#too much plot not enough connections i want to say.... and it IS because it's too short.... you can't even tell how katara learnt to bend
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Batfam X One Piece Crossover AU
Someone mentioned this sort of au and I went Insane a bit ^-^' hope you guys enjoy!
Okay so a Batfam in the One Piece world au and how I think it would work/go;
I imagine the Batfam were whammied into an entirely new dimension while on patrol so we have the full costumed roster (but not the full extended clan cuz that's so many people lol) so we have Bruce/Batman, Dick/Nightwing, Jason/Red Hood, Tim/Red Robbin, Damian/Robin, Cass/Black Bat, Stephanie/Batgirl (you can pry Steph still being batgirl out of my cold dead hands), and Duke/Signal.
The First thing they do is figure out where they are, an island in something called the ___ blue (idk which they should be in lol, but it's best if they start in a blue I think), and are very obviously not in their world. (I'm gonna say for the sake of Plot either One Piece doesn't exist in their world or none of them have watched/read it because that would be too easy lol)
Ofc the second thing they do is try to find a way home and gather info but uh, they quickly realize this world doesn't have the best tech around to build something to take them home, and places/people they can get to would be either hard to find or in a place that's very dangerous to get to (Vegapunk is their best bet but... not really an option for right away due to mentioned reasons).
They think of asking this "World Government" for help for all of two seconds, before finding out how fucking awful and corrupt the whole system this world has and nixes that idea right in the bud. They're Vigilantes for a reason, after all, and know corruption in governments very well. So honestly, their best bet is either trying to go along and find someone that can help and materials, or waiting for their people from their world to come and get them.
(SO much more under cut im sorry Brain went Brrr)
Tbh it must be so wild to be in this world too tho, for some many reasons. It's close enough, but then you factor in all the different races and species, and how the world is set up. Add the fact most of it not as advanced as their world, except in some places which it is? And how half their technology runs on... snails?????? What a baffling world. Also, people can have powers and are gained from something called Devil Fruits which give you powers in exchange that the sea can and will kill you, except for some races have natural powers due to their biology.
They decide pretty quickly in world of water to not eat the Devil Fruits. Also keep an eye on Duke because his powers, while not too flashy, arnt a devil fruit, and they have no way to explain how he has them, and how he can manipulate both light and shadows.
Its probs also so jarring because like, in their world, they are used to being the peak of what humans can do. They keep up with metas and aliens and are cosidered among the best of the best for a reason, and while they often have to compensate with gear and tech, at the end of the day they can only go so far as humans.
However, it's different in this world. Clearly even though there are humans, their biological standards are different then their Earth, and even just humans without powers can go far beyond their own norm if they train and work hard enough for it.
The Batfam could easily handle the Blue's pirates and marines, and probs all cannon fodder marines, and while I think they could deal with a good chunk if not most people in Paradise baring the strongest in the first half of the grand line, there's no way they could deal with the New World even with their best gear and in peak condition for them. Which sucks because their best bets are likely in that Sea.
Idk where I'd see them, my heart wants them to be pirates of their own little run pirate crew, but I could easily see them being picked up by a canon crew or turning Revolutionaries in exchange for getting help find a way home, or pirates with connections to Revs. The only thing I can't see is them as Marines, as stated a few paragraphs above, lol, but also I figure they run into the law and go fuck you guys and what you stand for and end up with bounties so they are wanted anyways. But either way they are gonna be progressing and trying to find a way home while getting stronger.
I imagine Haki is the first thing they really try to get down after leanring about it. Idk how they managed to find out about it either in the blues or so early in the grand line, but they are expert information gatherers so they do and immediately try to learn it (either tracking someone down who knows it or how to unlock it, or finding adequate documentation in how to do it) and get to work. It's their best chances in getting a leg up in this world.
And they do unlock it! They're pretty much all geniuses, and they already have experience learning weird skills and manipulating their mental will (they can block out telepaths and have strong willpower in general against mind control canonically), so learning to manifest it into Observation and Armament Haki is less about how hard it is and more just if they can (After all they aren't from this world) and how to apply it. Thankfully, it seems they can.
Duke's Observation makes his future vision so much more powerful, so much he actually has adverse effects to it at first before he gets used to it. Observation is great, just helps what they already natrually know but Armament is very much beloved, instant armor that helps you hit harder even against normal people, let alone devil fruit users!! They are big fans.
Conquerors Haki off the table rn because A.) they don't know if they have it and B.) Who or whatever they learned Haki from didn't explain it or have it to explain so that's put to the side for now, but I'm unsure who, if any of them, have it. Maybe Bruce and Jason, and maybe Damian? I feel?? I could also see Dick unlocking his use of it in a fit of protective rage? Im largely Unsure.
I also think it would be neat if the longer they are here, their bodies adapt to this world more and more until they start being able to past their peak of what they could do before and just... keep going. It varies from each batfam member how they feel on their biology changing over time, but they can't do more than just accept it. At least it will help them survive.
Also, they have to adapt in more ways than one. They arrive and their best gear, fully stocked and mostly undamaged, but the longer they are here the more they run out of supplies and things wear down so they have to figure out how to get/make more or alternate for something better. Batarangs thankfully, while having to be made of a different material, can be made from any island with a good blacksmith who's willing to let them use their forges to make them themselves (cuz having to commission them would take money they don't actually have)
Their suits thankfully are fine and reinforced, but over time they're gonna have to likely find a fabric that could replace the stuff their suits are made of or just switch to diffrent outfits inspired by their suits. Dick's Escrima Sticks can't be charged, so they end up not electrified until they find a way to do it later. Jason's guns inevitably run out of ammo then even if he makes his own, they get just damaged so he's forced to switch to the local pirate guns, thankfully not all are just flintlocks.
Damian's sword is apparently very high grade here and is very smug about it, though annoyed other "Swordsmen" keep wanting to know more about his blade and where he learned to use his "weird style". Tim gets a boa staff that has the ends tipped in sea stone.
Their styles also adapt over time. I have this vision of Dick getting his hands on these boots, probs with Dial technology, that let him jump higher and bounce off of walls if he times it right. Jason with Dial guns. They start picking up the 6 powers as well, not all, but Geppo and Soru become very heavily utilized. I think one of them should end up with Voice of all Things, either Cass or Duke, because it's fun lol.
Im... unsure about devilfruits, but I think it would be intrestin to explore if somone ate one, likely out of despration or having little choice. Unsure who or what fruit but just would be neat i think, expecially dealin with the side effects. Tho Dick with a Wind Logia or a winged Zoan of sorts sounds SO interesting. (Can you tell who my favorite batfam memeber is? ^-^')
As for Ponyglaph Runes, Bruce and Tim def find out about it and try their best to tackle it, but It's REALLY hard to learn an entirely different language with unfamiliar sentence structure when you have absolutely no keys or references to work with. They learn of Nico Robin, and aren't stupid so figure it's likely an awful cover-up or more to the story, and decide to lowkey make it one of their goals to track her or any other knowledge on how to learn it down. If they get even a bare hint of a clue on how to translate, I'm sure they'd figure it out over time, but Robin is their best bet.
They find out about Whitebeard, and they are quietly glad Bruce's adoption problem isn't that bad but think its funny. Dick is beloved by all and makes enough friends and allies to rival Luffy's charisma, it's a skill man. I can't decide if their Epithets in this world are just their Vigilante names, and they stay masked, or they get knew Epithets and decide there's no point in hiding, or a mix of both but yee.
The OP world either speaks "Common" they can all magically speak now with some diffrent launages in diff parts of the world, OR Japanese, which some of them know and have to teach the others, OR a weird mix of English and Japanese. There's a point in time that people think Damian is Nico Robin's child or sibling because of the Robin thing, and he's a little demon child. Or hell they still do, and he's very livid while Robin is both amused but also scared for this child who is being tied to her.
They still dont kill for the most part, baring Jason, but some of them are pushed into it and they have to figure out what that means for them and what it means moving fowrard with their no kill policy. Some do better with it, some dont. Bruce still hasnt and wont kill, same with Cass, and Damian decides he doesnt want to but will if absolutly no other choice is offered, thankfully they havnt let him had to make this choice yet. (I just have so much thoughts about a assassin raised child deciding they dont want their hands more red now they have the choice).
One or more of them should end up pulled into the War at Marineford and Ace should be saved because I will try to fit a Ace Lives plot into everything lol
Overall I think if this was a fanfic the plot would be a lot of exploring the differences in their worlds, how they adapt and overcome, and trying to find a way home while also coming to like this world and overturning corruption and fucking over the government. I think them with the Strawhats or another crew would be fun, either as allies or joined idk, but I think with them as their own crew would be cool as well. If they join or ally with a crew Bruce lowkey adopts everyone, and he's given SO much shit for it but christ so many of them have such sad backstories and he wants to help
I think in the end they should get to find their way home and like no time has passed, but they're so changed, and arguably considered powered now because lol, but find a way to go back and visit safely.
Sorry for the word vomit but man im in love with this idea. Feel free to comment or send Asks with questions or comments about the au! Please Reblog, and not just like, as they do nothing <3
#mine#aus#one piece au#headcanon#batman#dc comics#dc x op#dc x one piece#batfam#pirate batfam#bruce wayne#dick grayson#jason todd#tim drake#damian wayne#cassandra cain#stephanie brown#duke thomas#straw hat pirates#whitebeard pirates#One Piece Batfam au
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*seeing 80 warships coming to destroy a whole nation*: you gotta be kidding me....
#the dialogue.....#he really is 13 but........#momo saved a child omg i forgor#i forget about him cause he just appears sometimes lmao you can't barely tell he travels with them... he just shows up whenever#I PAUSED AND HE IS CRUSHED BY A ROCK NO FUCKING WAY HE DIED oh nvm he is alive#zuko just appearing into the castle...... it needed more time to breathe that appearance#katara zuko battle inside 😞😞😞#they wont let him freeze outside????#they dont show a fish dying but then follow unnamed soldier number 8 as he runs from fire and falls to his death....#they didnt do a sokka yue and that guy triangle bc they knew the other guy fighting wouldnt be making sokka any favours#'the moon spirit is dead''there must be some way of bringing it back to life!''omg sokka thank you 😘' <- but forreals#the fish is already in rigor mortis#katara with the moon on her back and aang as the water spirit.... banger....#KATARA YOU NEED TO SCREAM!!! HE DOESNT HEAR YOU!!!#i gotta say the relationships dont really work for me here..... like they have talked alone max two times....#but like platonic relationships i mean like only iroh and zuko work bc they are continuously alone and there are multiple scenes about#their relationship and how it started#and then for aang katara and sokka you have?????? barely anything that cements their relationships#their most emotional scenes are flashbacks with other people but thats just for character not relationships#too much plot not enough connections i want to say.... and it IS because it's too short.... you can't even tell how katara learnt to bend#HAHN DIED?????? JESUS#iroh calming down zuko by telling him jee is alright ahdhskdj#i dunno.... 🥺 im tired 🥺#azula slay for the finale hell yeah lmao#final thots i think zukos story is more clear cut than aangs so it was easier to adapt..... steals the show a bit#and idk yeah relationships apart from zuko and iroh and maybe sokka and katara (we need the feminist ally arc for more depth lmao)#aang is just??? there alone. to me at least#was hard to ephatize with what katara was saying about being his family when we haven't seen any of that#talking tag#watching natla
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Cam you make jihyo and eunbi x m reader.eunbi and jihyo is reader horny mommy,jihyo want reader to make her pregnant and eunbi want it too because she was jealous.
The Breeding Clinic
Park Jihyo, Kwon Eunbi x Male Reader
Tags: breeding, creampie, titfucking, nurses, rough sex.
Word count: 5961.
Day 1
The last few hours hadn't been the best for Dr. Park Jihyo. Attracted by the alternative of a stable job beyond her already long idol career, she had decided to get a job at a medical clinic in the days she wasn't performing in Twice. However, the first few days of the job had been exhausting for her, leaving Jihyo in a state of despair. As the last patient entered the room, he found Jihyo with her head down, having enough of such a job.
"Hi, I'm here to see a doctor." You entered Jihyo's room. She wasn't much in the mood for another patient this late in the day, having even forgotten she still had someone waiting for an appointment. In spite of that, Jihyo kept it professional, putting her head up as you talked to her, asking for your name to see if that was indeed the case, and then confirming you were indeed scheduled for an appointment. "Sit down there; I'll be back soon with the procedures." Jihyo stared at you, dirty thoughts already in her mind as she looked for. Her previous patients were all insufferable dudes with little man syndrome, but you look different. She kept looking at your sexy stature and plotting what she was about to do.
Jihyo put her uniform in a position where you could clearly see her massive tits popping out before exiting her room. You took the magazines she had put in the waiting room to market her "TT Clinic", almost wondering if this wasn't a scam. The magazine had nothing regarding medical procedures, and it was filled with sexy pictures of two idols: Jihyo and Kwon Eunbi, who was apparently the other doctor in the clinic. You keep looking at the magazines and seeing the same thing before the sound of high heels coming out of Jihyo's room interrupts you.
"Come to my room." She says. You look shocked as Jihyo is wearing those sexy nurse costumes you'd usually see at a party but not at a clinic. A perfect cleavage to showcase her boobs, a red thong, and a pair of gathers connect her nurse outfit to her pantyhose. You obliged, sitting in her medical chair as Jihyo picked up her instruments, ready to examine you. "So, what issues do we have here?".
"I injured my hand; I don't even know how to tell because you'd feel so embarrassed knowing the reason", you tell her. "It's fine; you don't need to tell me; just disclose the injury. Now we're going to follow some standard procedures. Can you please take your shirt off?", Jihyo asked. "Alright", you say as you take it off. Jihyo doesn't even look at your hands, checking instead your heart rate, her breasts bumping against your chest, making you feel a little embarrassed, leading you to ask, "What kind of exam is this?"
"Just relax, baby; trust your doctor", Jihyo replies as she puts her hands under your pants, also taking them off while placing her boobs against your face. Things start taking a wild turn as she wraps her blood pressure monitor around your cock. "Looks too flaccid; let me do something to make it go up", she says, licking the tip of your wrapped cock, as you're only able to groan as her tongue keeps making some naughty circular moves around your tip.
"Ahhhhh", you let out your first loud moan as Jihyo wrapped her mouth around the tip of your shaft, making her smile as you screamed. She pumps the monitor, clenching it around your cock as she keeps sucking it. It turns out she knows how to pump someone's blood pressure up as you start to get hard and your penis veiny at each pump and licking Jihyo gives you. "How about that treatment, baby?", Jihyo asks with a big smile on her face, putting the monitor down as she just turned your cock from a flaccid instrument into a throbbing monster. "Hard as rock, would you mind if I sat down on it?", Jihyo asks.
"Sit down? I-I-I", you stutter as Jihyo starts taking her red panties off, her high heels shaking the floor as she walks in your direction, climbing on top of your body as she lines up your big cock against her tight wet entrance. For a second, you forget your injured hand and try to line it up yourself, but she quickly takes control, grabbing your pole with her left hand and sticking it inside her pussy, moaning for the first time on that exasperating day. She wastes no time, taking your full length in one go. "Ohhhh shit" you exclaim as her tight pussy wraps around your cock.
"Much tighter than that pumper, right, baby?" Jihyo brags as she starts bouncing up and down your cock, taking a pair of inclined bounces before riding you straight down. The little air coming out of her super tight vagina makes it queef, as you hold yourself not to cum after not even a minute inside her. You gave her left cheeks a spank, but Jihyo remains unfazed. "Spank me, baby", she says, as it only makes her bounce faster and go all the way up before slamming straight down your cock. Jihyo sets both feet in the chair as she moves faster every time she slams her cheeks down your hips.
You grab Jihyo's ass, but truly, she's the only one setting the pace; her sexy moans make you go even crazier. Jihyo uses your cock like a training toy, her cheeks clapping against your hips as she tests multiple bouncing motions against your dick. She puts her right leg on the floor with her left leg still holding by the edge of the chair, making your cock hit different spots in her womb. "So how do you like mommy Jihyo's treatment, baby?" she asks. "Oh, yes, it's so good", you reply as you pant at every bounce. "Faster, please" you say as you spank her ass again, and Jihyo grants your wish, riding you in a way that feels like your cock is about to snap in half. "Hold on, baby", you can't resist, and you start thursting upwards into her pussy, making Jihyo release her loudest moans yet. "Oh baby yes baby" she says in a cute voice before taking back control and slamming back down. Her tits bounce very close to your face, but Jihyo makes sure to keep them out of your range.
She then pulls out after a long ride and gives your prick a deep sucking. You can't resist her warm mouth, thrusting hard upwards and fucking it the way you wanted to plow her pussy. Jihyo then gives you a long deepthroat before she gags on your massive cock. You grab her by the hair and make her go down on you again all the way into your balls. But Jihyo is a tough fighter and starts stroking and sucking you like nothing happened. As she licks your balls, you give her tits a little pinch, making her bite your testicles in reaction. "Give me that dirty face", you answer back as you give her an even harder facefuck than the first one.
