was an understood necessity - brutality was what kept you alive in your line of work.

That meant it was surprising when your classmate took his foot off your windpipe in the middle of sparring, having only rested it there briefly without crushing it hard enough to leave bruises. You blink up at him from your position in the dirt, winded but already preparing for another fight. That was the way sparring worked - fight until you either beat him or collapsed. At least this time, you hadn’t been paired against Gojo or Yuki. Yuki wasn’t even a student anymore, she just liked coming back to train the new generation. In your opinion, she enjoyed the fights a little too much, but no one had asked.

Getou kneels beside you and against your training, you close your eyes, only to snap them back open when you remember. It’s always better to be able to see a hit coming, even if you can’t avoid it. His hand comes towards your face. With sick humor, you think mockingly of how the bruise will at least match the black eye already blooming over your left eye, when his hand skirts past your cheek entirely and places itself on your shoulder, steadying you.

“You need a break.”

The first thing you learn about Getou Suguru is that he is not a typical sorcerer. Anyone else, even your mother, would have pressed you to keep going. Growth only comes from being pushed to your limits, but for some reason, Getou spares you the exhaustion and puking your guts out over the toilet from overexertion.

Ignoring your protests about your ability to still fight (complete lies, which he’s aware of, since you’re barely able to stand), he pulls your arm over your shoulder and half carries, half walks you to the dorm. He knows which room is yours.

“Creep,” you accuse, which isn’t really fair because he’s trying to help you out, but admittedly, it is a little weird.

“Don’t go thinking you’re special,” he snorts. “I remember everyone’s room numbers.”

“We’re having a rematch later,” you demand. You don’t understand why he would show you mercy, but you’re determined to make it count. He’s going to regret letting you off easy when you kick his ass. That’s just how sorcery works - empathy isn’t rewarded.

He looks amused when he tells you that he doesn’t fight the weak. His kindness stings more than an outright insult.

You’re surprised Getou’s succeeding so well in class when he so flagrantly ignores the most important rules of sorcery. Kindness is forgivable. Generosity isn’t, and yet Getou shows no end of it. He’s always willing to give up a snack he loves because someone else was looking at it, to brace Utahime when she trips over her skirts in a fight, to sit with Gojo when no one else can bear how annoying he is. You suppose it’s a virtue of the strong - they can afford to be empathetic without worrying what it might cost them.

In the few weeks since you first joined Jujutsu Academy, you've learned a few more truths about sorcerers, besides needing to be vicious. All sorcerers have terrible sleeping habits. They might as well be nocturnal.

This gives you free reign of the campus, with no one to bother you, if you can get up early enough in the mornings, but Getou surprises you by also being in the kitchen when you walk in. He’s always doing that, the unexpected, ever since your very first week here.

“Hey,” he greets you like he didn’t attempt to choke the life from you again yesterday. To be fair, he had held back, which is more than you can say for your other classmates. You wince, thinking of Yuki’s arms as strong as iron, the way one hit from her felt like it had cracked your ribs open. You’re still a little miserable at your easy defeat, and it probably shows on your face.

He slides a piece of warm, buttered waffle dipped in syrup in your mouth before you can greet him back. Your eyebrows raise before you can control your expression. He looks amused when you say, “You can cook?”

“Even better,” he says, bending down to check the oven. “I can bake. While we wait, can you come with me for a second? I want to show you something.”

He takes your hand without argument - his skin is so warm, probably from the heat of the stove - and guides you out the back of the dorms.

You walk a bit, and then he turns around, forcing you to stop or bump into him. “Do you trust me?”

Your first instinct is to say, “Not at all.” You don’t trust anyone that’s not from your clan, and you’ve only known Getou for a few weeks, but the sudden memory of him anxiously peering over you while checking your face for injuries stops you in your tracks. If he wanted to hurt you, he could’ve done so already, and without punishment.

Wordlessly, you nod, though you’re still cautious. He covers your eyes with his hands and directs you, “A little left, a little right, good, now straight forward.”

When his hands leave your eyes, you’re standing in a clearing, surrounded by a grove of trees. Their branches are woven together in a dome overhead, various flowers and vines clinging to their lengths, and wildflowers beneath your feet. It’s beautiful, and not something you would’ve expected from Jujutsu Academy.

Getou looks pleased with himself. “It’s pretty, right? Yaga-sensei told me about this place. He got engaged here.”

Pretty isn’t enough to describe it. It feels like you walked into the set of a movie. Getou laughs at your awestruck expression.

“It’s so quiet,” you whisper, almost afraid to break the peaceful atmosphere.

“It’s not far from the campus itself, but I think the woods are a good insulator. It’s a nice place to think, right?” He reaches his hands out to brush the trunks. With his long black hair, his white pajamas, he looks almost like he belongs there. A forest sprite, something not quite human, destined always for something beyond you.

“Thank you for showing me this.”

He shrugs off your gratitude, and you fall into awkward silence. Itching to break it, you cast around for anything, any topic of conversation to be interesting. He did bring you here after all. It’s an olive branch. You want to offer him something too, but instead you insult his best friend, because that’s the kind of person you are. He laughs it off, because that’s the kind of person he is.

“I kind of wish Gojo wouldn’t find out about this. He’d hog it every day and then we’d never get this silence again.”

He looks at you in consideration. “Okay, so don’t tell him.”

“But he’s your best friend.”

“My best friend, for what, two weeks? If you want me to keep this a secret, I will.”

A moment of tense silence stretches between you two. He’s waiting for a reply, you realize. “I want you to.”

He smiles.

When you return, Utahime is up, and her expression is thunderous. “Which one of you left this-“ she holds up a charred, unrecognizable black lump of coal, “in the oven?”

You and Getou realize at the same time that you’d neglected to set a timer.

Utahime taps her foot impatiently. “I’m waiting. You could’ve burned the house down!”

Out of the corner of your eye, Getou, ever responsible and kind, steps forward to take responsibility. Maybe you’re paying him back for the breakfast or the shared secret, maybe you’re just sick of him being so good all the time, but you take the burned remains from Utahime’s hands. “I did it. Sorry. I wanted Getou to accompany me on a walk and I just forgot.”

She sighs but melts somewhat. “As long as you don’t do it again.” She perks up again at the mention of a walk. Even though you’ve both been on campus for at least a few weeks, you’ve been too busy training to really explore. “Did you at least see anything interesting?”

You feel Getou’s eyes on your back, curious, but you refuse to turn around and meet his gaze.

“No, not at all.”

Shoko comes later in the year, having been exempt from the earlier classes as a non-combatant, but she’s immediately taken under Utahime’s wing, just like you are. You’re grateful that your upperclassman takes such good care of you, and a little surprised - your mother had always told you that kindness was weakness - but she’s adamant in her doting.

“Yuki Tsukumo did it for me, and now I’ll do it for you,” she says. Yuki graduated already, but occasionally she comes back to wreak havoc, cause more of Yaga’s gray hairs, and train Gojo as the one of the few people in the world that can put up a fight for him, though perhaps not for long, at the rate he’s improving.

It’s not just in classes though. You’ve never had friends like Shoko and Utahime, not back home, where your mother had kept you separated from the Three Great Families, and by extension, the rest of Jujutsu Society. Utahime insists on sleepovers and parties and all the things friends do, and you’re glad to indulge her. You can admit, even if it’s only to yourself, that the one that’s really being spoiled is you.

She barely complains when you throw yourself over her on the mattress, lying across her stomach. Shoko climbs up after you, though she’s much more dignified, choosing to sit at the foot of your bed instead. She pulls out a cigarette, but reconsiders after Utahime’s furious face. “You haven’t perfected your technique yet. Put that away.”

It’s easy to fall into inane conversation with your girls - the bodies in Shoko’s morgue, your attempts to master swordplay, Utahime’s constant fighting with Gojo.

“Speaking of,” Shoko says, the gleam in her eyes signifying she’s up to her usual mischief. “Are you sure there isn’t something else there, Utahime?”

Turning bright red doesn’t help her case, but she tries to play it off anyways. “What are you talking about?”

“Just that you’re awfully cozy lately,” she hums. “Yeah, you fight all the time, but no one can get under your skin like he can, huh? And you’re really touchy with each other.”

“I’m disciplining him. Are you really going to call it touchy if I’m slapping his hand? It’s not like that!”

Shoko grins. “Yeah, but it’s different if he likes it. What, you can’t tell? He’s always making excuses for you to touch him.”

Come to think of it, Shoko’s right. You chime in, “Remember this morning? He’s always grumpy when he’s just woken up, but Shoko, what did we walk in on?”

Utahime throws her hands up. “Stop, stop!” She pushes you off her, but you keep going.

In unison with Shoko, you strike. “Who was that sprawled over your lap like a large cat, Utahime? You know, the one you were petting, your hand in his hair?”

Utahime blows her bangs out of her face in a frustrated huff. “Fine, you want to play that game? What about you and Getou? And Shoko, don’t think I haven’t noticed the massive crush you have on Yuki.”

“What crush,” Shoko says, as collected as always, though the effect is lessened by the light blush covering her cheeks. “I just think she’s interesting. A good fighter.”

“Getou and I,” you start, then hesitate. What are you and Getou? You’re certainly closer than you are with anyone barring Shoko and Utahime, and you do hang out a lot alone, but still, you pause. It’s a deadly mistake that Utahime intends to make use out of.

“You’re whipped,” she marvels.

“What? No, I’m not! We’re just friends.”

“Come on,” Shoko says. “You can’t tell me you’ve never noticed the tension between the two of you. When you had him pinned down on the mat this morning, didn’t you see the way he was looking at you?”

You remember all too well, which is the problem. He had been the one that taught you the move you used on him. Ever since he realized you were frustrated with being unable to keep up with the more physical aspects of fighting, he had taken it upon himself to personally train you, leading to spending hours stretching into the night wrestling and sparring with him. The feeling of his body under yours, the shocked look on his face when you managed to throw him off his feet for the first time - your veins still sang with pleasure. You flex your hand, his phantom touch lingering, the way he had guided your movements.

Shoko gags. “Ugh, look at her face, Utahime. This isn’t fun if you’re going to get all lovesick about it.”

“I’m not in love!” Your protests fall on deaf ears.

Taking on missions is usually reserved for the upperclassmen, but with fewer and fewer sorcerers being born, they've accelerated the curriculum. You're only a second year when you get your first solo mission, in a few years, perhaps they'll be giving them to first years.

You shudder at the thought. You're very fond of your new underclassmen, Nanami and Yuu. Imagining them fighting curses alone is horrifying, especially sweet Yuu, whose empathetic nature always leaves him crying right alongside the mourning mothers of victims.