After this oral session, you get up the chair, holding Jihyo's hands and putting her on her knees against the chair, your hands going straight into her wet cunt. Then you give a pair of spankings to her ass. "Bad doctor, this is what you deserve", you tell her. Your tongue then circles around Jihyo's anus, making her squirt for the first time as you lick her butthole clean. Next, you stick a pair of fingers back in her pussy and start fucking her with them. "You like them better than my cock, don't you?", to which Jihyo only answers with louder moans. "Fuck that pussy and eat that ass", she demands, to which you answer with even more aggressive fingering and tonguing.
You can't resist your urge anymore, sliding your cock back inside her warm hole with her wet folds, inviting you into that chair. You put your fingers in her mouth to shut her up as she tastes her nectar straight from her pussy. The loose buttons of Jihyo's nurse outfit couldn't hold anymore, freeing her tits to bounce as you pounded her relentlessly. You firmly groped her melons as you keep pumping in and out of Jihyo. "Fuck that pussy hard" she says as her voice starts to crack. You started choking her as well, leading to her clenching her tight fuckhole even harder around your cock. "AHHHHHHHH. AHHHHHHH AHHHHHHHH" it was all she could scream as you kept stabbing her insides.
"Give it to me, please", the dominant Jihyo had given away to a begging one as you kept increasing the pace. "Turn around", you said as Jihyo could only give muffled noises out of her mouth, going back to suck your cock without even needing to use her hands, before caving in for another round of you pounding her messy face as tears flew out of her eyes. "Put those tits up for me to see", you demanded as Jihyo grabbed her saggy milkers as you kept destroying her throat, eventually making her gag again as you stuck your sword fully inside, with even your balls being engulfed by her needy mouth. You kept slapping your cock on Jihyo's face while her mouth heated up your testicles.
More sloppy blowjobs, deepthroats, and facefucks followed, but you had your eyes on a bigger prize. Noticing how they freely bounced as you fucked Jihyo's face, you turned your eyes to her huge honkers. "Ahhh yeah, put those tits out" you said as you finished throating her, sliding your cock between her soft milkers. Jihyo spits on the top of her tits to let you slide easier into her fun bags, moaning as you split her boobs in half with your cock. Jihyo's iconic tits are your playground now, as she moans like a whore and licks the tip of your penis every time it's within her range. Her hands on top of your shaft, her melons squeezing and gripping it, her mouth sucking it. Everything is an invitation for you to cum.
But Jihyo isn't done. "Give me that cock again", she asks, as you sit on the chair for another ride, this time in reverse. Jihyo's pink, unshaved pussy now engulfs your cock fully. Her tits bounce like pinballs, but you can't see them, leading her to tease you. She rocks her hips, grinding and circling around your shaft, all that while moaning in a manner that sounds like baby noises. You hold her waist as she fingers her pussy, the chair making loud noises as she presses your body against it harder at every bounce. You grab her tits as she stops the bounce to drink her juices straight out of your cock.
Jihyo grunts as you dunk her face against your shaft, then sucks it compulsively, getting it ready for fun. Her hands stroke it with no mercy, and her mouth throats it deep into your balls. Quickly, she's back on top, where she belongs, as you direct your cock using your injured hand straight inside her warm vagina. Jihyo spreads her legs wide open, allowing you to pump deep into her cervix. She moans as she's about to be sent to the heavens. Her pussycat squirts as your balls hit her clit. "OHHHHH FUCKK YESSS, KEEP GOING!" she yells. "OH MY GOD, DON'T STOP", she grunts as you pump her like a piston and grab both her big tits. "Ah ah ah ah ah oh shit", she says as she bites her teeth. "I love the way you fuck me", she says.
But even at the roughest moments, Jihyo never loses her composure, jumping out of your cock like nothing happened, sitting on the chair and spreading her delicious pussy out for you to eat it out, enjoying as your mouth licked her folds. "Oh yeah, baby, lick that clit" she mandated as you kept sucking her insiders while she grabbed her own tits. She puts her right foot in your neck and her right rand in your head, guiding you towards paradise, but you decided to surprise her, sticking two fingers inside. "Oh yes, fuck that pussy", she moaned. You grope her right boob and leave its nipples close for her to lick them as her pussy gets wetter. Jihyo starts shaking with both your mouth and fingers, now stimulating her pussy, her head drops down, and she gets ready to orgasm, coating your mouth with juices just as you grab her tits again.
You put Jihyo upside down in the chair, cock in her mouth, hand in her tits. As you keep mating against Jihyo's filthy mouth, you move upwards and start fingering her clit. "Don't speak, bitch", you tell her as you keep stimulating her. "Stick that tongue out", you also say as she licks your shaft inside her mouth, only letting it out for her to lick your balls. "Play with that pussy", you say as you go back to honking her tits, your cock still in her face. "Wanna do that to my pussy?", Jihyo asks just as you pull out. You grab her by the waist and put her back in the chair on her knees, letting her tits freely bounce.
The pounding continues for a few minutes until she switches positions. Jihyo lies her back against the chair and spreads her pussy wide open for one final round. "I want you to get me pregnant and make those tiddies grow", she tells you. You start pounding her in missionary, your hands grabbing her just under her boobs before you move up, using her knockers as a grip as you pump in and out of her pussy. "Fuck it, yes, harder", she says as you then grab her neck with your right hand and place your left hand on her soon-to-be pregnant belly. You then start going full speed, your hands all over Jihyo's right side, grabbing both her right leg and tit, before your left hand moves into her left tit and gropes it as you get closer to cumming. Her pussy clenches waiting for that warm load. Jihyo pants loudly, making you take your left hand out of her tits and straight into her mouth. You don't want to hear what her slutty mouth has to say, hyper-focused on destroying her tight pussy.
You eventually decide it's futile, just letting that bitch scream. You put her on a mating press, both hands on her big tits. "Ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah oh fuck yes" seems like all Jihyo can say now before she suddenly says, "I want you to fuck that pussy hard until you cum". You grip her boobs even harder, knowing you can't last for much longer. "Please, baby, cum in my pussy", she says with an angelic voice, your hands all over her chest and neck. "Fucking give me that cum. Fill that pussy up; give it to me", Jihyo keeps demanding. You manhandle her like a toy, which eventually leads to you giving in. "Ahhh ahhh ahhh" you groan as your semen flows inside her tight fuckhole.
"Oh fuck, oh shit", you scream as you quickly fill Jihyo up with such a strong load that when you pull out, you still ejaculate sperm into her creamy thighs, and cum quickly starts flowing out of her vagina. "Are you better now, baby?", Jihyo provokes. "A lot better, but my hand still hurts", you reply, ending the appointment.
Day 2
The night after wasn't the best. Jihyo had drained your energies so much that you could barely get yourself hard. Your hand still hurts, but since your medical appointment became a fucking appointment, nothing has changed. So, just like the night before you tried what led to your injury in the first place, jerk off to your endless supply of fancams. However, this time, things weren't working. After the real thing, it was difficult to get hard again. Well, except for one girl frenetically bouncing her tits at some water festival and getting herself wet.
Things got worse the following day; you woke up extremely sore, needing a long bath just to get things rolling. But things took a massive turn when you received an email: it was the bill from yesterday's appointment. The unaffordable cost made your head spin. You felt scammed, ready to go back to the clinic and have a talk with Jihyo. As you arrived, there was no Jihyo to greet you, but another short girl with big tits and a ridiculous nurse outfit. "Hi", she said. You felt almost offended. "What do you mean by hi? What is this?", You showed the medical bill to the girl.
It turns out Dr. Kwon Eunbi's plan worked just as she intended it to. Finding out what you did to Jihyo yesterday made her very jealous and horny. But she needed to find a way to bring you back. Eunbi wasted no time, sending you the medical bill as soon as she set foot in the clinic. You, of course, didn't know anything about this at all. But her goal was met with ease; she knew how mad people can go over money. "So what do you want?", Eunbi asked.
"Jihyo, where is she?", you asked. "Not her shift today; you'll have to wait until tomorrow", Eunbi replied. "What if I don't want to wait until tomorrow?", you said back. "There is no way; she's at another job today and won't come", Eunbi lied. As a matter of fact, she could call Jihyo from her apartment at any moment, but she wasn't going to share with her what she could have for herself. Meanwhile, your blood was boiling. "Fuck!" you screamed. "No way you can call that bitch until tomorrow? What kind of scam do you two run here?", you screamed really mad, but also keeping a look at Eunbi's big tits.
"Stay for today, and you'll find out", Eunbi laughed. Her outfit was even skimpier than Jihyo's, showing off her belly and with just a nurse top covering her tits. Her red panties were just like her big-tit co-worker's. Eunbi got back to her room but left the door open, remaining in your sight. As she turned back to close the curtains, you could see her bare back, her ass in undies, and even a sideboob. Eunbi then turned around and grabbed her tits, teasing you from afar.
"What the hell is this?", you asked, coming towards her room. "You two are not real doctors, just a bunch of scammers", you said. "And who are you to tell us that? I know you liked being scammed by that other big boob bitch that works here, didn't you? She told me everything", Eunbi stood her ground. You grab Eunbi by her arm, growing madder at her. "I'm gonna dennounce you both. Running a brothel disguised as a medical clinic, you two are disgusting", you said. "Surely you didn't find it disgusting when you were fucking the shit out of her baby boy", Eunbi punched back.
"Alright then. Let's find out". You picked your credit card out of your wallet and paid the so-called unafforable medical bill Eunbi had sent you. "So after this money I paid you, be honest: is this a medical clinic or a brothel?", you asked. "It's whatever you want to be, baby boy", Eunbi replied. "Now you're mine too, bitch", you told Eunbi. "Yes, I am", she confirmed, jumping on you as both of you started kissing each other.
Eunbi headed to a different room. She knew that one had been used by Jihyo yesterday, and it still smelled like sex. But she didn't want to fuck while sensing her co-worker's smell. She couldn't stop kissing you; it was really her thing. And you couldn't stop looking at her tits, ready to burst out of that top; it was really your thing. Just like Jihyo, Eunbi was quite strong, as despite her light frame, she managed to pin you against the window. She quickly started working around your pelvic area, putting her hands on your still clothed but already hard cock. "Let's see if you can fuck me better than that bitch", she said.
You answered her moves back, grabbing Eunbi's ass and giving soft kisses on her neck. It wasn't long before you started sucking her right tit, wondering how her milky melons tasted. Yesterday you were too afraid to do that to Jihyo, but today you went after Eunbi's massive milkers from the start. She kept her hands on your cock, exclaiming "Oh you're so hard" as you kept grabbing her boobs. Eunbi couldn't resist for long, dropping to the floor and licking it with your pants still on. She quickly tossed them out, grabbing them with her left hand while wearing her nurse gloves, stroking them, and sucking them right from the get-go.
"Oh my God", it was your first reaction as she finished her first sucking, staring at your massive shaft with lustful eyes. "It's so much better than the old and twinky cocks I usually suck here", she tells you before giving you the first deepthroat of the day and a few more hard and fast strokes, her tits already fully out. Eunbi then added some spit to her intense stroking as she kept diving her mouth in and out of your prick. If Jihyo moans were on the cutesy side, Eunbi's were more like the ones of a veteran pornstar.
It wasn't for long before you unleashed the rage she had made you feel. The first victim was, of course, her mouth. As Eunbi was giving you a deepthroating, you grabbed her by the hair and started fucking her face. Her sexy moans after you pulled out turned you on even further. Eunbi put her tongue out, licking the tip of your penis as you swung it close to her slutty face. Of course you took full advantage, letting her lick your whole cock from balls to tip while also slapping it against her face.
"Use me", she demanded. Hearing those words only increased your desire to fuck the shit out of that bitch as you humped your cock against her face. Yesterday you were too nice to Jihyo, but today you'd be the one taking control and turning Eunbi into your sex object. You inserted your cock back in Eunbi's throat, making her gag. She moaned every time you pulled it out, which drove you insane. You pushed Eunbi close to the bed and slammed your hips against her chin, jerking yourself off as she licked your balls like a maniac. "God you're so fucking slutty!" you exclaimed, grabbing her neck and spitting in her mouth.
You got on her knees and went straight up into fucking her tits, "aaaahhhh. aahhhh, ahhhhhh" out of breath moans coming out of her mouth. You push her tits against each other, holding your shaft with just your thumb as you kiss her. "Yes, baby, slide that cock under those fucking tits", she said, bobbing her head to take your penis head in her mouth. "Spit on it, spit on it, whore", you demanded, fucking her even harder and even using the straps of her fallen bra as a support. Eunbi put her tongue out as your cock kept meeting her needy mouth, sucking it deep as soon as you paused a bit.
"Oh God damn it," you reacted, pushing Eunbi's head against your crotch, making her engulf your sword balls deep again. Out of breath, she lied only the top of her back in the bed as you tried ripping her nurse outfit. It turns out it was easier just pulling her panties to the side and sliding inside her tight mommy pussy. "Aaaaah aaaaahh aaaaah", Eunbi moaned as your cock went between her legs. She attempted to start riding, but you were having none of it, putting her back against the bed and thrusting your hips against her hot body, making her tits bounce from the start.
You firmly groped Eunbi's tits, her moans getting louder at each thrust. You spanked her tits before grabbing her by the waist and sticking your thumb on her belly button. "OH, YOU'RE SO FUCKING DEEP INSIDE ME, DAMN IT", she screamed. Her pussy was on fire as each thurst you gave her made Eunbi twist harder and harder. Eunbi was almost falling on her knees; she wasn't expecting such a rough treatment and quickly started losing the strength she had once shown. You grabbed her by the neck, choking her like she was just a sex doll.
It wasn't long until you carried Eunbi, taking advantage of her weakness, your cock still inside her hole. She screamed as you lifted her off the ground and started carryfucking her, Eunbi's tits bouncing right at your face for you to suck. She felt truly scared; even though she had been fucked in that position multiple times, you had put her completely at your mercy. "Oh my God", she screamed as she spanked her own ass. "Yes, bitch, spank yourself like the useless whore you are", you told her. "Fuck!" Eunbi yelled as she spanked her ass again, leading to your cock briefly pulling out of her hole.
"Put that cock back in, put that shit in", you ordered, punishing her almost immediately. Just as Eunbi tried to make up for her little slip by trying to bounce on your cock, you pulled out of her and slammed her body back first against the bed, while also yanking your pants off. "Oh, baby, please give it to me", Eunbi begged, bobbing her head against your cock while upside down. You kept testing her limits, fingering her pussy while she throated your cock using none of her hands, until finally hitting the right spot in her clit that made her moan and pull it out of her mouth. But she quickly recovered and kept sucking, making you put even more pressure and work your magic inside her folds until you finally turned her into a moaning machine.
"Oh God", she said in the middle of many moans. But you didn't care. "Put that tongue in my balls", you immediately asked from her as she also jerked you off with her glove around your shaft. All your fingers except your thumb were now fucking her pussy, making Eunbi moan with your balls in her mouth. "That fucking pussy is so damn wet", you exclaimed before moving to her tits, groping them hard once more, and sitting on top of Eunbi for another round of titfucking, even better now with her tonguing your asshole.
After a while, you flipped Eunbi back, ripping her nurse outfit for good and going back to work. Her cunt was even wetter now. Eunbi was caught off guard by the speed at which you were plowing her, moaning like a submissive toy. You spat on her vagina and slapped your cock against her clit, before going back in for another extreme pounding, rattling the bed. "Oh God", Eunbi screamed again as you started fingering her while working her insides. Her legs started to tremble, giving you even more room to destroy her unchallenged as her left leg went up in the air. "You're so fucking deep, I'm gonna cum", Eunbi announced as you fingered her hard, making her legs shake even harder.
"There you go, cum for me, bitch", you said as you noticed Eunbi shaking, her legs closing, and her screaming as you kept pounding her while she reached intense orgasms. "Holy shit", you said as her insides closed around your cock, but you kept fucking her relentlessly, taking advantage of a now weaker than ever Eunbi. She kissed you, trying to cling to anything as her fuckhole kept being obliterated. She could barely speak properly, saying a bunch of words you interpreted as "keep sticking that cock deep inside me." After a while, all she could do was beg. "Please, please, please", she kept screaming.
You dropped Eunbi to the ground, letting her taste her juices straight from your cock. "Good girl", you laughed, putting a stop to it as she attempted to suck it deep by fucking her face once more. Eunbi was so weak, you managed to grab her by the nipples and pinch her back against the wall. She put her right leg on the window as you fucked her from behind, spanking her ass in the process. More grunting noises came from her mouth as you continued the pounding and spanking. "You're a fucking animal, fucking me so good", she said. Hearing it gave you further incentive to fuck her even harder, turning her ass cheeks redder at each spanking. "I'm that fucking bitch", Eunbi kept saying.