The special grades, on the other hand, were taking solo missions by the end of their first year. Utahime had been green with envy. You had taken one look at Gojo (you had thought he was invincible before this), freshly back from a mission and bleeding profusely, and decided that you were more than happy to wait your turn.

You had never seen Gojo's blood before that. Thinking about your classmates in various states of distress isn't the way you'd prefer to go to bed, but it's been several hours already, and your eyes have yet to shut. You toss and turn in your bed for thirty more minutes before you get up and head to the kitchen, resigned to the fact that you won’t be getting any sleep tonight.

It’s normally easy to find everything you need for your sleeping tea because Utahime meticulously organizes the kitchen when she wants to destress, but someone’s ransacked it. There’s a trail of blood leading from the front door to in front of the white cabinets, where it pools, like the unknown person had stood there for a while. The cabinet itself is thrown open and the first aid kit is missing. Following the trail, the light of the bathroom shines under the crack of the door.

You did say the box with the bandaids and alcohol should be kept in the bathroom, but no one wanted to listen to you because Gojo always cut himself when he cooked and he couldn’t be bothered to make the five foot journey.

Mentally, you run through a list of who was out on missions tonight - almost everyone but you and the first years. If it was Utahime in the bathroom, you’d keep her company while she cleaned herself up. If it was Gojo, you would either laugh at him, or, if it was really bad, distract him from the pain.

The door swings open, leaving you blinking in the harsh light. It’s Getou, white towel pressed to a gash on his forearm, hair slicked back from his forehead with sweat.

“Need a hand with that?” You nod at his arm. Judging by the defiled kitchen and the way the towel is quickly turning brown-red, he’s lost a lot of blood. Shoko’s off scamming admissions officers to let her into medical school, and won’t be back before dawn. That means it’s up to you, the second best nurse besides Utahime, who’s good at everything, to tend to him. You aren’t really giving him a choice, just being polite.

He turns you down anyways, like the headstrong idiot he is. He hates being compared to Gojo, but in some ways, he really is. They’re both too proud to accept help, and often, they don’t need it. Not today, though.

“I wasn’t really offering. Give me your arm.” He almost snatches it back out of your grip as soon as you grab it, but it must really hurt, because when you tighten your grip, his face goes white and he bites back a groan.

“Sorry.” You’re not really. Serves him right.

Up close, the wound doesn’t look as bad as all the bleeding suggests. Whoever cut him must have been terrible, missing all the important veins.

“Want stitches?”

He gives you a horrified look and resumes trying to yank his arm out of your grasp, making you regret your little joke.

“I was just kidding, it’s not that deep. You’re still going to need to disinfect and bandage it though.”

“It’s alright. I can do it myself. You should go back to bed - don’t you have a mission tomorrow?”

“I can’t sleep anyways. ”

Taking a clean towel from the stack set aside specifically for this purpose, you set to work washing the wound as gently as you can, doing your best to ignore the fact that he’s pale and sweaty and barely biting back whimpers.

“Hey.” You touch the back of his hand. “Are you still with me?”

“It’s not that deep,” he says, parroting your words back to you.

“That doesn’t mean you have to just suffer through it.” You’re almost amused with the childishness of it. “If you had just asked me for help, you know I’d be more than glad to. Here, take this.”

Dutifully, he dry swallows the pills you give him and makes a face. You wonder if it tastes like curses.

“You can complain, you know. I’d be mad if Gojo did it, but it’s okay if you want to. I know it hurts.”

“It’s fine,” he says, gritting his teeth. “Just finish, please.”

“Actually, it’s not a choice anymore. Doctor’s orders. Stop trying to chew through your lip, you idiot. If it hurts, just say so.”

“That won’t help it heal.”

“But it feels better.”

You get through it together, Getou squeezing his eyes shut against the burning pain of you pouring disinfectant into his cut. True to your words, he doesn’t try to muffle himself anymore. By the time you’re done bandaging him up (it’s not deep but it’s long, white cloth now covering his entire forearm), he looks like he’s about to pass out.

He’s gross and dirty from the mission, but this is probably the best you’re getting out of him for tonight. It’s not like you haven’t slept in worse conditions before. Coming home tired enough to sleep in barely cleaned off monster guts and sweat is unfortunately just part of being a sorcerer.

“Come on,” you say, letting him lean on you as you guide him to his room. “Get some sleep. When you wake up, Shoko will be here and everything will be better.”

You ease him into his bed with a sigh of relief. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

He mumbles something into his pillow, but since he’s speaking with cloth in his mouth, you don’t understand.

“What was that?”

“Thank you.”

He peers at you over the covers, eyes exhausted and dark circles prominent, but you can tell from the way the corners of his eyes crease that he’s smiling. His hand reaches for yours, clutches it, brings it to his lips.

“Thank you,” he says again, his breath ghosting over your skin. It tingles where he’s touched you.

You head back to your own room feeling faintly pleased, but also uncomfortable for a reason you can’t quite place until later that night. The last thought you have before you fall asleep is of Getou. Doesn’t he know there are other options to suffering?

Apparently not, because he’s fresh-faced and ready to accompany you on your mission tomorrow, sitting at the breakfast table chewing a slice of toast while Yaga debriefs him on the details.

“You’re not coming. Yaga, tell him he’s not coming.”

Your teacher looks apologetic. “Sorry.”

“Are you kidding me? He just got back!”

Shoko twirls her hair around her finger thoughtfully. You have no idea why she’s looking at you like that, but her expression is a little like a cat who's found a particularly interesting mouse to play with. “It’ll be fine, calm down. It’s not like he’s actually fighting. You’ll be doing all the real work, he just has to swallow the curse at the end.”

In the end, it’s 3 against 1, and Getou ends up with you on the train to Osaka. It’s supposed to be a simple exorcism, but the town the site is located in has cats running all along the streets, and you can’t help but stop and feed them. Getou brings out the dried fish he packed as a snack, so they’re all over him. Watching them bat at his shoelaces makes you laugh so hard you almost fall over in your unbalanced crouch, and he slides an arm over your shoulders to steady you.

Shoko watches you and Getou play with the cats with a smug look on her face, like she knows something you don’t.

“You have a thing for taking in strays, don’t you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You raise an eyebrow at her, but she just brushes off her cryptic comment.

“Nothing. You’ll figure it out eventually. Probably.”

You fall asleep on the train ride back and wake up with your head pillowed on Getou’s shoulder. It’s such a small, simple thing. You had always thought if you ever fell in love, it would be something monumental, like the fairytales your mother used to read to you when you were little. You would see them and know that they were right for you, know that this is who you were meant to be with. Instead, your heart stutters in your chest because you’re realizing what Shoko meant, a series of small realizations piling on top of each other until it’s impossible to ignore.

You’re in love with Getou.

A quick glance at his face tells you he’s still asleep and so is Shoko, but it’s now or never. You can’t wait, or you’ll lose your nerve.

“Getou.” He grumbles and slouches further into his seat. “Getou. Hey! Wake up!”

His eyes snap open. “Who am I fighting? What is it?” His voice is still drowsy.

“I’m in love with you.”

“What?” He shakes his head slowly, like a large dog waking up. “Hang on, what was that? I think I misheard you.”

“I’m in love with you.”

His jaw drops open. “Are you serious? Is this a prank? You’re not funny.”

“I’m in love with you.” It’s like it’s the only thing you can say, all the nerves in your brain completely burned out in the all encompassing fear that he might say no, that he might laugh at you - but you can’t stop yourself. You don’t regret it. You had to tell him.

He hangs his head and peers up at you through his eyelashes. “You’re hopeless.”

Your heart drops into your stomach. “So you don’t-“

And then he’s kissing you, and it’s the most right feeling in the world, like everything is exactly where it’s supposed to be. You sigh into his mouth; the kiss more like a fight, like the way it started between you two, him stealing your air, you biting his lips. He kisses you, and kisses you, and doesn’t stop until the moon is fully bright in the sky and your lips are bruised, eyes bright.

Across from you, Shoko says, “Gross.”

You start dating the next morning.

As soon as you walk into class, Gojo can’t help himself. Shoko’s a horrible gossip. He jeers, “Look at the two lovebirds! Can you manage to keep your hands to yourself during class, at least?”

“Says the man who can’t even get a girlfriend,” your boyfriend comments, casually getting his writing utensils out of his bag.

Gojo blinks, and then turns his attention to you. “Can you get your dog? I don’t like when it bites back.”

Dating Getou doesn’t change much. You’re the same as you’ve always been, teasing, fighting, laughing together, but the knowledge that you love him, and he loves you, is always there. Love is always present, in the way your heart flutters when you wake him up for breakfast and his voice is rough, in the lump in your throat when he presses his lips to your neck as you cuddle.

You’re in bed together, since he’s taken to sleeping in your room. Strange conversations always happen at night, your idle mind wandering, but he humors you and your weird, stray thoughts.

“Would you want kids?” You murmur against the crown of his head, the stray hairs tickling your face. He stills in your arms (you’re the big spoon today), then rolls over so you’re face to face, breath to breath. His eyes are half closed, watching you with languid pleasure. It makes you restless, wanting to kiss each eyelid, scatter your love across his cheekbones and nose bridge and all of him, until he’s squirming away from you in laughter.

“Do you?”

You consider it. Kids, adulthood, even marriage are all things that seem so far away, like death. Eventually you’ll grow up and perhaps you’ll decide to start your own family, just like eventually you’ll die, but in the warm light of your room, shadows of butterflies scattered over the walls from the lampshade Getou cut shapes out of and presented to you as a gift, everything feels so hazy and far away. It’s just the two of you in this moment, you can’t even begin to imagine what tomorrow might look like, much less years later.

“I’m not sure. I haven’t decided.”

He hums in agreement. “I want whatever you want.”

“You better,” you laugh, and slap his arm playfully. “But have you ever thought about it?”

His fingers ghost over your hips, tap a steady rhythm on your ribs as he thinks. “Maybe two girls. I think I’d like daughters.”

“You would,” you agree. “You’d spoil them rotten.”

It all feels so far away. The conversation slides from your mind as easily as the memory of the day’s breakfast, only to stab you in the back in the not so distant future.

Nothing changes between you and Getou, but that doesn’t mean the world around you doesn’t shift to accommodate this new thing blooming between the two of you.

You meet Getou in the hall. “Any idea why Yaga wants us?”

He shakes his head. “Not a clue.”

You’re ambushed as soon as you step into his office.

“I’ve heard you’re dating.” Yaga turns his steel gaze on you. You’re not sure if you’re allowed to laugh, but this feels like a joke.

“Sir, with all due respect-“

“In my experience, people usually say that before something disrespectful,“ he says.

“I feel like you have better things to do than meddle in your student’s love lives. Do you need us to set you up?”

He stiffens at the last bit. Getou raises his eyebrows, but before he can ask, Yaga recovers. “As impertinent as ever,” he sighs. “I’m just looking out for you. Love for a jujutsu sorcerer isn’t the same as other people’s, you know. You will live and die alone.”

You’ve heard this bit before, but he continues. “I’ve seen husbands and wives torn apart. The anguish of being the one left behind -“ the way he looks at you sends chills down your spine. “I hope you never experience it. I would rather you not.”

“Speaking of kids,” Getou cuts in. “Shouldn’t you be encouraging us? God knows we need more sorcerers.”

Yaga’s face goes white. “Are you-?” He can’t finish his sentence. “Tell me you’re being safe.”

You shoot Getou a horrified look. Is this his idea of helping? “We’re not!”

“You’re not?” Yaga looks furious.

“We’re not doing anything,” you amend. “Yaga,” your tone softens. “Thank you. I appreciate it. But I’ve already chosen him.”

He sniffs. “You're both so young. What do you know of love? What happens when Getou dies and you’re left behind? What then?”

Getou cuts in again, face deadly serious in a way that it hadn’t been before. “I can love her from beyond the grave.”

Yaga says nothing. The way he’s looking at you makes you so uncomfortable, like he’s already seeing the future, one where you have to live without each other, separated by the greatest divide in the world. You’re reminded that your teacher, for his youthful appearance, is old. He’s taught and watched as hundreds of sorcerers, his students, came and left and died. His face is unhappy, but he touches both of your brows, brushes back your hair, and says, “Then you have my blessing. I want happiness for you both.”

The conversation with your teacher stirs something in you, apprehension lurking under your skin, but all that disappears when you return to the dorms.

It’s one of the rare days when none of you have missions - you suspect Yaga saw the schedule and took on Utahime’s mission for himself so you’d all be together - and everyone is in the common room: Gojo, sprawled across the top of the couch like a particularly annoying cat; Nanami, sitting on the bean bag Gojo had begged Yaga to get for you all; Yuu, reclining against the bean bag with his back braced against Nanami’s thighs; Utahime, flicking idly through channels on the TV, seated on the sofa and ignoring the imminent threat of being crushed by Gojo; and Shoko, head in Utahime’s lap and legs dangling off the couch. Utahime smiles up at you when you walk in. Getou selects a paperback from the shelf and collapses in on himself like a deflated soufflé in the armchair, absorbed in an instant. You join them, sitting at the foot of Getou’s chair, head pillowed against his knee.

For a while, everything is peaceful, then, as always, Gojo stirs things up. He’s been talking incessantly about his failed attempts to master purple for what feels like hours. You’ve long since tuned him out, but every once in a while you check back in to see how much more frequently Utahime’s eye twitches. You're running an experiment to analyze the number of twitches it’ll take before she loses it, but surprisingly, it’s Shoko that snaps first.

You watch in amusement as she gets up. “I’m not listening to this drivel anymore.”

“Shut up, yes you are,” Gojo hauls her back. Shoko thwacks him on the head, but he tosses a ten dollar bill and a fistful of candy pulled from his pocket in her lap.

You make a face. “I wouldn’t eat that if I were you. It probably has lint on it.”

“Gojo germs,” Getou says agreeably.

“Gojo,” Yuu says, horrified, “you don’t have to pay her to listen to you. I’m listening, don’t worry.”

It’s him that should be worried, you think. Somehow he’s gotten the idea into his head that Gojo’s being bullied by the four of you (being Utahime, Getou, Shoko, and you) and is determined to give him support and attention so he can flourish and stand up for himself. Gojo, of course, is eating it up, and takes every chance to burst into theatrics in front of the boy when he can remember he’s supposed to be a victim.

Above you, Getou snorts. “What’s so funny?” You tilt your head back to see his smile.

“Nothing. Just wishing we could be like this forever.”

No one’s listening to you in the middle of the full on war of words being waged between Gojo and Utahime, but you rest your head back against Getou’s leg again. “Yeah. Me too.”

Nanami rolls his eyes at Shoko. While you weren’t paying attention, somehow they started fighting. “Don’t get me started on you.”

“Oh yeah? Guess all that respect for your upperclassmen is just an act. Hey, Gojo! Ask him what his cat’s name is.”

“You have a cat?” Gojo blinks.

“His parents got one a week ago!”

Nanami flushes. “Haibara!”

“What’s the cat’s name?” Getou plays along.

“None of your business.”

“Either you tell them or I will,” Shoko teases, her voice sing-song.

You take pity on poor Nanami, if he gets any redder he’ll burst into flames. Just as you open your mouth to settle the tension, Shoko shakes her head in mock pity.

“Ding! Times up. He named his cat-“ she pauses for dramatic effect. Nanami scrambles over his seat to try to get to her and slam his hand over her mouth, but she’s faster. “Gojo!”

Gojo blinks, and then he’s the one blushing. None of you expected the mortified expression on his face. “You…named your cat after me?”

“You’re flattered?” Getou says. “It’s a cat.”

“Shut up, Getou! You wish Nanami liked you enough to name his cat after you.”

“I didn’t name my cat after you!”

“I don’t need Nanami, I have a girlfriend.”

“Ooh, does little Nanami have a crush?”

“Shut up, Shoko!”

The room dissolves into chaos as it usually does when you’re all together for too long, but your wish remains the same.

Things are going so well that you really should’ve expected it. The blame is on you for not having the foresight to see it coming.

It’s supposed to be a routine mission, if more important than any they’ve taken in the past. They’re the strongest. There is no one in the world that can beat them, certainly not if they’re together. But the man with the heavenly restriction obeys no rules.

You’re the one that finds them. Utahime took you off campus for a day off. Shoko couldn’t come because she had to convince her biochemistry professor she didn’t cheat on her final (she did, but not because she needed to, just because she didn’t want to put in the effort). It was supposed to be a fun day for both of you, returning home drunk off the taste of sugar sweet cake and tea - until you saw the pool of blood near the front gates. Immediately, you knew something was wrong. Utahime rushes towards the red pool immediately, but you hold her back, scanning the area for lingering signs of the intruder.

Everything in your brain is screaming at you that this is wrong. Jujutsu high is protected by barriers - there is no one who could get in without Yaga’s permission, no one who could hurt you. Your mother had promised when she sent you here.

A chilling thought occurs - had Yaga let them in? It dissipates as soon as you think of it. Your teacher would never hurt you, would put his life on the line to defend you. He had before.

It’s not a good idea to split up, but it’s worse to stay together. You have to take your chances. Utahime goes to alert the teachers and you go to find the Getou and Gojo. At this point, you still had faith that they were alright, if not perfectly intact. They were the strongest. You had no doubt in this fact. The pool of blood could have just come from an injury, but almost nothing was fatal as long as you had Shoko.

Then, you step on a dead body. For a second, you think it’s Getou, the long black hair covering the face of the corpse, and your blood chills in your veins. You don’t think you’ll ever breathe again, but then you move the bangs, and it’s not him. It’s a girl. The relief that comes with the realization is a guilty one, but you’re grateful nonetheless. As long as he’s not dead, everything will be okay.

Even when you have his body in your lap, you believe it’ll all be okay, because it’s them. They’re the strongest. Even when you’re applying pressure to his wounds, trying to buy time for Shoko to get here, you have to believe in him. You have no other choice.

The first thing he says when he wakes up is, “I’ll kill that damned monkey,” even as you’re crying over him. He doesn’t talk again until he sets out to find Gojo, leaving you behind even though you insist on going.

You’ve fought and killed and been hurt before, all of you have. Being a sorcerer was synonymous with a life of violence. But none of you had come as close to death (or in Gojo’s case, actually died), and so your friends were divided as you had never been before. On one side, Gojo and Getou stood, having gone through a trial by fire and came out forged into something different. On the other side were the rest of you, unable to understand them, though not for lack of trying.

Utahime said it best, alone with you and Shoko in your room, the place that you had taken to become the designated spot to discuss the change in your boys. They were no longer quite human, but you loved them all the same. You couldn’t help it. Love didn’t die, even when there might be a reason for it to.

Normalcy doesn’t come for a long time. In fact, it doesn’t come ever - what you have is a very good imitation of it, but you’ll take what you can get. During the day, Gojo has somewhat returned to normal, aside from randomly falling asleep for the first week and zoning out for hours at a time. Getou’s also different. He’s quicker to enrage, slower to apologize. His eyes are dark, and sleeplessness has left a semi-permanent bruise under them. He has nightmares that he can’t escape.

You almost shriek when you hear the knock at your window, the dark outline of a figure looming outside in the darkness. Then he moves closer, into the light, and it’s no one scary after all, just Getou. You’re moving to let him in before he knocks on the window. He looks more dead than alive, and you rush to usher him into your bed, no need for words. He shows up because he knows you won’t turn him away, even if you’re fast asleep, even if you’re still working on mission reports.

He doesn’t need to ask, but does so anyway. “Can I sleep here tonight?

Under the blankets, you wrap your arms around him, squeezing like you can hold him together through physical contact and sheer force of will. His head rests against your breast bone and that’s how you can tell, even when his breathing evens out, that he’s not asleep. He doesn’t for the entire night.

This goes on for several weeks until you can’t take it anymore. “I don’t know what’s wrong and I can’t help you if you don’t tell me. You told me you were fine. Is it Riko? We can talk about it.”

He looks at you with his woeful, tired eyes (he never seems happy these days). “You wouldn’t understand.”

“God, you can be such an asshole sometimes, you know that? Do you think you’re some kind of enlightened martyr? Just spit it out!”

He just keeps watching you with his dark eyes, and you have the horrifying feeling that he’s not seeing you, not really. Like he’s looking through you.

It’s like your words are only cementing whatever dark thought has taken root in his brain.

“The monkeys,” he mutters in his sleep. “I have to get rid of them all.” You only hold him tighter, like you can keep him together through sheer force of will. But eventually, he stops coming to you at all. You can feel him slipping through your fingers, and you don’t know how to stop it. You’d ask him if he still loves you, if he still wants to be with you, but you’re scared of the answer, so you don’t.

He shrugs you off all the time now, so you didn’t expect him to call you after his mission. In the darkness, you grope around blindly for your phone. It nearly falls off the side table and hits your face before you catch it. It’s a little annoying to be woken up, but all of your anger melts away when you see the caller ID, and beneath, a picture of Getou, face frozen in surprise, his smile completely candid. It was from a trip you’d taken back in your first year.