Indeed, by that point, Eunbi was your bitch, as she started shaking once more. Sensing it, you fingered her folds again, seeking for that second orgasm in just a short period of time. Eunbi lost her balance, gabbing your cock with her left hand as it landed right on her face. "Do you want it, bitch?", you asked her. "Yes, put it on my tongue", Eunbi said, almost losing her voice. She licked your tip before you stuck it deep in her throat once more, grabbing her by the neck as soon as she gagged. You lied on the bed with Eunbi on top of you. She finally got herself fully naked as you inserted your cock back into her pussy. Her big tits were looking amazing.
You gave no time for Eunbi to adjust, keeping control even with her on top, grabbing both her boobs while thursting hard inside her pussy. Both your hands went down to finger her clit as you made the bed scream. "That's for you, my tight pussy, that's for you, baby", she said, almost out of breath as you kept destroying her babyhole. "I love watching that dick split me up", Eunbi said as you spread her clit wide open, exerting extreme stimulation on her sensitive spots. You slapped her clit as she moaned louder, before rocking her hips and pounding her insanely, then gripping her boobs once more. Eunbi had barely any force to do anything, spitting on her own pussy which prompted you to call her a nasty girl. "So good; I'm a dirty fuckwhore", she said.
You put her body close to yours, kissing her while your right hand held her clit. "I'm a fucking whore, I'm a fucking whore, for you", she repeated as your mouth sucked her neck and right boob. "There you go, come on, come on, bitch", you said as Eunbi once again was coming close, shaking her legs once again. Eunbi was now completely dominated, as you grabbed her tits hard and kept plowing her, her head almost falling out of the bed. "Take me, take me, take me", she demanded as you pumped her hard. All she could do was moan. Her legs kept shaking as you fingered her once more, her body twitching as she came onto your fingers. As she released her juices, you spanked her juices and quickly moved back to her tits, stimulating her at both the top and bottom of her body.
"That's my whore, that's my whore", you exclaimed as you rocked the bed, putting your right hand in her mouth to silence her moans. Eunbi started fingering herself as you kept pounding her, finally reaching full climax and rocking her hips against your cock. You asked her to pull it out so she could taste it. Eunbi savored it as if she were a kid eating ice cream, but she wanted more, quickly jumping on top of you and lining your shaft back against her entrance. "Put it in", you demanded, hugging Eunbi as soon as she was deep inside you. Unlike Jihyo, you knew she didn't have the strength for a ride after such a rough pounding, meaning all you got was another chance to destroy her pussy unchalleged.
Of course you took it, starting very slowly and giving her ass some grabbing and spanking. Eunbi was crying at this point; her moans were now followed by tears flowing out of her eyes. "Daddy, daddy", finally hearing those words from Eunbi's mouth made you flip a switch, turning you more animalesque than ever as you switched quickly from slow thursts to another hard plowing, wrapping her body around your arms. "AH AH AH. FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME", Eunbi screamed, trying to hold herself to the bed's headboard and to the wall as you sucked her tits. "DADDY!" she screamed again and started riding you, trying to show she wasn't being utterly dominated, her bounces were deep and slow, almost like she was exerting all the will inside her to execute them.
That didn't last long, as you quickly got back to your normal route, plowing Eunbi once more. You unwrapped her from your arms, letting her body stay upright, reaching now to grab her tits. Eunbi moaned some uninteligible noise, which you heard as "FUCK MY PUSSY", You obliged and kept going, pushing her ass down against your pelvis, then you You quickly take Eunbi in your hands, grabbing her waist with ease, and carry fuck her once more, more violently than ever. You then pull out of her, slapping her face as you put the bed's pillow on the floor, pushing her head towards it. An upside-down Eunbi then screams, "GET ME PREGNANT NOW.".
That was what you wanted to hear. The thought of impregnating two titcows on back-to-back days gets you extremely turned on. You put Eunbi in a piledriver position, grunting as you get back inside her. Eunbi's tits and her slutty moaning mouth upside down make you get even more maniac. "PUT THAT ASS UP, I WANT THAT CUM FLOWING STRAIGHT TO YOUR FUCKING WOMB", you yell at Eunbi as you pull out to let her adjust before going back in again, this time not even looking at her, treating her as if you were fucking your personal fleshlight. "Cum in my little fuckhole", Eunbi demands, to which you answer by spanking her ass. You start groaning, ready to burst at any moment. "OH MY GOD, YOU'RE SO DEEP", she screams. "Spread that pussy for me, bitch", you scream. As Eunbi now can only moan, she closes her eyes, getting ready for you to fill her womb with your thick load. "Give me that fucking cum", she says right as your cock pumps out that white milk straight into her womb. You pull out but have so much to give; some of it bursts right after and hits her tits.
"You drained me good, you fucking bitch", you tell her. "That's amazing", Eunbi says as she cleans your cock, satisfied that she won't have Jihyo as the only one bragging about the wonders of your cock. "Exactly what I needed", you say as you walk out of the room after two days of putting up an exhilarating breeding clinic for these two titcows. Eunbi fainted on the floor as you put your clothes back on and left. As you went back home, you deleted all your fancams from your drive, knowing you'd never be able to replicate the experiences. In your drive, only two sets survived: Jihyo in a bikini and Eunbi bouncing on that waterbomb festival. As if you ever missed them, you could take a look at those tits and remember these special times.
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Christian Woman
(König x Nun!Reader)
Word count: 6.4 k
Tags/warnings: Pining intensifies, religious despair intensifies, minor injuries, treatment of wounds, crying, enthusiastic kissing, König gets a few boners. 18+ for eventual smut in this story.
A/N: Don't tell me you wouldn't get horny scared too if you saw this tall guy suddenly emerging from the shadows in his full war gear :) There's a cute date night and a lot of angst in this chapter too, I tried to summon an actual plot here... As always, I need to explain why they’re bonking! But smut is coming, next and last chapter will be full of fluff and steamy first times (Reader is virgin!)
Part 2
You have a feeling that this is the last day you’ll see him.
The stranger from the Austrian Alps, the kindest mercenary you’ve ever met – the only mercenary you’ve ever met – the giant soldier who now carries a piece of your heart with him. You wonder if he even knows he owns it.
The morning prayers and mass are a chore and bring you no comfort, and the usual dawn bliss is gone. You find no delight in singing with your sisters, and withdrawing to your cell for solitary prayer feels like stepping back inside your own personal purgatory.
You’ve been in heaven and in hell for days now. Maybe since the moment you met him...
But at the same time, you know it must’ve been the Lord who brought you together. There must be a reason for God to make you two meet, you refuse to think it’s only because He wishes to tempt you. There must be a bigger plan; the connection, as sinful and carnal as it is, has to serve some higher purpose.
And you wonder if you’re going mad, because your most sinful thought is that you actually see God in him. It’s just your lower instincts speaking, a demon of some sort that tries to misguide you because no man is like Lord Jesus.
And yet, don’t they always preach that you meet Him in every person you meet? And that through you, other people meet God too…?
This reasoning feels much better. It solidifies the mercy you’ve longed for during the brief weeks you’ve known this man who brashly calls himself König. You want to believe that he carries a spark of the Divine in him, and that you hold a grain of the Virgin Mary’s compassion and love in you.
You decide to hold on to this thought: that you were meant to meet so that you could come to know God through each other. For in König, you see a suffering God, a crucified Christ who rises against evil by offering himself to the cruelty of men. Somehow, the image of him as a mortal man starts to twist into a divine, dark trooper, someone who battles the forces of the evil in this world.
And this reasoning leads you to think that it is only natural that you, a Sister of the Faith, have helped him find some rest and relief in the middle of his work. It’s pretty clear that König has found some solace in your company, and even if things have ventured into a forbidden area of low, simple lust, it’s not dark enough to taint the beauty and grace you've felt together. As long as you hold on to this purity, nothing can go wrong.
While praying for both of you that morning, you find yourself replaying the smiles and touches König has given you these past weeks. You know you will drown yourself in memories after he's gone because they are all you’ll ever have of him.
And they're more than enough.
Or at least they should be…
You feel a tiny dagger of guilt push into your heart, the place reserved for Christ, when you’re assigned to do some spiritual reading instead of helping out in the kitchen or organizing the small library. The appointed texts are about falling into temptation and sin, reminding you about the consequences of such actions. You read the passings with a heavy heart and then slip out to meet König, possibly for the last time.
You wear your everyday clothes to the café, and König says nothing about your sudden moral choice, only gives you another longing, enamored once-over. You keep him at arm’s length, both physically and emotionally, and the effects of this unexpected cold shower are immediate. The man doesn’t even try to disguise the sad, puppy-eyed stares he shoots your way.
You hate it that the bright, playful air of your meetings is gone, and your heart is tearing itself apart in your chest because the only thing you wanted was to spread joy into his world. Even the Lord seems disappointed in you being so cold-hearted, and you can’t bear to see His sadness and suffering in König’s eyes.
You get offered not one, but two coffees today, and a large piece of dark chocolate cake that tastes of pure sin. He talks about how he would love to write to you, but you tell him you can’t be in correspondence with a man who isn’t your brother or father. König isn’t even married, so it would only raise questions – you would find yourself reading spiritual texts about lust and sin until it drives you crazy.
“I’m leaving early tomorrow,” he finally reveals with a voice thick with sorrow. “Can I see you before I go...? One last time?”
“I’d love to, but… I’m sort of being watched,” you say, slowly coming out of your shell to make it clear that you’d want to spend the rest of your life with him, but you simply just can’t.
Your weak, apologetic look is like a dose of confidence shot through his veins because the face opposite of you brightens immediately. König’s whole posture gets a hopeful uplift.
“Just for a little walk...? To see what the city looks like in the evening?”
“I don’t know if I can make it… I have to work until six... And attend the evening prayer at seven. And then silence starts at eight…”
You’re wringing your hands under the table while you explain, hoping König will come up with a solution to this dilemma.
“We can go for a walk after silence, then,” he shrugs.
“I–I can’t just escape from the window.”
“...Why not?”
You look at König; he looks straight back.
The man’s serious about you sneaking out your window at night; he’s actually serious, even if there’s a dark, playful smile rising on his lips.
“I can help,” he grins.
Your heart cracks open, it shoots full of light only more and more with that smile. König doesn’t need to ram a door down and shoot his way through your chest; all he has to do is sneak inside your heart and take the place that belongs to God. You don’t even feel the difference as he makes himself at home.
Well, actually, you do... It’s like your Christ’s love and mercy have finally come to flesh and blood before you. They're materialized in the man sitting opposite of you, bouncing his knee excitedly and grinning like the most innocent little devil on Earth.
You find yourself whispering “Ok”, and the whole world shifts.
You take a step towards something forbidden but great, your whole heart starts to sing along with life. You haven’t even done the actual thing yet but you’re already filled with bubbling laughter and excitement. If only your friend could see you now, about to do things she probably did when she was fifteen...
But everything feels so right that it can’t be a sin – if it is, it just so happens to be the most natural, most divine thing to do too.
If this is the last day you’ll ever see him, you can surely steal a tiny moment for yourself and forget about rights and wrongs for a moment. Just forget about the rules, and live in the actual world for a few hours, breathe the worldly air, see what normal people do and pretend you’re one of them, for just one night.
…
You feel like Cinderella when picking clothes for the evening.
You rummage through the only closet in your room – during the time that should be spent in silent prayer before bed – and notice you still have your old jeans.
They’re light blue and still fit; actually, they fit more than well... You know that König’s eyes will be glued to your butt when you’re not looking.
You have completely forgotten how nice you look in jeans, and it’s the Devil talking, making you admire yourself in tight denim like this. You never cared about how you look before; you certainly never gave much thought to how men see you or if they’re checking out your butt or breasts. Now you’re grooming yourself like never before, trying to decide what to do with your hair as if your life depended on it.
You choose a simple, black t-shirt to pair with the jeans and not make it too obvious that you’re trying to flaunt yourself. It hugs your form but is otherwise plain, and for some people, your choice of clothing is probably their regular work outfit. To you, it feels like you’re about to go out to seduce everyone.
Everything’s so tight and earthly; everything’s so… there. Visible... Touchable.
Lord, have mercy on me. I know I’m weak. But please let me have this, just this once…
And König has seen you without makeup all this time, so what on earth has possessed you to lament the fact that you don’t own a single case of lipstick? You’d kill for a few sweeps of mascara, too, just to bat your lashes at a silly man.
It’s not a date, you remind yourself.
It’s not a date... It’s not a date. You’re just going to have a short walk with him.
And you fear that accepting König’s “help” was a mistake. If you get caught with a man on the convent perimeter, you’ll get your ass thoroughly whooped…
Can a man of his size even keep quiet?
He probably suggested it so that you wouldn’t chicken out of this. If König is at your window by 8 and there’s no sign of you, he’ll probably just come in, throw you on his shoulder and jump out. He knows where your window is located now, and surely has some questionable skills due to his profession, skills you know nothing about, but you’re still about to have a panic attack from pure excitement when the clock strikes 8.
You push the window ajar and settle on the sill to keep watch, gasping when you hear his familiar accent down below as soon as the window is open.
“Kätzchen...”
“König…?”
You peek down and meet his stupid, grinning face – God, he’s so happy to see you kept your promise. His eyes are shining, his fingers interlock to help you have something to place your foot on.
“Here, kitty, kitty…”
You could easily jump out the window without hurting yourself, but of course he wants to help you since you were so kind to tell him where he could come and "pick you up".
But to see that playful smile and hear him trying to coax you out like you’re some skittish little kitten…
Could a grown man get any more silly?
You wiggle yourself out the window, trying to ignore the fact that he’s probably staring at your butt, still grinning like crazy while you do it.
SupportING your entire weight like it’s no trouble at all, he helps you down. You’ve never been this close to him since you bumped into him: you have to take support from his shoulders as you search for a footing, and he scoops you in his arms the minute both your feet are safely on the ground.
“I knew you’d come,” he purrs with joy, and you place your hands on his chest – not to keep him at bay, but to touch him in a way that is as appropriate as possible when a man is hugging you like this.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” you whisper, still unsure if this is the best or the worst decision of your entire life.
“Kitty… Live a little, hmm?”
You have to crane your neck to look up at him – you’re not sure if you’re in the embrace of Jesus or Lucifer because the warmth of those eyes compare to the love of God, but they also make you weak and helpless. Whenever you’re with your sisters, the feeling is pure, pristine love, not a surge of complex emotions and thrill like it is with König.
“You’re a bad influence,” you breathe – König only laughs, and the grip around you tightens.
“My lady. You’re the one who climbed out the window.”
“Because someone would’ve probably thrown small rocks on it if I hadn’t…!”
“Natürlich. And if that didn’t work… A serenade or two. Do you like love songs?”
You look down at his chest, smiling, heart fluttering at the thought of a silly Austrian man serenading under your window. You have no trouble imagining him singing something syrupy in German, waking everyone up with his racket.
“You’re crazy, did you know that...?”
“Sure. They tell me that all the time at work. Aber du… Du bist süss.”
“...What’s that?”
His smile only widens as he takes in your lips, your neck, the tight shirt that finally gives him something more to look at.
“You’re cute.”
…
The whole evening is heavenly.
It’s everything you’ve ever wanted from a date and more.
He doesn’t take you for a short walk, oh no. He takes you out to eat, at some lively restaurant where they serve delicious, artisan, wood-fired pizzas. You have créme brûlée for dessert, and König gives you his strawberries when he notices you eat them first, but only on one condition: you have to let him feed them to you one by one.
He buys you a rose: a big, red, plump one. No man has ever bought you flowers before, and even if you love lush, abundant bouquets, the fact that he chose you a single red rose after you’ve spoken about the beauty of simplicity, doesn't escape you.
König hasn’t only listened to you these past few weeks: he gets you. And how symbolic is it that he chose a rose that’s also tied to all the mysteries of God?
You walk the streets with a flower in one hand and his palm in the other. It's a holy trinity of him and you and the Great Mystery, it’s passion and it’s thorns, it’s blood and beauty and pain, and you feel like he just gets you; he knows you through and through.
You pass by an outdoor bar with live music, and the place is so crowded that people are dancing on the streets. No cars honk as they slowly pass by the scene, the music and the laughing, dancing pairs make even the grumpiest passersby smile.
It shouldn’t be a surprise that König pulls you to him before you get to escape the scene. You’re drawn flush against his chest, hips colliding with his, hands finding each other in a slow sway that has never even seen the steps of Latin dances.
“Nuns are allowed to dance, no?”
He smiles dreamily, enveloped in the same sweet haze as you.
“Not with a man,” you correct, but don’t even bother to push him away. Instead, you let König guide his hand down your waist and draw you closer. If this isn't a date, you don't know what is...
“I can take the blame,” he says. “You can tell everybody it was me.”
“It doesn’t work that way,” you laugh.
“Why not?”
His eyes are glued to yours, making you warm all over, so much so that you feel like you’re burning from the neck up. You guide your stare down to his chest, then over to the quick heartbeat on his neck.