“Oh, you’re up?” Getou’s voice crackles through the other line. The connection must be poor - he did say he was going to a village in the mountains for his next mission.

You laugh softly, still half asleep. “How are you surprised that I picked up when you called?”

“I don’t know,” he says, sounding mildly shocked himself. “I wasn’t planning to call you, it just sort of happened. Guess I’m too used to your voice at night. Sorry. It must be late.”

It’s too much to hope that he’s returning to himself, but you do so, anyways. Maybe the fresh air and countryside did him so good. Maybe all he needed was to get away for a little bit, and then he’d return. You’d never expect him to be immediately normal after what had happened, but you want to see progress, for him to recover, even if it is slow.

When you can’t hold yourself back from yawning, he laughs softly on the other end.

“You say you’re sorry, but you’re not going to let me sleep, are you?” You accuse him.

“No,” he agrees. You can almost see his smile on the other end. “It’s my last night before I head back.”

“You couldn’t wait a day?”

“You don’t want to hear from me? That’s fine, I’ll hang up.”

It’s an empty threat, but you protest anyways, spluttering out apologies that only make him laugh harder.

You’re still sleepy, but it’s nice, hearing his voice. Even when he’s miles away, the simple thought of him puts you at peace. You roll over to a more comfortable position, face pressed against your pillow, so you can hear him talk about mundane things, the low timbre of his voice familiar and comforting.

“How was your day? Miss me too much?” He’s teasing, but you’re completely honest when you answer. It’s been so long since he’s been like this.

“Way too much. You should come back as fast as possible.”

He doesn’t respond.

“Getou?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah. Sorry. Just thinking.”

He’s been apologizing a lot. Maybe it’s true what they say, that distance really does make the heart fonder. Maybe he’ll come home, and everything will be okay.

This is your first relationship. You don’t know how these things work, but you’re scared all the time that you’re messing up, that you’re a terrible girlfriend, that you’re making Getou worse.

You flinch at the sudden intrusion of unwelcome memories and try to remember the breathing exercises Shoko taught you. In through your nose, out through your mouth, don’t think about finding a pool of Gojo’s blood, a fourteen year old girl’s corpse, Getou’s mutilated body. Don’t. In through your nose, out through your mouth, breathe, breathe, breathe. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. You squeeze your eyes shut as if that will take away the images.

His voice breaks through the panic. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.” You’re both liars when you need to be. Maybe that’s why your relationship works so well.

“How was the mission?” You wish you could take it back as soon as it falls from your lips. It’s routine for any other sorcerer. For Getou, it’s a touchy question.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he snaps. He apologizes just as quickly. “Sorry. You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

It’s fine, you want to say, but nothing comes out. Instead, you say, “Getou.”

“Hm?”

“Bring me back a souvenir.”

He’s quiet for a moment. It’s a strange night, because it feels so much like he’s returning to his old self, and yet not, at the same time.

“Getou?”

“Babe, I’m in a village. You want me to bring you some grass or something?” You roll your eyes, then tell him you’re rolling your eyes when you realize he can’t see you. Somehow, you don’t think that’s what he was about to say, but you don’t push it.

“Come back soon, okay? Gojo and I are going to kill each other without you, and then you’ll have no one else to love in this miserable existence.”

“Yeah, okay. I wouldn’t let him kill my girl.”

“Hey! Maybe I’m the one killing him. Don’t underestimate me.”

To anyone else, this would sound insane, but you’re sorcerers. Death, murder, and betrayal are the norms of your life. You breathe out a sigh of relief, because everything’s okay. You shouldn’t have worried. Getou is going to be fine.

You yawn again, and that’s when he relents. His voice is soft when he tells you to go to sleep.

“Good night, babe.”

“Love you. Come home safe.”

Before you hang up, he speaks so quickly he slurs his words and has to repeat himself, more slowly. “Wait, can you not hang up yet?”

“Suguru, I have to sleep.”

“I’ll hang up when I’m done, just stay on the line a little longer.”

“You want to hear me fall asleep? Alright, weirdo. Not like you can’t come home and do it when your mission is over.”

“Just humor me.”

And so you do, drifting off with his voice in your ear, the words indistinguishable but the sound comforting. Then you wake up to Gojo throwing your sheets off and hauling you out of bed, kicking and thrashing.

“What are you doing? Is this another prank?” You’re too tired from staying up all night with Getou to deal with more of his antics.

Then you notice his appearance. Gojo doesn’t cry - perhaps it’s a side effect of his six eyes, you’re not sure if he can cry - but you’ve seen signs of panic in animals in Shoko’s textbooks. He has all the same features, the preternaturally wide eyes, the heavy breathing, the high flush in his cheekbones.

“Gojo?” You ask carefully. If he’s actually snapped from stress, you don’t want to be in the same room with him.

“Did you know? Did he say something?”

“What are you talking about?”

His face falls. He looks almost concerned for you, if Gojo had ever cared about your feelings in the past. He opens his mouth, and your world falls apart. Life after Getou murders an entire village, kidnaps two girls, and is on the run goes on as normal, if you can call it life.

This is not what you thought he meant when he said he wanted two daughters. It almost feels too normal, for things to continue when he’s gone, but the world doesn’t stop. The missions don’t stop, even when you’re sad and confused and hurt, and nothing makes sense. You throw yourself into your work, because those are straightforward. It's like a mathematical equation: fighting until you’re dead or the enemy is infinitely less confusing than dealing with the aftermath of his departure.

“I think that’s enough,” Ijichi says timidly, when you demand another mission. You glare at him, stalking towards him so you can rip the file out of his hand, but he pulls it back away from you. He looks almost surprised at the sudden nerve he has, but he stands his ground, albeit cowering.

“You need a break.”

It’s what Getou first said to you, and that’s exactly why you can’t do this right now. You need to be fighting, need to be in situations where you can’t think about anything besides how not to die. Ijichi shakes his head when you reach for the document again, and that’s when you relent.

“One more,” you plead.

This is probably karma for being so terrible to him. You’ll have to buy him a present once this mission is over.

Someone’s calling your name, but you refuse to turn around, because you know who it is. You grit your teeth and resist the urge to curse Ijichi because this probably isn’t his fault. You’ve overworked him, since he accompanies you on all your missions and you’ve been working nonstop since Getou left.

Still, a part of you is affronted. He never warned you there was a curse capable of creating hallucinations here, and you’ve hated any kind of curse that has the ability to mess with your mind ever since the incident. Still, there’s nothing to be done now, so you soldier on, ignoring the voice until the arm belonging to the owner of the voice forces you to look at them, and you promptly sock them in the face.

A curse with the nerve to show itself to you in the form of -

Your heart in your throat, tears in your eyes, you get ready to punch it again. There’s no need for knives when a good, old fashioned beat down will best relieve you of your sorrows (in the back of your mind, you hear Gojo accusing you of being a delinquent) but he raises his hand and rasps, “Stop, wait, it’s me.”

You don’t stop, if anything, you hit harder.

He cries out, “I told you once if I had kids, I would want two daughters.”

Your fist hovers in mid air, cursing your weak heart because this is a trick. Gojo killed him, and Gojo never, ever fails.

He failed Riko Amanai, you think.

There’s no way.

Getou sits up, forcing you to topple off of him before he catches you. He settles you on his long legs. You’re dazed and sad and tired of denying yourself hope, but even more tired of hoping only to have your dreams crushed.

Everything hurts. There’s pressure behind your eyes like you want to cry but the tears won’t come the way you need them to, great heaving sobs like the night Getou died, purging and cleansing. Instead, you hiccup and dry heave like a child, clutching his yukata in your fists, torn between hoping and not hoping, knowing both of them will hurt you either way.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he croons, pressing your foreheads together, and at first you want to push him away but the other part of you rebels, clinging desperately to him like he’s a ghost that will fade away without your touch. You’re disgusted with yourself but you want more. You’ve never had the discipline that Utahime has. Getou is a liar and a criminal and a traitor, and you want him all the same, your innocent, bloody villain.

“Come back home,” you whisper. “Please.” It shocks you as much as it shocks him because you didn’t think anything close to that would be the first thing out of your mouth, but you mean it. You want him to come home, to hell with the elders. You and Gojo would fight everyone and everything to keep Getou with you. It’s an impossible request, but you’re asking anyway, hoping he’ll say yes.

“The problem is you still think it’s home.”

You don’t know what else to say, because you’ve played your last card, your only card, really. Getou’s always been better with words, and you hold no hope of persuading him if he’s outright refusing. You wait patiently for him to ask you to come with him, forfeit your entire existence to murder the very people you swore to protect, and wonder if you’re going to do it. After all, you’ve surprised yourself a lot today.

He doesn’t offer. He really just wants the chance to explain himself and say goodbye. You want to bash his skull in with your knife, and you want to kiss him until he cries. You can love him, but that doesn’t change who he is - a monster who killed his own parents and an entire village.

Somehow, it was easier to accept that when he was dead. Probably because then, you had no hope of him reciprocating, so you could love and mourn him in peace, doing no harm to the dead.

This is different. This is an ethical transgression on unparalleled levels because he is a murderer, and you love him enough to not care, and it terrifies you.

The familiar sound of his gentle voice calling you sweetheart burns. “I can explain everything, I swear, but I need time. Can you give me that? Can you believe in me?” His face is so earnest and sweet, and he looks so much better than he did before he went rogue. There’s no trace of exhaustion in his face, his shoulders are strong and broad, his hair shiny. You didn’t know criminals on the run had time to hair mask.

“You didn’t kill them?” You ask, heart in your throat. You know the answer. Gojo would never agree to hurting Getou if there was a chance, however small, he hadn’t committed the crimes he had, but his simple presence here is a miracle. What’s one more?

That’s the problem, when good things happen. You get greedy.

His denial is like waking up to cold water. “No. I definitely did.”

You shove his arms off your shoulders and clamber off of him even though every cell in your body is screaming at you to go back, close your eyes, pretend this isn’t happening and just love Getou like nothing had ever gone wrong, but you refuse. You’re a jujutsu sorcerer. You’re used to doing the hard things, even when it hurts.

“You disgust me,” you snarl, and you get ready to -

To what? Are you going to kill him? Bring him in? That would be the same as sentencing him to death, too.

In the middle of your deliberation, Getou suddenly clutches at his head like it’s being split open. You’re not sure what’s going on, if this is just another manipulation tactic of his to have you rushing back to him in forgiveness, but that’s when you notice the long gash in his head, stitched closed.

“Run.” He says. He grabs your sleeves and hauls you down so you can look into his eyes. “Run! You have to go, he’s coming, he- Ugh.” He slumps over, breathing hard and fast, hand still scratching at the barely healed over stitches.

You’re confused and scared and lost, and you obey, running through the forest like the devil himself was on your heels. You don’t think, just flee, all the way back to your car. When you get back to campus, you’re determined not to tell anyone. It was a hallucination, a cruel trick your beleaguered mind played on you, aided by the technique of curses. Later that day, you come back to finish the curse off, and Getou’s gone. It’s what you expected, and yet, some part of you is disappointed. Your resolve hardens to steel.

You can’t tell anyone about this. The greater part of you thinks it a hallucination not worth telling. If the elders found out, they’d probably throw you in the mental ward like they did with all “hysterical” women, and good riddance. They’d be glad to wash their hands of you, a sorcerer too weak to be helpful to them.

The other, quieter part of you fears that if he’s real, if somehow, you’ve really been granted a second chance - then he’ll die again. Turning him in is a death sentence. You just have to hope that if it wasn’t an illusion - and you have hope, you always do, even when it’s idiotic - he’s smart enough to stay away, to leave the jujutsu world behind for good. You swallow hard.

Even if it means leaving you behind.

For a while, everything is fine, or as fine as it can be, given the circumstances. Getou’s a curse user now, and you’ll never see him again, but you can live with that as long as he survives. You don’t think he’s dumb enough to show his face in the jujutsu world again. Secretly, you hope that he escaped and is living somewhere in paradise with the little girls he rescued, in a nice, warm cottage with strawberry plants in the garden and a fluffy white cat. You’re starting to believe that he made it, that he’s off living it up with his little found family, because you’re naive, and no matter how many times your miserable existence tries to beat it out of you, hope insists on making a fool out of you. You can’t stop, even when you know it’s futile for any sorcerer to imagine anything besides the worst case scenario in any situation. Bad things happening is the way of life, good things is a stroke of luck, a momentary reprieve before nature resumes its course. You even dare to think that he’s lucky, because he escaped the hell that is the jujutsu world.

Life is never that kind to sorcerers - even ex-sorcerers, though, in this case, one could say Getou brought it on himself, attacking the entirety of the jujutsu world in such a way. When Gojo Satoru kills your boyfriend, at least the kids aren’t around to see you lose it (because Getou injured them so badly they’re all hanging out in the morgue with Shoko). You’re torn between grief and rage, because you know he deserves it. You still can’t reconcile the image of him in your head, sweet, kind, Getou, who would always go easy on you, with the man that nearly murdered your students. But you also can’t stop blaming Gojo.

Jujutsu sorcerers aren’t supposed to have regrets, but it’s hard, looking back, not to feel sorry for attempting to murder Gojo Satoru the day he came home from killing your boyfriend. It wasn’t his fault, after all, even if it had felt like it at the time.

No one told you what Gojo’s last mission was because of your relationship with Getou, but as soon as Gojo walked back onto campus, his white hair matted with blood that wasn’t his and his shirt stained with sprays of red, you just knew. You had been running to greet him because attempting to jump Gojo whenever he came back from a mission was an age old tradition, born of him always being first in class and power rankings, and you, forever trying to claw your way to the top, even in the face of his overwhelming natural talent. Of course, back then, it had been a friendly conflict, your way of welcoming him back and his way of indulging you.

This was much less friendly and much more of homicidal intent.

It takes Utahime and Shoko combined to drag you off of him, though you aren’t doing any damage. Gojo, as always, is untouchable. He doesn’t let down his Infinity, but he doesn’t try to erase your existence for daring to lay a hand on him either, which is as close as you’re getting to mercy from him.

If you had been just drifting through life when you thought Getou had abandoned you, in the wake of his death, you’re burning out. For a while after his death, you think you’re just waiting for the same thing to happen to you. You throw yourself into battle after battle, accept whatever missions are given to you and collect scars on your battered body. You’re not going to kill yourself, but you’re not going to fight it either. It turns out, passive suicidal tendencies - surprise! - still count as suicidal tendencies, according to Shoko.

Waiting for death, you find, is unexpectedly hard. Your body wants to fight. It doesn’t want to give up, every survival instinct pulling you out of danger, pushing your lungs to take in more air, keep fighting even when you’re dead tired. It fights hard for itself even when you don’t care, all too willing to just accept whatever happens to you. Every day, Shoko fixes you up, scolds you, and sends you on your way, and every day, you repeat the same process that lands you in her morgue, until one day, it’ll happen for real.

Nanami intervenes before that happens, because he’s a good man. Good men are rare in sorcery. You thought Getou was one, but clearly not, demonstrated by the full blown murder spree he’s gone on. You’ve always held a soft spot for your junior. He corners you in the hallway after your last narrow brush with death, the exorcism of a special grade curse that was particularly nasty. You might have earned a promotion with that one. It was a hard fight. You don’t think you’ll survive the next, and that’s precisely why Nanami invites you to dinner.

He’s a good cook, but he’s not Getou. He doesn’t remember all of your allergies and dislikes, and you end up picking all the mushrooms out of your dinner. Everything reminds you of Getou. You choke on your bitter laughter, and Nanami is polite enough not to say a word about it.

“When Haibara died,” he begins, the pause in his speech between Haibara and died making it very, very clear that this is difficult for him to talk about, “I thought it was the end for me too.”

He shakes his head when you frantically attempt to shush him. You don’t want him opening old wounds for your sake, but he ignores you. “Someone you love is gone. The existence of the world feels disgusting to you.” He says love, not loved. You should’ve known Nanami would understand. He always does.

“At first, everything is hateful to you. The sun, for daring to rise. Birds, for their annoying song. Gojo, for being Gojo.” He pauses. “The last part is normal, but the rest of the world feels intolerable now. It’s as if they took you to the grave with them.”

Nanami’s inscrutable eyes make you uncomfortable. Technically, Gojo has the Six Eyes, but right now, Nanami feels like the all seeing one. Casually, he reaches over and pulls your plate to him, cutting up the meat for you. Your throat closes up with unshed tears, though that might also be the anaphylactic shock from the mushrooms. Getou used to do that for you, too. He never let you cut your own food.

Nanami finishes dicing your steak into perfectly bite sized pieces, and throws the knife at you, in a perfect, straight line at your shoulder. You knock it out of the way.

“What the fuck?” You’re already looking around for assassins, maybe curse users with mind or body control techniques, but Nanami doesn’t make another attempt to hurt you.

“What did you learn from that?”

“That you’re spending too much time with Gojo. Have you gone insane?”

He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. You think he’d make a great teacher, since he already has the aggrieved expression down pat when something is clear to him, but confusing to everyone else. He’d be better than Gojo, that’s for sure, if he didn’t fling knives at all his students.

“The lesson was supposed to be that you’re alive, and you want to stay alive, even if you don’t realize it right now.”

“No way.” You could be less rude to him, considering how he’s going out of his way to help you out, but he’s also practicing circus tricks on you, so you don’t feel inclined to politeness at the moment. “I would’ve never known if you didn’t show me. Quick, can you check my pulse?”

He looks unperturbed. “It means,” he says patiently, “no matter how much it feels like you already have one foot in the grave with them, you’re still alive. Don’t be so quick to throw yourself away. We’re all bound to die eventually, in this career. You don’t have life to waste.”

Nanami is a terrible therapist, but a good friend. He says, “Now finish your dinner and stop trying to kill yourself.”

“There we go. You could’ve just said that at the beginning.”

“It wouldn’t have made as much as an impact,” you’re tempted to tell him throwing knives at you didn’t make much of an impact either, but wisely keep your mouth shut. “Besides, you got free dinner out of it. Stop complaining.”

When eventually, Nanami leaves too, for a normal life, nothing stops you from throwing yourself into your work.

The second time you lose yourself, it’s so much worse. This marks the twelfth time Shoko has basically rescued you from the clutches of death in the morgue. Gojo’s the strongest sorcerer, but in your opinion, Shoko’s closer to being the most powerful. That might also be your favoritism talking. She grabs your arm as you get up to leave. “Stop dying.”

You’re a really terrible person for making all of your friends repeat this talk with you. “Not dead yet.”

“Stop trying to die,” she amends. “You’re making more work for me and I don’t like it.”

You roll your eyes. Of course she was worried about the extra effort it took to keep you alive. If Getou was here-

The thought registers like a blow to the chest. If Getou was here, this wouldn’t be happening at all. Shoko grips your arm hard enough to bruise. “I’m serious. I’m not going to let you die, so stop trying. It’s not going to work and it just makes my job harder.” Her face is grim.

“I’m not going to let you die,” she repeats, like she can keep you in this world through willpower alone. You feel guilty, all of a sudden, for what a terrible patient you are, and how snappish you’ve been with her. Hurting doesn’t mean you have the right to take it out on your friends, but remembering that only comes after the guilt, and the guilt only comes after the self sabotage.

Speaking of self sabotage, the last time you saw Gojo, you attempted aggravated assault on his person, but when the news came down that he’s been captured (the first time you hear it, you’re disbelieving) you’re the first to volunteer to go to Shibuya. You can’t lose anyone else.

You didn’t expect to gain someone back, but when you get there, the person on the other side of the battlefield is Getou, and suddenly, you know how Gojo, invincible, omniscient Gojo, could’ve gotten captured. Love is the worst curse of all.

Ignoring all sense, ignoring the fact that he’s captured Gojo - you hadn’t believed he was capable of hurting him, even now. You hurtle across the battlefield to him, past Itadori Yuuji and - was that a cursed womb? It didn’t matter. You only had eyes for Getou, but when you get closer, your heart sinks.

Even just listening to his voice, you know it isn’t him. It’s like the air has been knocked out of you - there’s no point in fighting, not anymore. You crumple to your knees. That’s not Getou. That thing is using your Getou’s mouth to murder your friends and bring about the end of the world. Distantly, you hear Yuki Tsukumo’s arrival, feel her try to haul you to your feet, but you can’t move on your own. The thought rings through your head. Getou is gone.

Kenjaku is reveling in his victory while Yuki tries to keep him at bay. She’s strong, she has to be, she’s a special grade, but she’s no Gojo Satoru and you’re dead weight. She can’t protect everyone. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Itadori Yuuji doing his best to dodge attacks. He’s a child. You have to fight, but there’s an emptiness inside of you that’s sapping your strength. Still, you muster up enough to reach for the dagger hidden in your coat, a gift from Maki Zenin, one of your favorite students.