He's nervous, too... Your cruel soldier is nervous, and kind, and shy because he's pressed against you.
You rest your head there on his chest, watching the golden sunset far away, painting the rooftops with a genial glow. Your heart is made of molten gold, too, as you allow yourself find a home in his embrace.
“I can take your sins,” he promises above you. “Jesus did that too, right?”
“You’re not Jesus,” you smile against his shirt – black, always black...
“Are you sure? I would go to hell for you.”
Your dance comes to a halt as you swallow and lift your gaze. The smiles are gone now, both yours and his. He’s so close now he could touch your lips with his if he wanted to.
And he does want to.
You don’t shy away as he leans down to kiss you. It’s chaste at first, a slow exploration, but then he opens your mouth with his, demanding, hot, intoxicating. You melt in his arms, and he somehow supports you through it all, turning the dance into an embrace and the decent little kiss into a full French one.
It’s hot and wet and slow, so, so passionate that your knees are about to give in. You devour him back, feel how he grows hard against your stomach – the swelling erection makes you dizzy before you come to your senses, but only barely.
You break away an inch, panting into his mouth while he’s panting into yours. What a blessing that you don’t own any lipstick; both of your lips are red without it…
“This is–”
“Inappropriate?”
His voice is husky, and sends a flood of wetness down between your legs. Your heart is racing, but you can’t even note how terribly alive you are before he attacks your lips again.
The kiss is even more desperate than the first one, and the slow urgency is gone. His mouth leaves you without air, and then – he wraps his arms around you and picks you up from the ground like you weigh nothing. Your hands get squished somewhere between you, naturally coming to cup his face as you kiss him back.
It’s eager, pure lust, so powerful and needy that it scorches through your chest and ties your heartstrings into tight little knots, makes your brows knit together, too.
He grunts into your mouth, sensing you’re more than up for this after all. You let him see the full depth of your hunger and your lust, just waiting to be released and taken – made love to until you’re both sore and messy and limp.
God… This is better than God…
You hear whistles and whoos in the distance, some men yelling, “Let’s go!” and “Get a room” while they pass by. Realizing you’ve fallen into a dream trap of strong arms and needy lips about to depart tomorrow, you know it's something you could have had years ago, perhaps, but not anymore. You'll lose everything if you break your vows tonight: basically, you’ve already broken them, but no permanent damage has been done.
You can still turn back if you turn back now…
You push yourself away, push him away, heart clenching when you see his adoring, love-drunk, half-lidded stare.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper, fighting back tears as you come down from your high. “I just–I can’t…”
He breathes labouriously, still clutching you against him, holding you in the air like you’re the thing he has searched for his entire life and now, finally discovered… Only to be told that he now has to put it back where he found it.
You’re crying by the time he sets you down, and you have no heart or will to pull away. Instead, you bury your face in his chest and cry your fill in his shirt. It’s soon damp from your tears as König hugs and supports you through his own stoic heartbreak.
“I’m sorry... I’m sorry…”
You repeat it until you can’t repeat it anymore, bawling in his chest while the world around you continues to spin despite your heaven and hell, despite your vows, despite your stupid devotion. The world revolves like it always has, as you choose a crucified man over the one who’s flesh and blood and holds you through your pain.
“Kätzchen, don’t cry,” he pets your hair while you sniffle and tremble in his embrace. You know this is not the last time you will cry your heart out over him, but knowing it doesn't help you when he offers you his last, bittersweet comfort.
“It was a good dream while it lasted...”
…
The rose withers in your cell.
You turn it upside down and tie it to the curtain rod to prevent it from dropping its petals. It dries beautifully and keeps its bloodred colour, now reminding you of both Jesus and him.
There hasn’t been a word from König in months, and of course there hasn’t. You denied his wish to write you, and the dried rose is the only thing left of your time with him.
In the first weeks, it’s hard to keep up a charade. You show up to prayer, work and mass with red eyes, revealing to everyone that you’re going through a loss of some sort. Somewhere during the first week, the abbess summons you to meet her and you brace yourself for a scolding.
God knows you don’t need the rebuke, and when you close the door and turn to face the symbolic mother of the convent, you end up breaking into tears right in front of her.
“Whatever you were up to, my child, I am glad that it is over now,” she says with all the gentleness of the world.
“Me too,” your voice breaks, and when the abbess extends her hands, you go to her, fall to your knees, and have another heartwrenching cry with your face in her lap.
You’ve denied yourself love and mercy for days, expecting to be expelled or shamed or ridiculed, but mercy is what you’re offered now, even after you’ve sinned.
The abbess caresses your hair just as softly as König did just days ago, and the fact that her kind gesture reminds you of some silly, infatuated soldier, only makes the breakdown worse. You bawl like a little child who’s deprived of candy, and you don’t even have the strength to berate yourself for it.
“I hope you haven’t done anything irredeemable...?”
“No... Nothing happened,” you sob and look out of the rose window, desperate for sun while your head rests on a gentle but distant lap.
Nothing happened except the most sinful, beautiful, lustful kiss of your life... Nothing happened except that you saw this man every time you could, held hands with him, swam in his smiles and affection, and went to bed with thoughts inappropriate for any human being.
“The world tests us in many ways... But Lord never tests us. He only loves us.”
Something in that sentence finally quenches the neverending flow of tears. Your muscles start to relax, and you remember that this is the eternal truth: to surrender, over and over again, to a power far greater than you.
The abbess never asks for details about what you have done. She never tells you you have sinned; you don’t need to be told that. The punishment has been dealt already: whoever ties herself to this world and its temptations will suffer exactly like this when the passion and excitement ends. The key to escaping its grip is to simply let go first, once and for all, surrender to the love of God, and trust that everything fill fall into place eventually.
“You must offer your mind and body to work now,” the motherly voice speaks above you. “Work, time and prayer will ease your pain.”
…
Work, time and prayer do ease the pain.
They ease all pains, but it takes almost six months to stop thinking about him every hour of every day.
You’re proud of yourself when you find out one day that you haven’t thought about him at all. He just now crossed your mind when you remember how he used to smell: of salty seabreeze mixed with intoxicating musk, the scent of excitement and safety all in one.
You could almost swear you catch a whiff of that particular scent in the yard when you go and water the flowers one evening, but it can’t be: he’s gone, and there’s nothing you can do about it, nothing you even want to do about it because you already made your choice. This path leads you to greater peace of mind in the long run, and you know you made the right decision even if it hurt you and König.
Sunsets still remind you of him, the colour of rose and gold mixed with endings, but the memories are now laced with bittersweet love rather than blunt despair and pain. The times you spent with him are a collection of brief, blissful moments, and you treasure every single one of them in your heart. You still pray for him, not every day, but nearly every day. You touch the rose when the hurt reaches its peak, but the last time you did that was almost a week ago.
And you thought you had forgotten his scent, but apparently, you have not. In fact, it seems to drift to your nose again, which is odd because you’re outside, after all…
“Kätzchen.”
A whisper is hissed from the shadows just as you’re about to straighten and investigate, because either you’re going crazy or then there’s someone here who smells exactly like him.
You startle and almost drop the watering can, staring straight into the shadows under your window. The tallest man you’ve ever seen steps out from the dark in full combat gear, and while you can’t see his face because it’s covered with a draping black hood, you recognize it’s him simply from the way he moves.
“Don’t be afraid. It’s me,” he rasps and tries to straighten from the slightly hunched position he’s in, but immediately falls back, then slants to lean on the wall. His gear is dirty, and he holds the side of his stomach with one hand, the lively blue eyes either drunk or very very tired.
“Dear God… What happened to you?”
You abandon the watering can and rush to him; it’s useless to ask if he’s injured when, clearly, he’s trying to prevent himself from slumping to the ground.
He’s enormous and intimidating even when wounded, a soldier loaded with ammo and weapons and protective paddings and guards, wearing a hood and a helmet and a radio of some sort, his tactical gloves bloody and eyes droopy. The weapon by his side is almost half as tall as you, and God – is that a grenade strapped to his vest?
“I got compromised,” König looks down at the wound but doesn’t remove his hand. He looks so different, like another man entirely when he’s not dressed in his customary olive green pants and a casual black t-shirt. He seems even buffier now, even taller, so terrifying that you wonder if you ever even knew this man.
You must look like a frightened deer because König mistakes your horrified look as sweet, simple concern.
“Don’t worry... They have it much worse, I assure you,” he says with his usual grin – you can hear it from the way he says it that he’s smiling. But it’s so weary now, so exhausted and frail compared to his confident, playful laughs and that husky voice with which he spoke to you after your kiss.
“I came to ask for help,” he continues under his breath, wobbling even when leaning against a wall. “You’re the only one I can… trust.”
“Of course, anything. I will do anything I can.”
His eyes smile down at you from behind the executioner’s veil. It’s that same devoted stare you’ve been trying to dispel for months now. You give yourself a quick mental shake, then tell him to wait here while you go in and call for an ambulance.
König bounces off the wall and seizes your hand, telling you he can’t go to a hospital and that, if anything, he must avoid any kind of public places. You don’t ask any further questions, even if you know you’re in a pickle now, and not only because those glacial eyes are making your knees weak again. There’s nothing much you can do: he’s wounded and still in danger, saying he can’t trust anyone else. Of course you have to help him in any way you can. If he says it’s not safe, then you must help him get somewhere where it is safe.
And besides, aren’t you a nun? You’re supposed to help those in need.
So when he asks you if there are any motels or a bed & breakfast nearby, you say you know just the place.
It makes your heart bleed that König takes support from you while you slowly make your way down the street. A man of his size, a body trained to withstand whatever his job throws at him, seeking support from a frail little nun… It’s a joke, indeed, and a horrid one.
When you get to the small place run by a humble old man, you don’t know who to feel more sorry for: the elder behind the counter or König, desperately trying to stay on his feet.
“I mean no trouble,” he says while pushing an unnerving amount of money across the table. “I just need a place to rest.”
The receptionist’s eyes dart to you, then back to König, who still has what you suppose is a loaded rifle dangling by his waist. The safety is on, probably, but there are also knives and grenades strapped to his person, and with that hood, he mainly looks like a terrorist of some sort.
“She’s here to help. See...? Bride of Christ. Even less trouble than I am.”
You try to smile reassuringly as the man risks a better look at you now instead of being fixated on König or his weapons.
You must make an odd pair, a soldier and a nun... The old man probably has a ton of questions in his head right now.
“No shooting,” he says to you, but his words are directed at König.
“No shooting,” he promises. “No mess if no one knows we’re here. Ok...? You’ve never even seen us.”
The receptionist nods. Then he extends a trembling hand and takes the money, and hands out a key without taking any check-in information.
You go to König and help him up the small stairs and into his room paid with bloody money and a menacing appearance. The fitted carpet is old, and floral patterned, the room small and adorable and meant for visitors far more petite than König. The bedspread is old-fashioned and floral too and has never even seen blood, of that you are sure when König lays himself down with a grunt.
You spend the next minutes – or hours, you can’t tell – in a tunnel-visioned fog as you do exactly as he says.
You help him out of his gear and weapons and lay them aside quickly but gently, you cut his shirt with an ugly-looking knife, then get a watered towel for him to press against the wound. You rush back to his tactical vest and search for a first aid kit and some medicine, and start to treat his wounds per his advice.
The sun sets in the window, and you patch up your injured soldier with care, trusting his word when he says it’s only a flesh wound and that it looks far worse than it is.
“I should get shot more often,” he purrs when you’re cleaning the rest of the blood off his skin.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” you scold, trying to focus on your task and not the vast plates that make his chest. Or the thick abs, right there under your fingertips… Or the fact that he has incredibly narrow hips, and a luscious breath of dark hair leading from his navel down and underneath the waistband of his pants.
You suppose this is what your friend calls a happy trail...
And it does make you very happy.
You don’t dare to look beyond that because the pants he usually wears aren’t as tight as these, and you fear he’ll catch you checking out his junk in an attempt to see if your friend was correct about his size.
To your blessing – or your curse – you don’t even have to look straight at it to see he’s having an erection. You can actually see from the corner of your eye how König grows hard while you’re treating him – it’s right there, a robust tent that rises beside you while you concentrate on wiping off the blood.
“Pay no mind to that,” he says thickly and completely without shame. “It just happens… Can’t control it.”
He breathes a bit too heavy for someone who’s lying down, and you fear it’s because of the blood loss. But then you start to suspect it’s probably because all the remaining blood has gone between his legs… He doesn’t even try to tone down the heated, obsessive stares he shoots your way, and you suppose he’s either missed you very much, or then there’s a fever rising after all. You’re not sure if you’re glad or disappointed that the bullet didn’t scrape his leg instead.
“I missed you,” he says like he just read your thoughts. He whispers the sentence slowly and with purpose, saying it like a long-withheld secret.
“I missed you too,” you whisper back.
Gosh… Here you are, a silly little nun who’s tried to get over a crush for six months, crying after him at night and caressing his rose during the day. You’ve been petting a withering flower some mercenary gave you in hopes of getting into your pants, you’ve fawned over memories of a few smiles and a kiss, all the while the said mercenary has killed people for money and now got shot. He came here to work again, but never sent a message, he only came to see you when he was injured…
...And you’re glad he did. If a bullet was needed to bring him back to you, then you’re grateful for it, no matter how horrible it is.
“Did you ever… find someone?” You ask while keeping your gaze fixed on his navel instead of the raging bulge in his pants.
“Someone, who?”
“Someone to hold hands with.”
He gives a strained laugh. “Ah. No. No time for that.”
You swallow, and slowly guide your eyes to his.
“Are you still happy with your crucified man?”
Ouch.
“I… I don’t know.”
His brows knit together; you can see it even in the dim light of the table lamp, you can see it even if there’s some godforsaken black war paint all over his face under that hood.
There’s a distant hurt in his eyes before he blinks softly, slowly.
“I wrote to you, Braut Christi... Many times. Never sent the letters… They’re still in my room, at the base.”
Your heart skips a beat.
He hasn’t had “time” for women, yet has written you letters all these months. He’s written letters while you’ve caressed a rose….
You wonder if hearts can find each other, even through a distance, and if you’ve felt the urge to go to the flower he gave you at the same time König has gotten the desire to write another letter to you. It’s bittersweet, like this whole thing between you two, the mystery that both brings you together and rips you apart.
“I wish I hadn’t… I wish I...” you start, but can’t bring yourself to finish.
“Liebling. I should’ve sent them anyway.”
You go get rid of the bloodied paper towels before you start to cry in front of him.
God… You’re not only in a pickle, you’re neck-deep in trouble, and you only notice you forgot to wash your hands when you return to him.
He reaches for your hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. Peace settles in, even if there’s blood on your hands and the man you adore is lying next to you, patched up with the help of a first aid kit when he should be lying in a hospital, receiving treatment and care.
There’s a knife and a pistol tucked under the bedspread, next to his hand, and the fact that he’s still prepared to fight anyone who tries to come through that door underlines the fact that you two come from very different worlds. König is more than just a rose buying, coffee offering gentleman, he's more than just a silly guy who threatens to sing serenades under your window if you don’t come out to play with him.
You’re not sure if you’re more enamoured or scared.
“You’re an angel,” he rasps from the bed as you try to swallow the tears that refuse to go down.
“No I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
A teardrop falls on the innocent floral bedspread as you wish you were in this room as a married couple instead of an injured, horny soldier and a childish nun in love. Spending your honeymoon or something, getting some rest after an eventful day in town, choosing this absurd old Bed & Breakfast as your place to stay for the night.
You wish you were doing anything else than treating his wounds, lethal or not.
“Are you crying?”
His voice is gentler than you even remembered. Six months of despair have turned him into a dark, alluring trickster when he’s really just a man, a big, amazing, tender man who’s multifaceted, multitalented, and always kind.
He's about to fall asleep, and it’s no wonder. The events of the evening have left you drained, too. You kneel beside his bed, too tired to even sit on a chair, wondering if he’ll die from his wounds tonight or get hunted down by the people who still want him dead.
“I wish you would stop killing people... I wish you would stop getting killed.”
You must look silly, kneeling beside a giant soldier’s bed, crying and holding his hand between yours as if praying. But his eyes smile at you, and while you’d want nothing more than to see his face again, you realise you kind of like König this way. Masked and menacing and mean to his enemies, but stripped down to his soul when he’s with you.
“I wish you would stop praying... And start living,” he mutters gently.
“Praying helps sometimes,” you whisper.
In truth, you wish you’d start living, too. You always thought you were brave when you said ‘no’ to the world. Perhaps you were only running away from it…
The hand is warm but not feverish. His breaths start to even, and his lids get heavier; his thumb gives you a small caress before he drifts off to sleep.
“Perhaps that’s why I’m still here, Kätzchen.”