The air stills. The relentless cacophony of the battlefield comes to a stop as the hairs on your arm stand up. Directly across from you, one of Kenjaku’s hands reaches up to grip his own throat. Getou Suguru says, “Give me back my body.”

Kenjaku coughs. “Ugh. Just a little voice in my head. As I was saying -“

The hand around his throat tightens. “I’m Getou Suguru. This is my body.”

Kenjaku frowns. “You have no claim to this body anymore. You’d be dead without me. Just go back to sleep.”

More insistently, Getou’s presence fights to the surface. “How are you doing this?” Kenjaku marvels. His eyes widen and he lifts his hand to stare at the object he’s clutching, the Prison Realm.

You should never count Gojo Satoru out.

Suguru Getou doesn’t exist anymore. He’s just a figment of Kenjaku’s imagination, clinging to life - if this can be called life - confined to the dark and murky corners of his own mind.

Go to sleep, Kenjaku says, almost fondly. They’ve been stuck together here for a long time now, long enough that Kenjaku has given up trying to get rid of him and instead just suppressed his presence.

He’s so tired. Kenjaku’s right. It might be a good idea to go to sleep and yet - there’s something he’s forgetting, isn’t he? What is it? He doesn’t like thinking. It splits his head apart - is it his head or Kenjaku’s, he’s never sure who it belongs to - punishes him with endless pain. It’s better, easier, to just let Kenjaku handle things.

That’s right, Kenjaku says. This is my body now. All you have to do is go to sleep. Aren’t I merciful?

But he remembers something, a flash of blue in the darkness. The voice of his best friend - he had a best friend? He keeps remembering things that don’t belong to him, scattered memories that might be hallucinations but -

He couldn’t have imagined the earnestness, the pain in that man’s voice. He doesn’t know him, but his heart aches for him.

Getou Suguru, a silky voice sighs. He flinched because he hasn’t heard a voice beside Kenjaku’s in years, no, since he was born. They had always been like this, Kenjaku and him. Hadn’t they?

Who is this? He’s panicking.

Are you really going to let him use you like that? We’re the strongest. You better start acting like it.

Then his body crumples in on itself, pain sparking through every nerve from the impact of so much cursed energy. Kenjaku curses. “Fucking Gojo Satoru.”

Kenjaku? Getou thinks.

Hm? Nothing, don’t worry about it. I thought I told you to go to sleep.

Getou flinches away from the hard edge in his voice but something in him doesn’t forget Gojo Satoru. He turns the name over in his head, wondering. The cursed energy hurts, it burns, but it’s lifting the fog in his head.

Gojo Satoru is his best friend and you -

You’re standing in front of him, eyes wide and wary, as beautiful as the last time he saw you. His girl, his sweetheart. You’re driving a knife through his ribs and he clutches your hand, helps you angle it up directly through his heart. It’s sweet, almost like you’re back in school again, him training you after hours because he couldn’t tell you he was in love with you then, but all he wanted was to be around you, all the time.

It’s nice, the way you wrap your arms around him when the deed is done, the pressure of your chest against his driving the blade deeper. It’s not such a bad way to go.

You’re crying, he realizes, the back of his clothes are wet.

He wishes he could talk to you before he has to go, but his mouth is filled with blood. With his one hand, he undoes the binding on the Prison Realm - his best friend, of course he remembers him, Gojo Satoru - and with the other, he squeezes yours.

Don’t cry, he thinks mournfully. I promised. I’ll come crawling home to you.

He dies in your arms, the only place he has ever wanted to be.

You hold him as he dies, just like you did the first time, though you had been too late then. He dies with a smile on his lips, as Getou, not Kenjaku. You don’t feel the tears as they come. You don’t feel anything at all, not even when Utahime comes forward from the crowd of stunned sorcerers to wrap her arms around you, not even when Gojo, bleeding from his side, pulls you into his embrace.

Nothing can get to you until you speak to Yaga, and he curses you with the worst gift of all: hope.

“You’re a war hero,” Yaga says.

You don’t have to say it aloud for him to know what you’re thinking. You’d rather be nothing and still have Getou.

Yaga’s never been much of a hugger, but he startles you with one now. “My poor girl. You’ve been so brave,” he says. “I didn’t try this before because we didn’t think there was any hope left. We didn’t know if his soul was still there, but if you’re willing to let me try now, I’ll do my best.”

There’s a low chance of this working. You’re so tired, and Getou is too. You’re almost tempted to just let him be at peace, but Yaga lays his hand on your shoulder.

“Do you remember what he said when I questioned your relationship? I’d love her from beyond the grave. Don’t give up on him now.”

Gojo takes your hand as you watch Yaga work, the two of you the ones that loved Getou best, even at his worst. “Don’t give up,” he echoes. You squeeze his hand back. You had hope for eleven, long, hard years. You’re willing to hold on a little longer, if he’s willing to try too.

On the table in Shoko’s morgue, his body stirs.

title from work song — hozier. also recommend home with you — fka twigs for the vibe.

#sera writes #getou suguru x reader #geto suguru x reader #getou suguru x y/n #geto suguru x y/n #getou suguru x you #geto suguru x you #geto x y/n #getou x y/n #geto x reader #getou x reader #getou angst #geto x you #geto angst #jjk spoilers #possibly i have no idea how caught up to the manga the anime is #getou suguru #♡ — jjk

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lucy90712 · 2 years

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Labour and delivery- Dream (pregnancy series)

Any day now the baby could come which has been playing with my mind I'm constantly worried about whether my water will break when we are out somewhere and every pain I feel makes me think it's contractions even though it definitely isn't. I have also been super nervous to actually give birth it hadn't hit me until it could be any day that this baby has to come out of me and it could tear things down there which sounds incredibly uncomfortable and scary.

Clay has been trying his best to keep me calm and be supportive but of course its hard for him because there isn't a lot he can help with or understand fully. The both of us have been trying to prepare as much as we can by getting the hospital bag ready and checking it a million times as well as making sure everything in the house is baby safe and clean by the end of each day and in between all that sleeping as much as possible because we won't get that once shes here. No matter how much we sleep now I know we will be exhausted but at least we are enjoying it while we still have the time well I hope Clay is because I struggle to get much sleep being so pregnant but I've been trying.

I woke up really early this morning which is quite usual for me but I woke earlier than normal just so incredibly uncomfortable with aches and pains which were feeling worse than usual. I have been told that this sort of pain is a sign that labour is coming or even started but I have been feeling this pain for weeks and nothing has happened so I'm not holding out much hope. My due date is in 4 days but my doctor wasn't sure I would make it to that date making it all just a guessing game.

Sitting in bed for a while made no difference to the pain so I got up with a struggle because thats just how it is at this point to try and walk round the house for a bit which normally helps ease the aches a little bit. I walked round the house putting away little bits but it didn't seem to help even a little bit, today is going to be a long day if this continues. Clay woke up and came to find me while I was sitting on the yoga ball we have because it was meant to help with things. I looked at him all sad and he came over to kiss my forehead with sympathy laced on his face.

"You doing ok love?" He asked

"Not really everything aches and it won't go away like it usually does" I said

"Do you think this might be early signs of labour" he asked

"At this point I sure hope so I want this baby out of me" I said

He told me to get up and get in the car because driving over bumpy surfaces usually induces labour so thats what we are doing. There is a street near us that is really bumpy so thats where we are going, the bumps are uncomfortable but if they help then I'm more than up for it. While driving Clay put his hand on my leg rubbing his thumb over my thigh to keep me comfortable and for reassurance.

We got home and I went back to sitting down too uncomfortable to do anything else. I got up a few hours later to go to the bathroom and felt water rushing down my legs for a second I thought I peed myself but soon a sharp pain went though my body focussed on my stomach and I knew that it was my waters breaking.

"Clay it's happening" I said

In that instant he knew what I meant and started freaking out not knowing what to do which I knew would happen because he would be so excited. I calmed him down and we went over the plan we had made again to help bring him back to reality. We need to be timing my contractions to know when they start getting close together so we can go to the hospital. My contractions are pretty painful right now so I'm not excited for them to get worse but I am excited to finally get to hold the baby.

After all this time growing her in my stomach I finally get to hold her in my arms and cherish her with every fibre in my being. I get to finally be a parent and experience all the things that others have like witnessing her first smile and laugh, saying her first word and steps oh it's going to be the best. Plus I get to watch Clay be the great dad that I know he will be, it's going to be tough for sure but I'm so excited to start this new phase of life.

Things started progressing very quickly and my contractions were getting closer and closer together which made me very scared that we wouldn't make it to the hospital in time and I would have to deliver the baby in the car which I don't want to do. I told Clay that we have to leave straight away or else we won't make it in time so he rushed around to get everything we needed in the car while I waddled there too very slowly because that's how it's been the last few weeks. Clay drove with as much speed as realistically he could and we all know he's not adverse to driving quickly but I was not willing to get pulled over so I made him be sensible but just go a little over the speed limit. This time in the car Clay still had his hand on my thigh but this time it was just resting there and holding onto my hand so that I could squeeze it when I felt a contraction, although there isn't much he can do to help it was nice to know he was there and knew each time I was going though huge amounts of pain.

By the time we made it to the hospital my contractions were consistently 5 minutes apart or a bit less and lasted mostly over a minute, which means that I am fully in labour and honestly the baby could come any minute. we went into the hospital and they rushed me into a room and got doctors there right away, it was very overwhelming when all these people came in all of a sudden giving me all sorts of instructions which didn't sink in at all.

Eventually everything calmed down in terms of movement of people but now it was time to push because I was fully dilated. Clay was stood right next to me excitement in his eyes as well as concern, he was doing all he could to make me feel better which wasn't much but anything I asked he did for me. The nurses and doctors gave me instructions to follow which were pretty simple so I did what they said and started pushing when I felt my next contraction.

In my head this was going to be the hard part because I didn't know how I was meant to push but weirdly my body just took over and it wasn't too hard of course it hurt but I was doing it. All of it actually went by easier than I thought and before I knew it the nurse was saying that I would only have to push one more time and she would be here. I did exactly that and heard the sound of small cries coming from our baby girl which meant that she was ok.

The nurse gave her to me so I held her to my chest as she wailed but I didn't mind because she was in my arms and was just perfect, everything about her was just perfect. Clay leant down to kiss my forehead and look at her for himself, I watched him take in her face as she cried a bit less and his eyes filled with adoration for his daughter. She was taken from us to be weighed and stuff and Clay got to cut the umbilical cord which made him happy.

As some nurses were busy with the baby others were making sure I was alright and they were surprised how quickly my labour and delivery went especially seeing as this is my first baby and it doesn't normally go this quickly. We were given back the baby and were left to bond with her for a while before we take her home and are completely thrown into parenthood head first.