#könig x reader#könig x you#könig fanfiction#konig x reader#konig x you#könig cod#könig mw2#könig x fem reader
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good girl, gone bad
oneshot
word count: 6k
genre: established (secret) relationship
pairing: good girl y/n x bad boy jk
summary:
“I can’t believe anyone actually likes those stupid fucks. I mean, the hickeys, it’s like he wants everyone to know he actually fucks.”
You stay staring just a tad longer at the buff (sexy) jock, short enough so that Karina won’t notice. This time the boy proudly parading the trail of hickeys down his neck smiles at you and parts with a quick wave, some blonde hair boy from the group laughs at him and shakes his arm teasingly. You can’t help but to smile too, it’s barely there, but he’ll know. You decide to turn around and follow her steps. “Yeah totally, me either.”
What your best friend doesn’t know won’t kill her… right?
warnings: basically just pwp but plot went missing (oops!), swearing, smoker jk (i swear if anyone complains in my inbox i'll haunt you), explicit sexual content; jk has a huge dick ok, consensual recording/pictures, car sex (don't fuck in a car), hickeys, unprotected vaginal sex, dirty talk, spanking, squirting, breast play, blowjob, fingering, cunnilingus, come shot (on face), slut shaming (again lol), come tasting/swallowing, stomach bulge (my fault i love this one), choking, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, creampie
a.n: sorry for a late update hope yall dont mind, but i just wanna get rid of all my drafts they are PILING. lol forgive me for only always writing about jungkook, but he's so easy to write about. he breathes, and i instantly open my notes app (im not even joking). this has been sitting in my drafts since his LA trip (iykyk) it sparked a conversation and i wrote it. i want that man bad... and im lesbian :D
ANYWAYS enjoy and STREAM GOLDEN for our golden bunny <3
p.s: i'll probably come back to this couple but its a oneshot for now... but wouldn't no nut nov be fun with this jk?? everyone say yesss. ok bye.
—> m.list
—> welcome me on ao3 & twt
—-
“Ugh, what a piece of shit.”
Before you even get to ask who, the motorcycle roars back to life across the parking structure belonging to the very one and only, Jeon Jungkook. A group of college jocks crowd around the man. There’s a cigarette between his fingers, he’s not paying it much attention though. He's deep in conversation, laughing at something one of them said, clearly more invested in the joke than anything else around him.
As the laughter dies down, he looks over, eyes connecting while he brings the cigarette to his pierced lip, slowly inhaling the toxic fume. The terribly annoying (yet somehow sexy) tattooed jock on his loud motorcycle winks towards your direction, before selfishly exhaling that poisonous smoke into the air. Fuck, you really, really wanted to hate him too.
“Yuck.” Karina gags with a scrunch to her nose, turning a cold back to them and you’re grateful to her because you almost get stuck in his lustful gaze.
“Yeah… yuck.” You reply with no real meaning somehow managing to convince her you meant it.
“I hate him and his stupid friends. They are killing the Earth slowly and they don’t even give a fuck!” Karina argues in all her given glory and in her environmental science major mindset. “Plus those cancer sticks reek, why must the general public suffer because they can’t last thirty without them.”
Jungkook could last thirty without them. Way more than thirty when you were around him, especially when he was given something (or someone) to entertain himself with, but you couldn't say that aloud so the sudden thoughts stayed safe and sound in your head.
“No, no they don’t. But what can we do?” There’s a sigh and then you clear your throat. “Should we get going now?”
Your arm wraps around hers, gesturing the way back to campus with a swift wave where you both had been meaning to study given that classes finally started cramping in heavy assignments.
“Yes, please.” Karina is quick to sharply turn her heel and walk back towards the building. “I can’t believe anyone actually likes those stupid fucks. I mean, the hickeys, it’s like he wants everyone to know he actually fucks.”
You stay staring just a tad longer at the buff (sexy) jock, short enough so that Karina won’t notice. This time the boy proudly parading the trail of hickeys down his neck smiles at you and parts with a quick wave, some blonde hair boy from the group laughs at him and shakes his arm teasingly. You can’t help but to smile too, it’s barely there, but he’ll know. You decide to turn around and follow her steps. “Yeah totally, me either.”
What your best friend doesn’t know won’t kill her… right?
—-
“You taste disgusting.” There’s a muffled laugh pressed into your lips, as your tongues meet halfway, meeting each other’s lips in a bruising wet kiss. Your ass grinds roughly against his lap, groaning into your mouth while you bring your ass flush down, feeling his soft cock harden below you. His right hand grips your right ass cheek, jiggling it in his hand, before smacking it (with love, of course!).
“Yeah?” Jungkook smirks, bringing his mouth against your throat, sucking and licking everywhere there was space. He sneakily leaves little love bites behind even though he knows you’ll kill him for this later because you have somewhere to be after this. He even bites your ear lobe gently between his teeth, before he cockily whispers. “You love it though.”
The whimper that leaves your mouth should be illegal. It only drives Jungkook crazier.
Both hands find purchase on your ass now, spanking you once again in each cheek. Though Jungkook was a bit disappointed he wasn’t seeing your flushed bare cheeks on top of him, but he guesses he can settle for now. “You gonna let me fuck you now baby?”
He gropes your asscheeks without any hesitation, still leaving wet kisses buzzing onto your skin, stealing a quick kiss from your raw-bitten lips.
“Mm, only if you ask nicely.” You tease, dragging a finger along his jawline.
With this, Jungkook laughs, throwing his head back. Your hand comes to fist his hair, while he drops another wet smooch onto your lips. “You know I’d do anything for a piece of this ass angel.”
You smile into the kiss, grinding harder against his now– hard cock. You felt your folds leak of your own arousal. It was so undeniable. The attraction between you two, the desire to take each other apart, to be within each other’s arms. There was no place like Jungkook’s lap. Here you could stay forever.
“Imagine what people would say if they saw you like this baby.” Jungkook starts teasing, tugging your shirt off with no trouble. Your breasts catch his attention, noticing that you are wearing that black lingerie set he had bought for you last Valentine’s Day. “Fuck. Look at you baby.”
He squishes your breasts together, leaning up to kiss the uncovered tender flesh on both sides. You don’t even attempt to hold your moans back. “I– nghhh.”
“Did you expect to get fucked today princess? Hmm? Is this all for me?” Jungkook’s words work like magic, they drip off his sinful tongue like honey. You bring your body flush against his, burying your blushing face against his neck. “Don’t get shy on me baby, tell me. Did you wear this all for me?”
He purrs sweetly and you only nod, cheeks burning red.
It's not like you were embarrassed of him, no in fact, you were happy to announce that the college campus’ certified bad boy is all yours and has been for the past two years.
There was no exact moment to this, the attraction had always been there.
You had first officially met Jungkook in one of your general ed classes. Statistics, to be exact, which he would have one-hundred percent failed had it not been for you passing him the answers mid exams. It wasn’t like that to begin with of course, it took you some convincing. To be fair and to your excuse, it was so hard to say no to those beautiful big brown eyes.
At first, you assumed he was doing this all, acting lost and playing dumb, to get into your pants which he succeeded. However you had enough dignity left to make him work for it. Until you realized those secret smiles, stolen glances, and subtle hand holds were much more than just a silly game. You had fallen for his charm, and against everyone’s advice to stay far away from him, you fell in love with the (not so terrible) bad boy and let him take over your heart completely. It happened so randomly and so all at once. It was confusing, new, but most of all, liberating.
Being with Jungkook was so freeing and the thrill of being caught with him was so worth it. It didn’t matter what people thought of you or him, you both were willing to die on this hill of love.
Jungkook, too, had fallen quickly. How could he not? There was nothing to dislike and everything to love. Your pouty scolds, he looked forward to. The stolen glances across campus were his favorite, a secret only you and him held close to heart. There were times where your cheeks would flush pink, because he would steal kisses from you behind the campus library. You were seriously his favorite person ever.
“Jungkook stop! What if someone sees us?” You would whisper-shout, a pout would form against your will.
Jungkook would just kiss your worries away again and again and then say. “You’re the cutest little thing alive baby.”
“Are you trying to change the subject?” It was hard to speak between kisses, that and the fact that he would squish your cheeks together like the adorable boyfriend he was.
“I don’t know. Is it working?” His reply was cheeky and lips would start trailing down your neck and then you determined, yes. Yes, it is working. Fuck it all.
It’s safe to say, he was yours since the start of it all, as you were his. Wrapped in each other’s fingers before anyone had realized it, now you were inseparable.
“Answer me princess.” Jungkook pulls you back gently, observing your flushed face. “God, you’re so beautiful.”
Of course, this only makes you blush harder, but you do manage to admit. “Y-Yes… I wore this only for you. Always for you.”
Jungkook smiles, pecking your cheek. “Then I’m the luckiest man alive angel.”
He cradles your face, before leaning in to kiss you. This time, you guys take your time. Your mouths stay closed, taking the time to really feel the plushy feeling against your own and enjoy each other’s presence. You felt as if you were floating in clouds.
“Jungkook.” You mumble onto his lips and he hums, but that’s not enough so you call his name once more with intent. “Jungkook.”
He pulls back with a questioning look. “Yes, my love?”
“Can you please just fuck me already?” The words come out barely above a whisper, even after fucking you so many times, you could be so shy at times.
Jungkook breaks out into a bunny-like grin, holding back a stifled laugh. “So much for wanting to make me say please, look at who’s pleading now.”
“J-Jungkook…” Your face goes hot again and he laughs once more, patting your ass softly.
“Okay. Okay, my love. Enough teasing, I’ll fuck you since you asked so nicely baby.” Jungkook takes his sweet time taking off his own shirt, and pulling your skirt off. It was a bit tricker, given you were both in your car which was not fit for two people even in the backseat, but you guys always made it work.
You were still scared to ride to campus with him as much as he begged you to because it would blow your secret relationship, but fucking on campus has yet to be off-limits. Mainly because Jungkook fucks you all too well, and you aren’t one to say no to good dick (oops).
He attaches his mouth right above the bare skin of your left breast. He holds your tits in his hands, pushing them together, stuffing his face right between them. Jungkook makes sure to pay attention to both breasts (it’s only fair), rubbing your hard buds through the black lace which hardly covers them. You bite back a moan, feeling him rut up against your heat, his hard length pressing stiffly against you, your walls already clenching, desperate to feel him inside you.
His tattooed hand slips below, releasing the nipple he had been tugging on earlier. You feel the tip of his fingertips brush against your panties. “Fuck, you’re so wet baby. I can’t wait to be inside you.”
Surely by now, you were dripping onto the lace. His erection is still pressing against your inner thigh. “D-Don’t wait then.”
Your boyfriend smiles, bringing his lips to yours. “Behave. You’ll get some dick inside you soon.”
Like the brat you were, your eyes rolled back so used to being spoiled. He pays it no mind though because his tongue comes out again, licking your lips apart. Your tongues meet once more, this time you suck his tongue into your mouth, brushing it against the roof of your mouth. He taste quite bitter, it’s the cigarette from earlier, yet somehow and against all judgement, he tastes fucking delicious. Especially when a grunt slips from his throat, feeling you roll your barely covered folds against his fingers.
He allows this, putting more pressure with two fingers, feeling you drench his fingertips even through your panties. Jungkook pushes his tongue deeper into your mouth, spit mixing as he reciprocates the favor, sucking gently on your tongue. You tasted like the strawberries you had earlier for lunch and Jungkook groans, greedily swallowing the taste in your mouth.
What an innocent sweet little thing you were and he was about to ruin you all.
Cigarettes and strawberries.
Quite the pair.
You whine into his mouth, unable to hold back much longer. “Please, Jungkook…”
He smirks against your mouth. How much he loved the way you fell apart on his cock. Especially more, when he had barely had his hands on you and you were already begging for more. Jungkook pulls back, but not before you whine a soft “no.” He holds your cheeks in his palms, forcing you to look directly into his hazy eyes.
“Imagine if people knew baby.” His voice comes out more sultry, rough around the edges. His thumb carrasses your cheek, patting your mouth open. “How much of a slut you were for this dick.”
His words make you mewl (he knows how much you get off to this thought), he slowly eases two fingers into your mouth, holding your chin in place. You made sure to suck on them as he liked, your tongue coming flat against them.
Jungkook bucks his hips into yours, chest rising while he watches you suck, like the good girl you were. “Imagine if they really knew, baby? Such a sweet girl like you, with someone so dangerous and reckless like me. What would they say? Hmm?”
He pulls out his fingers, seeing them barely glisten under the light.
“I- I don’t know.” Your voice is dry and soft yet, you are incredibly horny.
“You don’t know? I have a few ideas.” Jungkook chuckles, hands brushing along your back. “Can this come off?”
He tugs your bra from behind and you hesitate to nod permission. “Good, I wanna watch them bounce when I finally fuck you.”
By now, you have given up resisting him, so you moan pathetically as he shreds your bra with ease and takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking the tender bud into his tongue, flicking it and placing it between his teeth. He tugs and licks the sting away, watching with hooded eyes as you squirm against him. Your face burns imagining the idea.
What if people knew? How would your friends react? They would surely be disappointed, Jungkook was good for nothing but trouble. Yet, he was perfect to you. You were willing to defend him from hell and back. Whatever it took for them to believe you.
Jungkook moves to the other bud, placing it into his mouth, cupping and gripping your breasts. His mouth was hot and heavy against your nipple, his tongue caressing the hard bud. He squeezes them one last time before letting them drop, watching them bounce gently against your chest. Yup, Jungkook was the luckiest man alive. There was nothing better than this moment right here.
Heat travels your body quickly, feeling your own chest rise, struggling to breathe in the steamy car. Your boyfriend looks down, communicating with his eyes instead of actually saying anything, your hands quickly move to his belt, tugging them off and throwing it anywhere else. Desperately, you unbuckle his jeans, harshly pulling his boxer down, just enough to watch his dick spring out. The flushed, wet length smacks against his stomach, watching as his abs clench at the sensation. If you stare any longer, you’ll start drooling. “So good for me angel.”
There’s no time to waste.
“Wanna suck you off.” You breathe out, voice filled with desire and lust, clearly it takes over because usually his girlfriend was much shyer and timid, but that all disappeared when Jungkook’s cock was present.
“Yeah?” Jungkook watches you drop on your knees, your pretty knees will for sure suffer the consequences of your horny choice, but there was no stopping this. He pats his thighs as he leans back to give you enough space. “I’m all yours, baby girl.”
Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek when he feels your warm mouth wrap around his dick. Your tongue comes out messily, practically salivating and dripping all over him. There’s probably not a single day that goes by that you aren’t sucking his dick, but it was quite the experience every damn time.
“F-Fuck, I wish you could see yourself.” He struggles a bit because the sight is fucking sinful and if people knew you like he did, they wouldn’t believe the person in front of him.
His personal little cockslut.
You pop off for a second, hand still wrapped around his length covered in your spit. “Yeah? Then take a picture for me, Kook.”
Double fuck.
When you first started dating Jungkook, you were against any pictures at all. After time passed and to his luck, you came around and you would let him take pictures, but only if he promised your face wasn’t in the frame. Now, his camera roll is covered with images of you and your blooming relationship. You didn’t care anymore about covering or blurring your face out. His camera roll consisted of just about everything, pictures of you sleeping peacefully against his chest as you would nap, videos of you laughing on the random adventures he would take you on, but never images of you nude. Never ever was he allowed anything that could probably incriminate you both, even if he would beg, ever-so sweetly. It seems like you came around after all. Bless you.
“Fuck, don’t talk to me like that princess, you have no idea what that does to me.” He’s never heard you sound so fucking sexy. Jungkook bites his lip, recovering his phone that had dropped earlier on the carpet. “You sure about this baby?”
“Yes.” Then you are back on his cock and he shudders, already snapping a few pictures. Your eyes looked up at the camera, making a show out of it all.
Jungkook tries controlling his heavy breathing but with a sinful tongue like yours, it’s impossible. “Can I record this princess, only if you’ll let me, of course.”
You take him deeper into your throat and nod furiously on his cock. You trusted him enough, you knew Jungkook could never hurt a single soul, unless they tried him. Point is, he would never do anything to break that trust so hell yeah, why not add more to his long collection.
“God, you are so perfect baby. Made for me and only me.” Jungkook’s voice is nothing short of possessiveness. He presses record, caressing your hair softly, almost petting you for your work like the good girl you were for him. “Imagine if they knew how well you take cock baby. How perfect those plump lips look around my dick. You’re like a dream come true princess, my personal cockslut.”
You moan around his length, loving the bitter taste on your tongue and Jungkook has to hold back from fucking your throat, though he thinks you’ll love it anyways.
“Can I fuck your throat?” His voice is raspy and you open your mouth wider, nodding so prettily with dick stuffed in your mouth. Jungkook is careful when placing your hair in a little makeshift ponytail for the meantime and as best as he can with one hand as he starts to thrust into your warm mouth. “So beautiful and all mine. Isn’t that right princess?”
You don’t get to reply, but the vibrations of your moans that manage to run through his cock answer for you and it almost makes him smile. What a good girl you were. Pretty things like you deserved to be spoiled and he couldn’t wait to give you the fucking world.