#dream x reader #dream #dreamwastaken #dreamwastaken x reader #mcyt x reader #dsmp x reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

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let me be your ruler.5

Warnings: guns, dubcon, noncon, fingering, treats.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Pairing: (dark!mob!) Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: You find more to worry about than just Peter.

Note: We get the long awaited update for mob Peter and I hope you like this twisted little chapter! Tomorrow Zemo and Wednesday the finale of Birch!Loki. I’ll try to keep up with Zemo and go back to an old series and try to pick away more at finish WIPs.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Masterlist

Peter’s intensity did not let up. If anything, he grew more insistent and more suffocating. After the pool, there was the bed, then the shower, then another romp that kept you from logging into your work email. You were sore and drained by the time you laid down, too exhausted to try to wriggle away from him as he joined you and kept his arm over you as you drifted off.

You woke to him drinking coffee and looking out at the lush property. He wore only a pair of short boxers, his muscles lined perfectly along his bent arm and firm stomach. You let out a soft breath and rolled onto your back.

Your thighs brushed together and made you squirm. You thought once he had his fun, he might let up. You could not predict this man in anything.

“You want a coffee?” he asked as he turned away from the windows, “I’ll send for one. Latte? Mocha?”

“Mmmph,” you grumbled and sat up carefully.

Those cocktails went down too easy and added to the weight in your head and limbs. The alcohol made him bearable, made your new reality palatable. You were naked still. You held the sheet to your chest and he went to the dresser and pulled out the drawer with his free hand. He dangled the long camisole gown before you as he neared.

“I hate to cover such a pretty woman up but I think we’ve exposed my staff to enough of our fun,” he held the thin straps over a single finger.

You reached for it and he drew it just away from your grasp. He bent and his dark eyes clung to yours, “not a good morning kiss?” he taunted.

You leaned forward and pecked his lips. He purred and stood, draping the silk over your lap.

“So, coffee?” he asked again.

“With just a little milk,” you answered as you pulled on the nightgown and turned your legs over the edge of the bed. Every part of you was stiff, “thank you.”

“You’re learning, princess,” he praised, “such sweet manners.”

You stood and crossed your arms. He chuckled and nudged your chin with his knuckle playfully. He pulled on a robe and knotted it loosely around his body. He went to the door and hit the button right beside the frame. A knock came shortly and he handed over his empty mug and requested one for you.

“I was thinking, we’d extend our stay a while,” he said as he turned back to the room, “I need a break from the city… but if you’re good, I’ll let you invite your friends. They’re nice girls.”

“Is that a suggestion or an order?” you asked dully.

“Both,” he smirked at you as he came closer and wrapped his arms around you, “you’re starting to get it, princess.”

You searched his face and held back a sigh. His brown eyes were smokey as his hands slipped down to your ass.

“I’ll need them around to distract my guests,” he purred.

“Guests?” you turned your arms and planted them firmly against his chest as he bent to kiss your neck. He ignored you easily as he swayed you with him.

“I was woken up early by a call,” he spoke against your skin, his lips sending shivers through you, “we got today and tomorrow, then those two goons will be joining us. I can get away but…” he raised his head and ran his hands up your sides and along your arms, pulled them over his shoulders, “business is business… we can still fit in a little play.”

You stiffened and swallowed. Your brows furrowed and you slanted your lips as you looked past him.

“You mean Bucky?”

“And Steve,” he filled in, “you don’t get one without the other.”

“I thought you guys were all… sorted out,” you said quietly.

“Ah, princess, you don’t know the half of it,” he cooed, “let’s keep it that way. Better for everyone.”

You nodded. He was right, you knew whatever he did was unsavoury and you didn’t need the details. You knew what he was capable of. A flash of fear went through you as you recalled the barrel of his gun pointed at you.

“I don’t wanna do that again, princess,” he uttered as if he could read your mind, “so… let’s not. Give the girls a call.”

A tap came at the door and he parted. He opened it and took the mug from the servant and brought it to you. You took it as the scent promised to fend off the ache behind your eye. You sat in one of the upholstered chairs and took a cautious sip. He watched you with a grin and bit his lip.

“Better finish that fast,” he warned, “coffee stains don’t come easy.”

You eyed him as he pushed open his robe and you saw the bulge twitch in his boxers. You kept your face placid, not wanting to provoke him. What exactly were you holding onto? He already had your whole life in the palm of his hand.

✨

Halle was more than overjoyed to accept your invitation but Molly passed as she wanted to hang out with Charlie. Desiree said it would be good for her as her co-worker turned out to be a total waste of time.

You hated that you were doing this to your own friends; using them as bait. Peter made it clear that they were welcome only on the condition that they could be an ends to his means. ‘Tell them to bring bikinis’, he insisted before you made the call.

Your second morning at the beach house was just as heavy as the first. The day before was filled with Peter’s incessant touching and another dip in the pool that ended in his delight. The staff was set to cleaning the pool once more in preparation of the guests. You were embarrassed as the servers, cleaners, and chef were all too aware of your activities.

Peter left you after a quick shower and you were thankful for the chance to wash on your own. He pecked your lips as he held his phone to his ear and squeezed your ass before he went.

You stood beneath the steamy stream of the faucet and melted beneath it. You came out slightly refreshed and wrapped yourself in a plush towel.

You went into the bedroom and sorted through the second drawer as you searched for something more comfortable than showy. There wasn’t much you could categorize as practical. You heard the door creak and didn’t look up as droplets cooled on your arms and you pulled a yellow sun dress out of the closet instead.

“That’s a good colour for you,” the voice made you freeze and you glanced over at the open door.

You assumed it was Peter or the wind, but the man who filled the doorframe with his thick shoulders, made your chest tight. Bucky stood with his arm against the wood as he leaned nonchalantly and leered at you.

“Wh-when did you get here?” you stuttered as you held your towel tight and shielded yourself with the dress.

“Just a couple minutes ago,” he smiled, “I was just looking for the bathroom but…” he tilted his head as his voice trailed off and his eyes ventured down your body, “...think I found something better.”

“Get out,” you hissed, “or I’ll shout.”

“Why? I’m not doing anything… just watching,” his lips curled lasciviously, “and you are fun to watch.”

“What-- I said, get out, Bucky,” you snarled as you stomped over to him.

You pushed on his thick arm, the muscle firm as it peeked out from beneath his short-sleeve button-up. He didn’t budge as he loomed over you.

“Your man likes to treat me like some errand boy. Sent me off to keep an eye on you. Boring, at first, all those months following you around to cafes and grocery stores,” he reached out and cradled your chin. You tried to pull away but he gripped your jaw firmly and held you in place, “but those things you do when you think you’re all alone… I was tempted to lend a hand but… business.”

“Don’t fucking touch me,” you grabbed his wrist and wrenched it away, “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about--”

“That little pink dildo, well, not very little is it?” he licked his bottom lip, “I thought he would’ve told you. He’s a careful man. He plans ahead. I respect that, at least.”

“Go!” you shoved him in mortification, “or I’ll scream right now and you know Peter won’t be happy--”

“Calm down, little girl,” he scoffed, “don’t get so worked up. I’m not that stupid…” he squared his jaw and raised a brow wryly, “but he will get careless and I’ll still be watching.”

He winked and turned away slowly. You quickly closed the door as he retreated down the hallway and you locked it with a shaky hand. You staggered back blindly and sat heavily on the cushioned bench at the foot of the bed.

How long had Bucky been hounding you? How long had Peter had his eye on you? Your heart raced at the realisation of how deep in you truly were. You could deal with one, but two? You were well and truly fucked.

✨

You tried to hide in the bedroom until your friend arrived but Peter dragged you out to welcome his guests over breakfast by the pool. You sat quietly and picked at the fruit plate until they excused themselves for more business. You were grateful as you didn’t miss Bucky’s fleeting looks.

Halle and Desiree arrived just after noon. The men were locked away in the parlor so you greeted them as they approached the walk, beach bags on their arms and rolling suitcases bouncing up the stones.

“Oh my god, girl,” Halle chirped, “he sent a car and everything.”

“Thank god, my old piece of shit wouldn’t have made it this far,” Desiree added, “oh, you look so good. I love that dress.”

“Thanks,” you sniffed, “um, I hope you guys don’t mind staying on the second floor. Peter’s staff just got the rooms ready--”

“Staff?” Halle swooned, “you hooked in a real sugar daddy.”

“No, I-- Halle,” you sneered, “it’s not--”

“I’m teasing,” she giggled, “but come on, look at this place.”

“Mm, well there is another hitch,” you said as you led them inside.

Two staff members approached and offered to take their bags. They gave you silent looks of amazement as they handed over their luggage and you rolled your eyes.

“So, what’s the hitch? Don’t tell me the pools out of order,” Desiree whined.

“No, pool’s just been cleaned, but… we have company,” you said tritely, “couple of Peter’s… friends. I’m sure they won’t bother you but--”

“Are they hot?” Halle asked.

“Are you serious?” you blinked.

“I’m so serious. I need to get laid. Bad.”

“And a stranger is the best choice for that?” you scoffed.

“If he’s cute,” she shrugged.

“It’s an important question,” Desiree seconded, “I can’t keep dating boys. You won’t believe what this asshole did.”

“I dunno,” you waved off the question, “how about I show you around first and then we can get to all that later.”

“Ooo, yes,” Halle clapped, “this place is huge.”

“Alright, well, we can’t go in the parlour right now but you won’t really be in there anyway,” you ushered them forward, “the pool’s just through here…”

✨

When at last the girls were settled in, you waited by the pool as they went to change into their suits. You requested some drinks from the staff and thanked them profusely as you felt entirely out of place asking anything of them. The fruity margaritas were left on the round table as you sat in the middle of a lounger.

“Uh, this place is gorgeous,” Halle declared as she came through the sliding doors, “oh my god, are those for us?”

You nodded as she swiped up a drink and sipped noisily from the straw. Desiree took her own but side-eyed Halle, “It’s barely one o’clock, slow down,” she chirped.

“It’s a vacation! Sort of. I had to use sick time for this so no Insta please,” Halle sang, “I can’t wait to get in.”

She set down her glass and strode over to the pool. She slid out of her sandals and dipped her toes in. She surprised you as suddenly she dove in and sent up a splash of water. Desiree giggled as she swallowed her mouthful and placed her drink beside Halle’s and raced over to join her.

You dragged yourself to your feet and sat at the side of the pool with only your legs in the water.

“Come on, don’t be such a party pooper,” Desiree splashed you.