And was he fucking loving the show you were putting on for him becoming more needy and desperate on camera, your eyes rolled as he brutally used your throat for his liking.
Jungkook bites at his bottom lip as he begins to roll his hips with much more force, feeling your throat take him down with greed. “Fuck baby, your throat feels amazing. Taking me so good.”
He lets you go when he feels you tap his thigh and you gasp for air, tears threatening to leak down your face. “W-Want you to come on my face.”
Your voice is hoarse and his eyes widen at your sweet request.
“Aren’t you just perfect for me today baby. Just you wait, you’ll get the best dick of your entire lifetime.” Not that you would know since he was your first and he knows that, proudly carries that in his cocky ego, but you always believed him. No one could fuck you better than this, you were sure. You bat your eyes at his promise and he comes down to kiss you messily, the camera records jackshit, but it captures your whiny moans and the sound of your lips smacking against one another. He pulls off with one last kiss and adjusts the camera frame back towards you as he takes his hard length and slaps his swollen, wet dick along your cheek. “Open up princess, I’m really fucking close.”
You take him in with no hesitation and go to fucking work. Slurping and licking all over his length, your chin dripping with saliva, but you don’t even care anymore because his grunts and whines keep you going.
Every now and then you look up at the camera making sure you do your best to keep him coming back. You know he will probably rewatch this every night that you aren’t there with him. And your predictions are correct because Jungkook’s already planning on watching this tonight and jacking off to it while you are out with Karina doing God knows what. All he knows is his sweet girl will be doing something productive while he’ll be coming undone in your gracious honor.
“I’m close baby.” He groans sexily, and his breathing starts to become sharp. “Look up baby, right into the camera, gonna come all over that perfect fucking face.”
Doing as he says, you look up sucking him dry, your hands come to relieve what you can’t cover with your tongue. His hand pushes you off for a second. “Tongue out baby.”
He fucks his fist and it doesn’t take long before he squirts his load all over your face, grateful that most of it lands on your tongue, you swallow it all immediately, humming gracefully at the salty taste.
Jungkook’s eyes are blown out as he catches his breath and lets his dick flop back down against his thigh, you look like a fucking sin and he must be the Devil because he’s about to commit about thirty tonight. “Give me a second princess.”
He says between breaths as he stops recording with one last picture of your come-soiled face, still breathing heavily as he throws his phone on the floor again, thankful that he has something for later. You giggle against him and he almost awes as you throw your head against his bare thighs into a laughing fit. “Okay.”
He huffs a dry laugh and pulls you up. “Times up. Come here.”
Jungkook is quick to capture you in a sloppy kiss, not minding the leftover mess of come on your face, he doesn’t wanna mess up his masterpiece just yet. You soon grow desperate in his arms, but this time he doesn’t mess around.
“Lay down.” Your bare back lands on the seats and he shoves himself between your thighs. Again, it’s steamy and fucking cramped in your car, but you both couldn’t care any less right now.
His tongue hits your slit not bothering to move your matching panties, but the effect is almost the same. He licks a long strip watching you soil the silky lace mixing his spit with your own arousal.
You moan sweetly as your legs come apart letting him completely devour your heat. Jungkook pulls off, tugging your spoiled little black panties to the side and continues on with his mission. His tongue finds your clit and you swear you could come like this.
“R-Right there. Please.” Your boyfriend doesn’t let up either, eating your sweet pussy like it deserves. His tongue flicks your bud, building the sensation in your tummy. Jungkook sucks on your clit selfishly.
His chin is covered in your arousal. He’s humming and moaning deep inside your pussy, your juices stick onto his tongue like candy and he greedily swallows the treat whole.
“B-Baby.” Your voice is struggling like his was earlier, but it’s there. He lifts his face from your heat, eyes in a lust-filled trance. Jungkook knows he’s pussy-whipped, but at least he admits his problems!
“Yes, my baby.” Jungkook’s eyes are blown out and he looks just as wrecked as you are.
“C-Can I take a picture?” He almost gapes at your request, the amount of times you took him by surprise today. At this point, he would let you do anything, fuck his morality!
“Do whatever you want princess. Pictures, videos. I’m all yours.” He gives you his full consent and permission to do anything so you are quick to grab his phone (you’ll send them over to yourself later) and start snapping pictures while he dives back in for seconds.
Jungkook keeps your legs open while you are a whimpering mess above him, struggling to get the best picture. You have no idea how he was doing this himself, the pictures come out blurry as he continues to devour you as if it was his last meal.
He also puts on a show for the camera like you did so nicely earlier for him. Jungkoook’s eyes hood as he stares up, he even winks for the shot. If college didn’t ever work out for either of you, this would be something to look into. Good thing that was not the case, at least for you, his little straight A student.
“I’m g-gonna come.” This only makes your boyfriend go crazier between your folds. He drops eye-contact with the camera and instead solely focuses on that pretty pussy presented for him. Jungkook’s tongue is sin itself, not letting up once as more arousal drips out of you. He slowly teases a finger inside, building your orgasm quickly as he fucks you open with his middle finger. “I’m– nghh. Fuh-fuck!”
The sentence is never finished as you start to squirt onto his tongue, creating your own little masterpiece on his face. Jungkook has never swallowed anything down faster than right now and he’s loving every second of it. Completely pussy-whipped and all, but at least he’s happy!
Your boyfriend finally detaches himself from your heat and the sight is nearly adorable. His hair is now all fucked up and he’s a sticky mess everywhere (you are sure you look no better).
“Yum, I could do that all day.” Jungkook shamelessly says.
“Mm, I’m sure.” You say coming down from your own orgasm, he gives you a few seconds to breathe as you set his phone down again. Jungkook takes his shirt from the floor and wipes himself clean. He does the same but it’s no use, the come that landed on your face has dried up and he doesn’t wanna scrub it off and end up hurting your precious face.
Jungkook kisses your cheek affectionately as an apology.
“There’s dry come on my face right?” You start to scold him, but he smiles with all his teeth apologetically and you forgive him at that moment.
“Guilty.” He smirks, proud of his work, he thinks you truly haven't looked better.
Wrapping arms and legs around your boyfriend you whisper innocently. “I was promised dick of a lifetime, unless… unless you lied to me?”
Jungkook scrunches his nose cutely while he looks at your perfect pouty face, doe-eyes begging to be fucked. “I never lie, not to you at least.”
He makes you laugh and he detangles your legs from his waist. “Now let me focus, I have a reputation to uphold.”
There’s no laughing once two fingers press into you and you gasp at the invading feeling, but the stretch only burns for a while before it turns into pleasure and you are whimpering at his touch. “Fingers so deep.”
He smiles and you throw your head back. “Yeah? My dick goes even deeper baby, I’m just making sure you can take it.”
“I can take it.” You breathe out against his pink lips. “I was made for you.”
The taller’s eyes nearly eat you alive, fuck you were so sexy. “That you were baby. My perfect little cockslut.”
His fingers pull out of you brutally and you whine, but he kisses you roughly making you forget the loss. A hand wraps around your throat, squeezing it with purpose. You squirm in his hands and he pops off your lips.
Fingers coated with your arousal trace your lips and you take them in greedily, sucking your own juices off the tattooed fingers, moaning at the delicate taste, his other hand still locked around your throat.
“That’s my girl. All fucking mine.” You nod around his fingers and he finally lets go, gasping for fresh air. “‘M gonna fuck you now baby.”
Your legs fly open in response, letting him have his way with you.
“Do me a favor?” He asks while taking his hard length in his hand, jerking himself off while he awaits your response.
“What?” You hum, confusion written all over your face.
“Record this for me. I want you to see how I break you apart. How this pretty pussy makes a mess all over my dick. I want you to remember this fuck for the rest of your life.” His voice drops a few octaves and you can’t help but gasp and moan at his vulgar use of words.
You used to be innocent, at least, that’s what Jungkook used to think. In a way, he thinks you still are. Untouched and pure, only for his eyes and his hands to touch. Jungkook is honored that he was your first, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. He was gentle and took care of you every step of the way. It was like that until you were begging and pleading for more. Sweet then, and sweet now.
He’s created a little monster, but he knows that your heart is pure and that’s what he loves most about you.
“Okay, yes.” His phone is back in your hands and you click record, watching him line-up his cock. Jungkook groans as he disappears snuggly inside you. “Mmm.”
He lets you get used to the feeling and once he feels your breathing stabilize he starts to thrust himself with strong strokes inside you.
Like the first time, you are struggling with the phone because you can’t stop shivering and shaking, you feel him in your guts and recording is much harder than pictures because it lasts longer and you can't stay still for that long. Not with dick inside you.
“K-Kook. I— oh.” You stop to moan when he hits your g-spot and he continues ramming that same spot over and over. “I- I can’t. Hand’s shaking.”
Your sweet boyfriend grabs the phone and lets you settle yourself. “That’s okay princess, I got you. Just lay there, I’ll take care of you.”
He records himself ramming into you for a few minutes, watching himself disappear into you on camera. The taller one can't even believe this is his reality. How did this even happen and most of all with him of all people? He truly was the luckiest man alive!
“‘S deep, Kook.” He fondles one of your breasts as he keeps a harsh pace, rubbing the hard nub with his thumb.
“Yeah baby? Tell me where you feel it.” He whispers loving the way you tremble, your gaze struggling to keep up with his.
“Right here.” You touch right below your belly, palm flat against the feeling of his cock inside you. “So so deep.”
You mumble something else, but he doesn’t get to hear it because your high pitched moans drown everything out. He lets go of your breast watching them bounce as he continues to pound straight into your sweet spot.
The camera catches it all though. The mess between your thighs look just as delicious on film as they do in real time. The sounds you make, the squelching noise that is being created by his cock going deep inside you, and most of all, it captures your beautiful face as it comes apart.
He presses on your stomach right where your own palm rests and you strangle out a whine. “I- I can’t. T-Too much.”
“You can take it. Remember?” His dick tears through you from the inside and you start yelling when he increases his pace. He’s fucking you mercilessly now and you can’t control the sounds that escape. “You were made for me, princess.”
“Yes, yes, I am.” You sound beautiful, but you would kill him if you guys got caught now especially in the position you guys are in.
His firm hand finally comes off your stomach and instead two fingers go inside your mouth, muffling your screams and whines.
The car rocks back and forth. He’s sure people know what the fuck is going on, the windows are foggy as fuck, for fuck’s sake, but you would hate him much worse for not finishing you off.
“Mmff, don— stopff.” He nearly giggles as you struggle to speak, but he keeps his promise quite well. He fucks you ever harder and deeper, his cock will surely fall off after this, but it’s all worth it. He slams inside, bottoming out fully before pulling out and repeating the same steps. “Fuhh-uk.”
“You like that baby?” Jungkook rasps feeling you squeeze tightly around him, which only means one thing, you are really fucking close. “Gonna come all over my cock princess?”
“Mmff.” You are quick to nod and hum sweetly. He decides to pull his fingers out, spit dripping all over. “Yes, yes. Please, don’t stop. Harder Kook- ah!”
Jungkook almost forgets he’s recording and he centers the camera again, wanting to capture every last second of this. You are glistening all over, he’s made a complete mess of you, but he is no better. Jungkook is dripping sweat and yet, that doesn’t stop his mean and precise strokes against your velvet walls, stretching you in ways you didn’t even know were possible.
The final straw is when you feel his messy fingers start toying with your clit and you are coming once again all over your back seats and wetting his cock just how he likes it. Being a squirter had its own perks with a boyfriend like Jungkook because that meant he never stopped fucking you until you completely had nothing more to give.
Jungkook curses when he starts to see your orgasm trinkle out, he fucks you all through it though, feeling the water-like pressure against his slit. And it doesn’t take long before an orgasm catches up to him.
“Inside.” You plead with a pout, eyes completely blown out.
With one last curse Jungkook comes deep inside your walls. He catches his breath for a few moments before pulling out slowly, making sure to capture the dribble of his come which sadly hangs onto your hole. “Push it out for me princess.”
“Nooo, we’re gonna make a mess Kook.” Jungkook shakes his head, a smile on his face because a mess has already been made.
“I’ll clean it. Now, push it out baby.” You almost cover your face because you are sure you turned red, but you start to push his seed out of your hole and he’s tempted to fuck it back inside.
“Fuck. That’s it baby. Perfect comeslut. Isn’t that right?” He stops recording once he’s gotten the shot he wanted and he starts to wipe you down with his shirt, lucky enough that he has a back-up hoodie to cover him after he’s done.
“Yes, all yours.”
You both smile against each other’s lips before he whispers. “I love you princess.”
“I love you more.”
“Impossible baby.”
—-
JK❤️: hiiii 🙂
me: hi baby :)
everything okay?
JK❤️: marvelous 😇
i just came watching that video we took earlier ;))
me: baby! 😠
i'm out with karina!
can you not talk about sex for two seconds while im out
JK❤️: sure!
just came all over myself
totally wasn't watching our sextape back ;)))
me: nice talk jungkook.
JK❤️: come home soon~~
i miss you :((((
me: love you too lol
JK❤️: not more than me.
come home soon
im serious!!!
me: i'll see you later jungkook. ❤️
JK❤️: 😠😠😠
me: ❤️❤️❤️
#jungkook fanfic#bts fanfic#jungkook x reader#bts smut#jungkook smut#bts jungkook#bts x y/n#jungkook x y/n#jungkook x you
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angels like you can't fly down here with me (i'm everything they say i would be), megumi fushiguro ;
pairing megumi fushiguro x f!reader
word count 11k
synopsis people like him don't get happy endings but megumi fushiguro (foolishly) considers himself to be the exception — after all, he has you.
content contains yakuza au, childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining, breeding kink, slight daddy kink, attempted sa, minor violence & depictions of blood
author's note if ur on my ao3, you know this is from 2021!!! my writing has changed up since then, but i'm going to be releasing a revised version of this which will be rewritten and feature more scenes, more worldbuilding, more plot, relationship and character development, etc!! i figured releasing this on tumblr would help me gauge how worthwhile revision of this fic will be, so lmk if u like this au & want to see it become even better <3
Don’t do it.
He repeats the command inside his head again, and then one more time for good measure. (And then another time, just to drive the point across.)
He won’t — can’t; isn’t really allowed to — get into (another!) fight.
(Well, there’s a part of Megumi that knows that despite Gojo’s sing-songy warning of “now, now, Megumi, I don’t need a frequent visitor’s card for the principal’s office”, he doesn’t actually care. All he’s really concerned about — if the mild interest the reckless teenager turned legal guardian shows can even be called that — is whether or not Megumi wins.
And he does.
Every. Single. Time.)
For the most part, Megumi Fushiguro is fairly stoic in general, but to a concerning degree when one accounts for the fact that he’s only ten years old. For the odd three or so years he’s been under Gojo’s wing, Megumi’s mask of disinterest stopped becoming a mask and started becoming a part of him.
(Try as he might, Gojo’s not nearly as funny as he thinks he is. Maybe the connection between them might have been stronger if Gojo was a bit more responsible and if he was actually present, but he’s got his own shit to deal with. Besides, Gojo’s under the impression that what he’s doing isn’t cruel, but rather a means to an end. Megumi’s never going to be able to get stronger if he doesn’t learn how to survive on his own.
After all, being alone and having to fight to survive is the life people like them live.)
The older preteens in the area have a bad habit of picking on the younger students. Because the elementary and middle schools are so close together, the younger students who have the misfortune of walking alone tend to be targets for bullies in need of pocket change or a good laugh. Most of the time, they get both.
As of late, everyone’s favorite target happens to be Megumi Fushiguro, the boy with the messy black hair and indifferent attitude, even when confronted by boys two years his senior and almost a whole entire head taller than him.
Last week, Megumi gave the three older boys dumb enough to harass him for money bloody noses, bruised egos, and a thirst for revenge. That was the first (and supposed to be the last) time he got into a fight (for this school year, at least — something Gojo had told him, while winking). So, even when the trio is back together again, taunting him and trying to get him to take the first swing, Megumi keeps walking forward with his perpetual look of disinterest, those cold blue eyes of his staring straight at the path ahead of him, never paying any mind to the gangly bodies of the middle school boys who keep trying to block him from moving.
Don’t do it.
He tells himself this once more. You don’t want to have to inconvenience Gojo. Then, you’ll be stuck listening to him pretend to lecture you. You don’t like spending too much time with Gojo. He’ll make weird jokes.
The thought of having to deal with Gojo’s presence is enough to get Megumi to unclench his fists.
“Move.”
It’s the first thing he says to the group since they started following him after school. He tells the boy with the brown hair this. The brunet seems to be their ringleader of sorts, and even as nothing more than a ten year old child, Megumi knows that being twelve/thirteen and harassing little kids for sport is a sign of patheticness that will only grow and fester into something darker unless someone beats some sense into them. Obviously, they didn’t learn their lesson from last week.