“I’m not, I’m just… all pooled out right now,” you shrugged, “you guys have fun, I’m just happy to have you here.”

It wasn’t a lie. In those last two days when it was just you and Peter, you felt so completely isolated. Even if they were there to act as diversions, you were reassured to have a glimpse of your former life.

“You ladies look like you’re having fun,” Peter’s voice startled you and you looked over your shoulder as he emerged from the house, “drinking already?” He was dressed in his trunks already, “I hope you don’t mind, the guys were hoping to hop in too.”

“The guys,” Halle giggled.

“I told them we had company,” you assured Peter, “and uh, you know Halle, but this is Desiree.”

“A pleasure,” he said as he neared and sat beside you, “why aren’t you in there with them?”

“I will get in, I’m just… enjoying the sun.”

He hummed and put his hand over yours on the rim of the pool, “you okay?” he lowered his voice.

You squinted at him and nodded. He didn’t really care if you weren’t okay. He was only telling you to start acting like it.

You heard the others before they appeared. Peter introduced them as they came out and the girls were all too happy to have them sink into the pool with them. Peter nudged you and you slipped over the edge and he quickly followed. He caught you as you broke the surface and held you to him.

“They’re getting along,” he intoned.

“I still don’t get it,” you pressed against his chest as he waded you over to the other side of the pool, “why do you need them?”

“Part of the deal,” he said, “they want some fun too.”

“What? You mean--”

“The girls seem willing. They’re pretty enough and I wouldn’t say Bucky or Steve are hideous,” Peter chuckled, “it works for everyone.”

“You’re whoring out my friends for a deal?” you spat.

“Now, princess, watch it,” he curled his lip, “I’ve been patient, haven’t I?” he leaned into you and squished you between him and the wall of the pool, “if I was a worse man, I’d just let them have a taste of you… but you’re mine,” he kissed you roughly and drew back, “and so long as you are, you will only be mine. Understood?”

You swallowed and nodded. He relaxed and kept his arm around you as he came parallel to the pool wall and floated beside you. Steve and Desiree were chattering as she came back to the pool with her drink and Halle gabbed on at Bucky but his eyes weren’t on her. He smirked as he watched you and slowly dropped his gaze to your roommate.

“Maybe Bucky will chill out a little,” Peter grumbled as he pushed himself away from the side of the pool.

“Mm, maybe,” you let him pull you with him as he waded around the middle of the pool.

“Don’t worry so much,” he chided.

“How can I not? I hardly know these men and these are my friends, Peter,” you hissed, “I should’ve known.”

“And if you had, you still would have done what I said, princess,” he snipped, “why are you doing this? Everyone’s having fun so join the party.”

You thinned your lips and forced a smile. His eyes narrowed and he latched onto your arm. He pulled you with him to the large round steps along the far corner and you tried not to slip as you climbed out of the water. The others were too distracted to notice and as you glanced back, you found Desiree with her tongue down Steve’s throat.

“You don’t wanna have fun with them,” Peter dragged you into the house, “then we can have some of our own.”

“Not right now, Peter, please--”

“Listen, princess,” he spun and pulled you to him, “you’re not getting this. I’ve been nice. I bring you to my nice house, I send a car for your friends, I get you off… you need to start using that head instead of your mouth…” he eyed your lips, “well, the mouth is good for some things.”

You quivered in disgust and he turned as he forced you further down the hallway. He flung you through the bedroom door and you barely caught yourself on a chair. The door slammed as your damp feet slipped on the floor and you stood to face him.

“I’ve done you all these favours so you can do me one,” he hooked his thumbs in his shorts and pulled them down over the protrusion of his arousal.

You glanced away and he closed the distance between you. He grabbed your chin and made you look at him. He kissed you roughly and shoved you away. He stormed over to the bed and flopped down, his cock bobbing as he moved to recline against the pillows and exhaled loudly.

“Well…” he said.

You stared at him and the bitterness laced your muscles. You huffed and walked to the bed slowly. He stroked himself tauntingly as he smirked at you. You put a knee on the bed and braced yourself. There was a moment you were ready to run and not look back, but your friends were in his pool and the vision of his pistol pulsed in your head.

You climbed up and crawled to him. You sat back on your heels, just between his legs and he tutted, “now, princess, don’t give me that look.”

You wiped the anger from your face and closed your eyes. You grasped his dick and his hand fell away. You moved your hand up then down and tamped down your reservations. You bent over him and your lashes fluttered as your lips pressed to his tip. He gasped at the soft sensation and you stretched your lips around him.

He groaned and put his hand on your shoulder as he urged you down. He met the back of your throat and you eased back, wetting his length to ease the tension in your jaw. He gripped the back of your head impatiently and you strained to let him further as he invaded your throat. You gagged and he let you back only for a moment before he forced you back down.

You followed his motion, fast and deep, until the spit dripped down him and across your face. You clung to his thigh as you breathed with each retreat only to be smothered again. Your throat burned as your jaw ached as you kept your tongue firm to his length. The sloppy sucking mingled with his lusty moans and he held your head between both hands as he thrust from below.

He stopped you suddenly. Your head spun as he lifted you off of him and sat up to kiss you messily. He pushed you over as he got to his knees. You fell back and bounced on the bed as he parted your legs, bending on over his as he moved to straddle the other. You laid at an angle as his hand slid up your stomach to your neck.

He squeezed lightly as he pulled aside the crotch of your suit and angled his dick against your cunt. You moaned as he filled you and pressed his thumb to your clit. He kept his hand at your throat as he held you down and jerked his hips sharply. He jolted your body with each decisive thrust as he watched your face.

“You like sucking my dick, princess? Makes you so wet, huh?” he growled.

You grabbed his hand but he only gripped your throat more firmly. He bit down as he sped up, the mattress shaking beneath you with each tilt of his hips. He rammed into you hard and harder, your leg stretched up his torso as he kept astride your other.

He teased and toyed with your clit as he fucked you. You choked out raspy moans as the coil wound tight inside of you and your muscles knotted around him. Your eyes rolled back as you slapped at his bicep and clawed deep into his flesh as you came. You squirmed in your orgasm and he sped up.

He pulled his hand from your throat to hold your leg to his body. He kept playing with your bud as you groped your chest senselessly and your voice rose unrestrained around you. His deep grunt punctuated each airy cry from your lips and the entire bed rocked beneath your bodies.

“That’s it, that’s it,” he snarled, “oh, princess, that’s it.”

He sank deep and pulled his hips back in a series of cruel thrusts that made your hips throb painfully. Your walls squeezed him as you came again and you milked him as he spent himself inside of you. He slowed and stopped as he hung his head and the muscles in his chest and arms tautened.

“Shit,” he breathed and slipped out of you, flinching as his tip brushed against you.

You stayed as you were as he let your leg fall to the bed and he sat between your legs and pushed his hair away from his face. He sighed and shook out his arms as if to free himself of the tension.

“You’re so good, princess,” he felt along your cunt and played with his cum as it seeped from you, “aren’t you?”

✨

Shamefully, you left the room in a new swimsuit. The former was stained from Peter’s punishment and after cleaning up, he forced you out with a fake smile. You emptied your margarita and ordered another with less reticence than before. Steve and Desiree had disappeared as Bucky humoured Halle’s flirting on one of the loungers.

Dinner was awkward enough as you weren’t foolish enough to think that no one noticed or heard your absence. You emptied three more glasses and Peter excused the two of you as he kept you from a fourth. You wobbled back to the room ahead of him and fell onto the bed without changing out of your shorts and shirt.

“You’re mad again?” you bubbled drunkenly.

“You’re drunk,” he said as removed his watch and unbuttoned his shirt, “I don’t like that.”

“You don’t, ha?” you rolled onto your back, “that first night you had no problem feeling me up while I was--”

“Princess,” he snapped, “you can only blame the drink for so much.”

“You’re an ass,” you slurred and turned your back to him.

He huffed and the light went out. You felt the mattress dip behind you as he lowered himself next to you. He was stiff and didn’t try to touch you.

“I should spank you for that,” he muttered, “but you’re so fucking lit you wouldn’t remember it.”

“I feel good,” you murmured, “for once.”

He pinched you and the bed jostled as he rolled onto his side.

“Go to sleep,” he ordered.

He didn’t need to tell you twice as the alcohol weighted your eyelids and you were soon snoring carelessly into the pillow.

✨

You woke with a start as your stomach churned. It was still late as you clamoured out of the bed and ran for the bathroom. You hugged the bowl as you retched into it. Your body revolted and the alcohol came up with your dinner.

You shuddered as you caught your breath and flushed. You rinsed your mouth and steady yourself as you veins were thick from excess.

You stumbled back into the bedroom. Peter was asleep. His even breath rasped up into the dark. It was a rare moment of peace unsettled only by the memory of the day. You recalled his reproach before you fell asleep, you knew that wouldn’t be the end of it.

You groaned and crept to the door and let yourself out quietly into the hall. You went to the kitchen, tiptoeing through the dark, and filled a glass with water. You sipped but a noise pricked your ears. You listened as you kept your lips on the rim and drank to ease the fire in your stomach.

You followed the sound until it was too late to retreat. The whimpers and groans mixed and sent a tingle through you as you realised what was happening. You stopped in shock, frozen as you found Bucky and Halle in the immense front room. He had her bent over a round ottoman, her fingers curled at the seam as he rutted into her from behind.

She squealed each thrust as her head hung over the other side of the cushion. “Slow down,” she wisped, “please, I told you-- ugh, I never done it like this be--”

She cried out and bit into the cushion as he slapped her ass and fucked her harder, his other hand stretched between her shoulder blades. You took a step back and the movement caught his eye. He looked up and held your gaze as his face contorted into a sinister grin.

He sped up as he reached to smother her wails and held your gaze. You gripped the glass tightly and trembled as you backed away from the doorway. You spun and raced back to your room and tripped through the door.

You crashed to the floor and the glass shattered as water splashed around you. Peter sat up with a snort and reached to flip on the lamp at the bedside.

“What’s going on?” he asked sleepily.

“Just getting water,” you croaked as you sat back on your heels in the midst of the broken glass.

“Shit, did you cut yourself?” he asked as he saw you.

“No, no, I’m okay but-- stay there, you’ll get hurt. I’m close enough, I can… I’ll clean it up… I’m sorry.”

He stared at you and slowly nodded. The anger crinkled in his forehead and you stood carefully.

“So, now we know not to drink like that, huh?” he girded.

“I said, I’m sorry.”

“Mmhmm,” he leaned back against the headboard, “go on, princess, clean up your mess.”

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