“Huh? What the hell did ya just say, ya little brat?” The brown haired boy sneers, looking down at Megumi.
School has just let out, so there are dozens of kids of all ages walking down the sidewalk. They’re all aware of the situation happening, but everyone chooses to turn a blind eye to it. Partly because this is such a common occurrence that it just starts to become something that blends into the scenery, but also because there are some rumors surrounding the Fushiguro kid that’s enough to make anyone with a heart of gold reluctant to come to his rescue.
The main rumor circulating around the school is that Megumi Fushiguro has ties to the yakuza. Granted, most kids his age have no idea what the yakuza is, and even those who somewhat know only know through exaggerated definitions from their older siblings. Generally, everyone just accepts the fact that the yakuza is bad, and by default, Megumi Fushiguro must be bad too. Older siblings tell their younger siblings to avoid “that boy” at all costs, unless they want to end up with a finger cut off. Megumi’s classmates huddle together and conveniently choose to look everywhere else but at him when on the playground.
For anyone else, this might have been enough to cause some hurt feelings. Everyone thinks the boy must be some type of stupid to be so oblivious to the rumors centered around him, but the truth is this: Megumi is well aware of what people whisper about behind his back; he just doesn’t care enough to prove them wrong.
And they’re not wrong, anyway.
(For some parts of the rumors, at least.)
Because it’s true — Megumi does have ties to the yakuza. His father, who he can’t seem to attach neither a name nor a face to, must have done something bad. Something bad enough to have him cross paths with Satoru Gojo, the young head of the Gojo Clan, one of Tokyo’s most prominent crime families. It’s the same Gojo who decided to adopt both Megumi and his stepsister, Tsumiki, despite having nothing (so far) to gain from it. After all, why would a teenager willingly assign himself the responsibilities of caring for small children — one who resembles the man that tried to kill him and the other being an ill little girl confined to a hospital bed for who knows how long. All Gojo gets from this deal is a headache, bills, and more problems than necessary.
Megumi’s not really sure how the rumors started in the first place. He thinks it’s because kids his age are easily influenced and have a tendency to run wild with their imaginations. With the rising popularity of gangs from the high school students, this interest seems to have trickled all the way down to the elementary levels. Megumi certainly fits the description of their idea of someone from the yakuza: silent, secretive, scary.
(If they were a little bit older, maybe they would have just seen him as an introvert.)
No matter how ridiculous the rumors get, though, it doesn’t change the fact that the root of them is true: he is connected to the yakuza. After all, he’s being primed and prepped to be someone of value in the clan. Once you’re tied with the likes of them, you might as well just resign to the knot fate’s trapped you with. He’s learned quickly that the only thing harder than getting into the yakuza is getting out.
And because his sister’s and his life both depend on him doing as he’s told, getting out is a funny pipe dream at best and the Fushiguro siblings’ cause of death at worst.
“I told you to move. You’re blocking my way.” Megumi’s tone of voice betrays nothing. Annoyance, maybe, but he speaks flatly regardless of how he’s truly feeling. Gojo says it’s kinda creepy. Gojo also says that being a little creepy isn’t bad.
(Gojo should know; he’s a certified creep in Megumi’s eyes.)
“Oh — so the little boy can speak up.” The boy with blond hair laughs. It’s a nasally sound that grates Megumi’s ears.
He’s not an idiot. Megumi is well aware of the fact that no matter how much he feels like it isn’t true, he’s still just a little ten year old boy. He should be playing with the toy cars Gojo bought him, not worrying about the gritty future that lies ahead. But still, the phrase rubs him the wrong way.
Little boy.
He wasn’t so little when he kicked them down to his height before properly bashing their faces, now was he? Even now, he can feel the anger coming up. He clenches his fists, wondering if he’ll get suspended for fighting right next to school property.
“Leave him alone.”
Another voice appears, but not from any of the boys. No — this time, it’s coming from a little girl on the sidewalk across from theirs. Everyone involved turns to stare at the source of such a command and are greeted with the sight of you with a Hello Kitty backpack. You’ve got a frown on your face that doesn’t match the brightness of your pink outfit.
Megumi recognizes you instantly. You’re in the same class as him. You were in the same class as him last year, too. He tilts his head, trying to figure out what exactly it is you’re trying to accomplish here — and why.
He knows his social standing in the school. If he’s at the bottom, you’re right at the top. A beaming pillar of light, everyone flocks to you like moths after a flame. But you’re alone today, not surrounded by the usual crowd of boys and girls who are often vying for your attention. Seeing you alone enables him to see you more clearly, without all the distractions getting in his way.
You’re small. Shorter than him, and way shorter than the middle school boys. You’ve got a bow in your hair and brand new shoes on your feet. If anybody should be socially aware, it has to be you. Those at the top, Megumi knows, like to remind everyone of their placement. You shouldn’t be here. You should be ignoring him like he’s got the plague, just like everyone else.
All three of the boys start to laugh after sizing you up. The laughter only serves to make you even more irritated, but you can’t speak because one of them is already talking through his laughs.
“Don’t tell me. Is this your girlfriend?”
The group erupts into more laughter, and while Megumi’s expression remains the same as it’s been for the past few minutes, yours only shows your growing contempt.
“She’s no one.” Megumi throws you an odd look, one of neither annoyance nor gratitude for trying to help him out. He uses your presence as a distraction, and he manages to take a few more steps before one of the boys is yanking him back by his bookbag.
“Grab her.” One of the boys says, and the third boy, the one with the messy red hair, starts to cross the street.
Megumi watches as you stay right where you are. Are you stupid? Why won’t you run? The boy still has a solid grip on his bookbag, keeping him in place. He wonders if it’ll be a waste of his breath if he tells you to start running — you probably wouldn’t listen to him anyway.
But then Megumi figures out why you don’t look too frightened, because not even a second before the older boy manages to cross the street to your side of the sidewalk, a man in a suit is running towards you, a scowl on his face.
“You said you were going to the restroom, young lady!” The man scolds you while panting for breath. He surveys the scene, looking at you, and then the middle school boy by your side before turning his head and seeing Megumi in between the other two boys. “What’s going on? Is everything alright? Did they do anything to you?”
“No, Mr. Higashi. B-but—“ Your bottom lip starts to tremble, and even though Higashi is certain that the tears about to fall are fake, the situation itself looks serious enough to the point where he doesn’t call you out on it. “Th-these boys are being really mean.” You let out a high pitched wail that makes the boy let go of Megumi’s bookbag. “They just threatened to attack me and my friend out of nowhere.”
“Your father will be informed.” Higashi frowns, eyeing the guilty boys who look confused and a little shocked at this turn of events. “Mr. [Surname] certainly won’t be pleased to hear about this.”
The middle school boys pale when they hear the man name drop your family’s surname.
After all, it’s the same last name that’s engraved on plaques all over the school, thanking your family for the many donations they’ve received.
You enter into Megumi’s life that way: unexpectedly. He never thanked you for intervening, but it’s not like you did it for the thanks anyway. You did it, you tell him, because you figured he needed some help.
“I had it handled.” He tells you flatly. “Why are you even sitting here? Your friends keep staring at us.”
It’s true. Stories of what happened are already circulating around both schools, and while all your friends spent the whole entire day pestering you for the full story, you chose to keep quiet about the situation. And now, here you are, choosing to sit and eat lunch with Megumi, someone who also knows the true story of what went down but the only one people aren't brave enough to ask.
Your whole entire table of friends keep their heads huddled together as they go back and forth with each other, every one of them sparing glances at Megumi’s table. It makes the rice in his mouth taste stale. He should have just stayed in the classroom to eat, especially if he knew you would be bothering him.
“Gee, is that any way to treat a friend?” You huff, not at all actually annoyed with him.
“We’re not friends.”
“Too late. I told my dad we were.”
There has been one question on his mind ever since that incident. Just who exactly is your father? He’s not stupid; he knows that you must come from a wealthy family. If the buildings and auditorium named after your family isn’t enough proof, the fact that you always have the latest toys, the nicest shoes, the cutest stationery sets — that’s material proof of a spoiled princess.
You continue speaking, and as if you can read his mind, you’re already answering his question. “My daddy’s called a CEO. But the man you saw is Mr. Higashi. He takes care of me when dad’s away at work, and everything I do gets typed up in a report that dad sees every day. He wasn’t happy about what happened, so he says the boys will get in trouble. He told us not to worry, though.” You have a pleased smile on your face, waiting for Megumi to say something in reply.
“Okay.” He says, after a while. He only spoke because it seemed like you were waiting for him to. “It doesn’t mean we’re friends.”
“What’s so wrong about being friends with me?” You tilt your head. Everyone wants to be friends with you. And that’s before they even figure out that you live in a real life mansion with actual servants, and that sometimes you’re allowed to eat dessert for dinner. Even without the wealth, you still draw people in, whether it be with your bright smile or cheery attitude.
“Don’t you already have enough friends?” He can’t figure out what you could possibly want with him. Even though Gojo’s got the backing of the clan and enough funds to run the Tokyo underground with cash to spare, it’s not like Megumi is in a position to take advantage of it. Gojo hands him a thick wad of cash every week with a tip to “spend wisely, hehehehe”, and Megumi takes the tip to heart. A majority of the money sits saved in his bedroom, underneath a floorboard he spent a week trying to figure out how to loosen without anyone catching on. (Which was actually easy whenever he realized that nobody seems to really watch him to begin with.) So, he doesn’t look like he has money, and isn’t that what all rich kids want? To surround themselves with equally rich kids?
“I guess.” Your bubbly mood seems to dampen a bit at the mention of the other kids. They like you, sure. But they like each other a lot more. The gap between you and the other kids isn’t noticeable at first, but the novelty of having an endless supply of company has lost its luster. Meanwhile, the glamor of your life only keeps the hoards of “friends” to grow as the days go by. It’s always “let’s have a sleepover at [Names]’s!” or “[Name], we have to go to your house because you have the best toys!”. You wonder if they like you, or the shiny things that they get when they’re with you. “But, it’s not like youhave any friends.”
“I don’t need any.” The response is quick — instinctual. Gojo, even if not the greatest guardian by any parental standards, still presses Megumi to have a proper (or, as proper as it can be) childhood.
(“You know, I don’t care if you bring any friends over. Just make sure no one ends up accidentally getting shot, okay, Megumi?”
Yeah, because that’s definitely gonna push him towards throwing as many parties as he wants.)
People in his position don’t have many friends. It’s hard to, he assumes, because of all the killings and betrayals and power plays.
(And, he’ll soon learn that it hurts a lot less to lose an enemy than it does a friend.)
“Hmm. Okay.”
But you don’t get up from your seat, and he doesn’t tell you to move.
The next day, you’re carrying two bento boxes. The lunches are prepared for you by world class chefs and everything is done in a rather cutesy manner to entice you into not wasting your food. The fruit is cut into pretty shapes, the food has picks with animals on them, and everything is colorful and to your own personal tastes.
You take a seat next to him once again. He looks up for a second, sees that it’s you, and returns back to his meal that looks pitiful in comparison. Leftover rice and some cold meat. You think it’s the same thing he had last time.
“For you.” You slide the second bento you had requested towards him before opening up your own.
“What’s this for?”
“For you to eat, silly.”
“...How much?”
“Huh? All of it, I guess? If you don’t like something, tell me, and I’ll request something different tomorrow.” You don’t quite understand what he’s asking you.
“No. How much does it cost? I'll bring you the money tomorrow.”
“Why would it cost you?” Now you’re really confused.
Didn’t anyone ever teach you that everything comes attached with a price? If it’s not money you want, it must be something else. At least, if Megumi’s judgments are right. (And they usually are.)
“Fushiguro, I brought you this because I want you to eat well and grow strong.”
He wonders what rice shaped like Hello Kitty has to do with his strength.
“Also, so the next time people give you or me trouble, you can fight them, okay?”
Oh. So it’s protection you want. He contemplates what he thinks your request is before popping a piece of food into his mouth. A meal made with care — he can taste the thought that’s been put into it. Shoving his old lunch to the side, he quickly starts eating at the one you brought him.
Okay. So maybe he does accept your offer.
“Meguuuumi.” You whine out his name, messing up the navy sheets of his bed while he sits at his desk, trying to finish his application for university. “I’m bored.”
“Good. Go to your own house then, and leave me alone.”
“You’re so mean to me.” You sigh, turning your head so that half of your face is pressed against his pillow. The scent of his shampoo still sticks to the fabric, and you subconsciously inhale the scent some more. It’s familiar and reminds you of him, your favorite person in the world.
No one believes you when you tell them that Megumi is your best friend. No one wants to believe that it’s true. After all, the two of you look more like a shoujo manga trope than an actual pair of best friends. The cold, inexpressive dark haired male lead with a secretive past he doesn’t want anyone to know about and the bright, bubbly, ball of energy that is constantly clinging to his side. It’s like looking at night and day with you two.
“And yet, you’re still always here.”
You’re still by his side, even when the two of you reached middle school and high school together, and he spent a majority of his time starting (and finishing) fights.
(“Get off of him!” You screamed, yanking on the collar of one of the boys who happened to be trying to grab Megumi from behind. You don’t have the same amount of strength as them, but everyone at this point knows who you are and who exactly your father is. No matter what the origin of the fight is won’t matter; all that matters is that the precious daughter of one of Tokyo’s richest CEOs got caught in it, and that’s enough to get everyone involved into some deep shit.
Immediately, the boy scampers off, and the other boy Megumi was punching into the squeaky clean floors of the hallway begins to thrash around wildly, eyes wide at the sudden sight of you. Seeing you coming from behind Megumi is like watching the sun peek through a dozen storm clouds.
Megumi gives him one last punch, not nearly as satisfied as he thought he would be. Honestly, getting into fights with low level delinquents is beneath him. It’s not just his knuckles and clothes that are getting dirty; by feeding into the school’s image that he’s this young, violent yakuza heir, he’s dirtying the prestige Gojo claims is oh so important.
“Megumi.” He straightens up at the sound of your voice, which usually sounds so sweet, especially when it’s directed towards him. Instead, you have an uncharacteristic frown on your face and you sound… mad. “Let’s go.”
You’ve got a hand wrapped around his wrist, and people part when they spot the two of you making a hasty exit. The teachers aren’t bold enough to cause a scene with you, and the students know both you and Megumi are practically untouchable — one being the spoiled brat daughter of a rich and powerful businessman, the other, a ticking time bomb with ties to the yakuza.
You don’t stop walking until the two of you are in a secluded courtyard at the school. No one goes here, mainly because it’s in such an inconvenient location and there’s nothing but trees and weeds over growing it. The two of you found it within your first week of being here, and ever since then, it’s become your designated spot to avoid prying eyes.
“I thought you were over stupid fights. You told me yourself that they weren’t the type of people worth beating up.” You scold him, forcing him to take a seat on the bench that creaks under his weight. You make a noise as you inspect the drying blood on his knuckles.
If an outsider were to look at the scene before them, they would gape at the unbecoming sight of you on your knees, in between his legs, too close for a duo who claims to be “just good friends”. But there’s nothing inherently dirty in your thoughts. Instead, you’re staring thoughtfully at his hands, inspecting the minor damage done to them.
Megumi swallows hard as he looks down on you. He shouldn’t be feeling like this — you’re his best friend, his only friend. The only person who’s by his side. If you could read in his mind, there’s no doubt that you would be recoiling away from him in disgust…)
You’re still by his side, even when he told you the truth about himself after waiting years to see if you were truly his friend or not.
(“The rumors—” He starts to say, but you shush him, rolling over on your side to face him. The two of you are lying on the grass in your massive backyard, trying to spot a shooting star that’s supposed to be passing by at any second now.
“I don’t care about that.” You tell him. Middle school was a bitch to deal with, mainly because as everyone was in the process of growing up and “maturing”, so did the rumors they spread. Now, the two of you are halfway through your first week of high school. A new school, a couple of new classmates, and new rumors surrounding the odd pair.
“If I told you the rumors about me being someone you should avoid were true, would you be mad?” He’s lying on his back, still staring up at the night sky. He’s not turning to face you, almost as if he’s scared to look at you.
“Yes.” You answer without any hesitation. “At the person who’s spreading that around.” You clarify, poking him on his side to lighten the somber mood he’s setting. “You’re the only real friend I’ve had in forever, Megumi. I don’t think what anyone says about you would change that.”
“What if I did something bad?” Like kill a person. What then? What would you think of him if he told you the full truth: that Gojo told him that he can’t shield Megumi from the dirtier aspects of this type of life. That he’s spent hours after school, hours after hanging out with you and pretending to be a normal teenager, learning how to assemble, disassemble, and then reassemble a gun. That his target practice isn’t glass bottles lined up in a row or sheets printed out with human bodies. What happens if he told you that his target practice was low level scum from rival yakuza clans that Gojo couldn’t be bothered to kill himself?
“Mmm. How bad are we talking? Like, lied to me when you said my Christmas outfit looked good but half my ass was practically exposed bad or committing a felony bad?”
“What if I told you… that I really was a yakuza heir.”
The silence is palpable and especially soul crushing to Megumi as he waits for your reply.
“It wouldn’t matter to me, Megumi.” You say. You know that this isn’t just some type of hypothetical question he’s asking for fun. From his odd living situation to the intense nature of him in general to the fact that he knows practically everything about you, but you barely know the full extent of his childhood traumas despite growing up alongside him, you know deep in your heart that there has to be something going on with him. Something dark enough to harbor stories about him.
“Are you sure about that?”
You reach for his hand in the dark, finding it without really needing to look. He’s not one that’s prone to initiating physical contact, but you found out that he doesn’t really mind when you reach for him first.
“You can’t get rid of me, no matter how crazy or fucked up you think your life is.” You squeeze his hand, still staring at him.
You don’t notice the shooting star flying past the night sky, but Megumi is looking right at it. He knows what he’s wishing for.
For your words to be true.)
You’re still by his side, even when he brought you to his sister’s bedside. She’s sick, afflicted with something no one knows, not even the private doctors that Gojo’s spent millions on. She was still conscious, albeit confined to her bed when the two of you first met, but she’s been in a coma ever since the last year of middle school. You were by his side as he broke down about the news. It was the first time you’ve ever seen him cry.
So, no matter how much it may seem like he’s pushing you away, you don’t budge. For someone smaller than him and definitely weaker, you’re awfully resilient. And while people make the occasional joke, telling you to “blink twice if you need help”, you don’t pay any attention to them. If only they knew the truth: that you’ve got Megumi Fushiguro, heir to a massive yakuza clan, wrapped around your dainty finger.
He’s so whipped that he found himself asking Gojo for a rare favor.
(“College?” Gojo rubs the back of his neck, staring at Megumi. “I mean, I guess it’ll be good for you. Meet a wild party girl, take her to your dorm room, tame her—”
“An education is the whole point of attending, you know.” Megumi interrupts him before Gojo can jump into a story highlighting all of his sexual endeavors with college girls back in the day.
“Eh. I guess.” But then a grin lights up the feature of the man who [kind of/by definition] raised him. “But y’know what I know for a fact.” He wiggles his eyebrows, his glasses slipping down his nose as he tilts his head downwards. “You wanna follow [Name].”)
It doesn’t really matter if he’s not good enough to get into the university you’ve already received an early acceptance for. Because Gojo tries to make up for being an absent father figure, he fills in those empty spaces with cold, hard cash. All it takes is one nice donation, and Megumi’s wherever he wants to be.
Where he wants to be, he realizes, is to be by your side. Wherever you go, he’ll gladly follow. Funnily enough, despite the two vastly different backgrounds the both of you come from, you both have similar means of getting what you want.
Your father had already looked over the list of universities you had in mind, and all you could do was excitedly squeal and start rambling the moment the acceptance letters came in the mail. Despite the fact that your father’s physically absent from your life most of the time, he still tries to show he cares in the things he does for you. If paying off over half a dozen major universities in order to make you happy is something he has to do, he’ll do it without batting an eye.
It’s the same thing on Megumi’s end. Granted, Gojo’s means are more along the lines of using money as a lubricant and then death as an inevitable. Money talks, a gunshot to the head silences. Nobody can accuse anyone of taking bribes if said accused person is in a grave six feet under.
Sometimes, Megumi wonders how you’re just so oblivious to the fortunate circumstances in your life. You chalk up a lot of your father’s wishes as just “good luck”. In school, you’re placed on a pedestal, revered as some goddess-like, otherworldly being. People are practically tripping over themselves, running towards you for a crumb of your attention. Anyone sane would gladly wield this power and use it for all its worth. Not you, though. Not you, who’s kind and considerate and completely clean from the corruptness that plagues everyone else.
Megumi knows good and well that he’s not a hero — couldn’t be farther from it, if he’s being honest. He doesn’t feel a moral obligation to go out and rid the world of all evil. (It’d be hypocritical, he thinks, considering the fact that he’s most likely belonging under the evil category himself.) From a young age, he’s already known and come to terms with his fate. He’s going to train and learn from the best, and eventually, he will succeed as head of the clan. That is his purpose. That right there is the reason why he’s still alive today. That is why he can find himself sitting at his desk, submitting an application that’s already guaranteed to be followed up with an acceptance letter, ready to pretend for four more years that he’s normal.
“D’you think college will be fun?” You ask him, making yourself comfortable in his bed.
“No.”
You laugh at that. You like Megumi for a lot of reasons, and his honesty is one of them. Despite the fact that he likes to keep most of the darker details of his life to himself, you know that he would never lie to you. In a world full of people who are constantly lying, it gets tiring trying to figure out who’s real and who’s fake. It doesn’t help that you want to believe in everyone either. If you didn’t have Megumi loyally staying by your side all this time, you doubt you would have made it this far in your life without anyone taking advantage of you and your kindness.
“My dad said I can finally get a boyfriend when I go to college.” You say this fact so casually that Megumi almost — almost — gets fooled into believing that this is not a cause for concern. Almost.
“Oh.” He’s at a loss for words. He knows that it’s inevitable; that one day, you’ll find a guy you like and want to get closer to him. He knows that you’re not always going to be by his side, and he knows that it’s going to happen because he’ll have to push you away eventually. The older he gets, the deeper he’s burying himself into his grave. He doesn’t want you to get caught in the crossfire.
It’s not like boys have never tried approaching you before. People have spent years thinking that you and Megumi were a couple, and then after finding out from you that the two of you are nothing more than “best friends”, boys were still hesitant to talk to you. The glare Megumi would give them from behind your shoulder acted as a strong enough deterrent.
“I know. Now the only problem is finding a guy who’ll actually wanna date me.”
“They all will.” The words leave his mouth faster than he can even think about them. He’s not wrong, though. Every time the two of you are out in public together, he sees people shooting quick glances at you, at your ass, at your bright smile. The looks they give are predatory, dangerous, even. If it’s not your looks, it’s your shining personality that draws them all in. And if that’s not good enough, there’s always the enormous wealth attached to your last name. That’s the key to getting them to stay.
“You can be so sweet sometimes, you know that?” You giggle, glad that he’s still typing away on his laptop. If he were to look at you right now, he would see that you’re reacting way too positively to such a lackluster compliment. It’s not like he listed reasons on why anyone would ever want to date you, so he probably could just be complimenting you to make you happy.
(That’s just the excuse you’re going with. You know your best friend — that means you know that he would never say something he doesn’t truly think or believe.)
There’s a secret you’ve been keeping from him. A secret so big that you think you might’ve been keeping it from yourself, too. Something so big that your body simply can’t contain it any longer.
You like Megumi.
Of course you do. You keep telling the whole world what great friends the two of you are. You talk to him about your dad all the time (which must mean he’s important, because you rarely get to speak to your dad, so you have to choose your topics of conversation wiseley). You trust him more than you trust yourself. Ever since middle school, you’ve been telling yourself that you liking Megumi isn’t anything to be ashamed or confused about. You like him because he’s your friend, and you’re supposed to like your friends.
And then you came to terms with the fact that you like Megumi beyond the borders of friendship.
It starts with you seeing him the way other girls must see him. You’re not blind, you know. It’s obvious that Megumi is far from ugly. If he wasn’t so intimidating, you’re sure he would have had his fair share of confessions, too. Megumi’s pretty, although calling him a pretty boy wouldn’t do his character justice. He’s got lashes people pay extensions for theirs to look like, and the prettiest dark blue eyes you’ve ever seen, and his hair, which he doesn’t put forth any type of effort in, always looks good whereas the same hairstyle would look messy on anyone else.
It’s not just his looks, though. Even if you look like the type of person who would judge others based on such shallow standards, you didn’t approach Megumi simply because he’s attractive. He’s… interesting. He’s got this reputation for being a delinquent, and maybe all the fights on his school record prove it, but he’s surprisingly respectful. He’s the type of guy who gets up from his seat to let an eldery woman have it. He loves animals. He’s honest and sweet despite his seemingly stoic nature, and he’s so oblivious to just how good he is.
Maybe it’s because he’s so blinded by the light that is you. You, with your cutesy bento boxes that used to be made by your team of personal chefs but are now made with your own manicured hands. You, with that bright smile of yours that he wants to always see because god — he thinks he would be willing to destroy the whole world if something were to ever make you so upset. You’re kind and beautiful and everything people write love songs about. You’re so good, and he’s nothing like you.
He’s nothing like you, because he highly doubts that you spend your time fantasizing about him like he does with you. It’s wrong, he thinks. And dirty, and disgusting, and vile. You’d hate him, he’s sure of it, if you knew what he thinks about late at night. That he sits on his bed with his cock pulled out from his shorts, leaking with precum as he strokes himself to the thought of you. Do you not see him as any other guy? Despite your lack of experience, surely you know just how dirty boys’ minds can be? You’ve got to be conscious of the fact that he’s any other guy, right? So, why — why — do you always roll around in his sheets, letting your sweet perfume stick to his sheets. Your tiny tops and skirts are always clinging tight to your body, and you never feel the need to readjust your clothing when it rides up. Do you not see him trying his hardest to look you in the eyes when the two of you are talking, despite the tantalizing sight of your skirt bunching up, exposing the smooth skin of your thighs?
Little does Megumi know (and if you have your way, he’ll never find out), you spend nights in your room, whining and trying to stuff your cunt with the same fingers that painstakingly made him his lunch. He’s your best friend since childhood. He looks at you like you’re an angel, and you don’t want to destroy that image by revealing just how dirty you really are. How every time he gets so close to you, you subconsciously bring your thighs together, trying to rub them together in a poor attempt to relieve some tension. He’d be disgusted with you, you’re sure of it. Maybe even betrayed.
Besides, it would never work out. Megumi doesn’t see you the way you see him. He might look at you with a soft look you’ve never seen him give anyone else, but that’s because you’re his only friend. It’s not like he’s harboring any hidden feelings for you, and just because you’re so convinced that there’s no one better than Megumi around, it doesn’t exactly mean that you won’t feel this way about anyone else.
Megumi’s got a rather monotone cadence with his voice, so you’re not too surprised by his seemingly unethusiatic response to you saying you’re now allowed to date. Still — there’s a slight pang of disappointment when you realize that he doesn’t sound jealous at the prospect of you dating someone else.
You decide right then and there that the healthiest thing to do now is to just bury your feelings for him deep inside your heart, to tightly pack in all those pesky feelings and store them away so you can make room to allow others to fill in his space.
gumi <3: where are you?
gumi <3: i’m feeling tired and i have an assignment due tomorrow. i’m going home.
gumi <3: you know i wouldn’t leave without you. cmon [name]. let’s leave now
Megumi frowns at his phone. He can clearly see that all his messages are being delivered, not to mention that he’s already called you twice and has been sent to voicemail twice. He can be patient when he wants to be, but right now, he’s getting a little pissed.
You know that he doesn’t like parties, and you know that he doesn’t hang out with the same people you do. He also knows that you don’t even really like most of the people you surround yourself with, so whyyou suddenly decided to do a 180 and reestablish your throne as the head of the social pyramid, he doesn’t know.
Lately, things between the two of you have been a little… weird. Sometimes he catches you staring at him with a sad smile on your face; one that you immediately replace with your usual one when you realize he’s looking right at you. Despite him asking you if everything’s okay, you vehemently deny that there’s anything wrong, and you’re quick to change the subject.
He thinks he’s losing his best friend, his only friend. And maybe it only hurts because he’s grown used to your presence in his life. Maybe it hurts because you’re his friend. But he knows the truth. It hurts because he’s losing you.
Did he do something wrong? Did he accidentally somehow reveal the extent of his feelings for you? Did you suddenly decide that maybe associating with someone like him isn’t something you’re meant for? Do you…
Do you hate him now?
It doesn’t matter. Maybe it does, but not right now. Right now, he’s more focused on getting the hell out of this stuffy ass living room, filled to the brim with drunken young adults and people he couldn’t care less about. The only person that matters right now is you, and he’s on a mission to find your location.
He’s got this ominous feeling in his gut, like something bad is about to happen. He’s Megumi Fushiguro, for fuck’s sake, so bad things have a habit of following him wherever he goes. But still, he’s made a personal promise to himself that no matter how bad things get, you’ll never get caught in the crossfire. He’s willing to die to keep that vow.
If you don’t reply to him, you most likely have a good reason. He doesn’t want to be clingy, is pretty damn certain he doesn’t even have a right to be, but he’s still worried about you. He’s pushing past the wall of sweaty bodies, trying to catch a glimpse of your hair color, the waft of your perfume, the familiarity of your laugh, but he can’t catch a single crumb of you anywhere.
You’re nowhere in sight, and he’s immediately filled with dread.
He yanks a guy who’s coming from upstairs.
“Ow, man, what the fuc—”
“Is anyone else up there?” Most of the time, the parties are restricted to just the first floor, with the unspoken rule being that only the upstairs should be used for people trying to fuck or to use the bathroom (or, people trying to use the bathroom to fuck). You’re not anywhere downstairs, and if you were simply using the restroom, you would have been back down here by now.
“Shit, I don’t fucking know.” The guy squints at Megumi, as if trying to see if he knows him or not. With the way his expression pales, Megumi comes to the conclusion that the guy might not really know him, but he knows ofhim. Gojo says that with the right reputation, the two concepts are practically synonymous. “But I heard a guy ‘n a girl, I think, walk past the bathroom. I don’t know who, though!”
Megumi lets go of the boy’s shirt, and he’s quick to run off before Megumi can give him any more wrinkles in his shirt — or do something much worse.
He’s thinking. Odds are, it’s probably not even you. With so many people roaming around this house, it’s likely that he just missed your presence. Your phone could have died, so that explains why he can’t reach you.
He finds himself heading up the stairs anyway.
It’s fine. He tells himself. You’re fine. You’re okay. Nobody would dare to touch a single hair on your head unless they want to suffer directly at the hands of Megumi. People around campus call him your guard dog, and it’s not necessarily a nickname he hates.
The atmosphere upstairs is vastly different from the one downstairs. There are no lights turned on, and all the doors to the rooms are closed. He hears a flush coming from one end, and out walks a tipsy girl who’s staggering a bit. There are only so many doors to choose from, and he doesn’t really want to accidentally walk in on two people trying to have sex, but the need to confirm your safety outweighs any possible embarrassment he may suffer from, so he continues on his mission.
The first two rooms are revealed to be empty, leaving just one more. Megumi takes a deep breath before trying to turn the handle.
It’s locked.
His gut is telling him something isn’t right, but he’s forcing himself to chalk it all up to paranoia. He curses under his breath, wondering why he even let you out of his sights for a single second.
Because he didn’t want to seem clingy. Because he didn’t want you to have any more reasons to keep on pushing him away.
He decides to call you one more time, and as he’s listening to the dial tone, he hears a faint sound coming from the other side of the locked door.
It’s a phone ringing.
He presses his ear against the door, trying to make out any more sounds he possibly can. Is it still a coincidence when the phone stops ringing right as Megumi is greeted with your voicemail message of “sorry, I can’t come to the phone right now, but you probably should’ve just texted me!”
Without the annoying dial tone distracting him, Megumi can listen a little more clearly to what’s going on. There’s… there’s someone crying.
The voices are muffled, but he can make out bits and pieces of what’s being said.
“—fuck up… crying like a damn bitch… want this.”
He’s heard enough before he’s banging his shoulder against the door.
“OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!” He’s screaming, hitting it again. There’s a chance, the voice of reason inside of him is saying, that it’s not you that’s crying behind that door. Even if it wasn’t, Megumi still wouldn’t have stood by idly. But instinct is telling him that it is you, and that’s enough cause for him to bang his shoulder against the door once again. He hears a scream, and a male voice cursing.
The force of his body banding against it is enough to have the door really test the strength of its lock. Megumi’s never been the bulkiest person in the world, but he’s still got some defined muscle to him. The door is creaking, almost bending to his will, but he fumbles in the dark for the gun safely tucked away by his side.
It’s a gift from Gojo. To speed up the process when something needs to be done quick is what Gojo said it was for. He’s never used it in such close proximity to you, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
No silencer. He forgot the fucking silencer. With the deep bass rumbling from the speakers, he doubts anyone would be able to hear the gun go off anyway. He aims for the handle, pulling back the safety, and fires once, then twice. With a foot aimed at the door, he kicks at it, pleased to see the way the abused door finally bends to his will.
The open door reveals a scene that makes Megumi see red: you, with tear stained cheeks and your clothes bunched up and strewn across the floor with a guy Megumi vaguely recognizes as someone sharing the same Econ class as the two of you — Mahito.
“You fucking bastard.” Megumi practically lunges forward, tossing his gun to the side. He doesn’t see reason, is numb to common sense at this moment. All he feels is the need to hurt this fucker. To make him bleed, to have him on the brink of death, to see the light of life leave his dark eyes.
Mahito is fast, but even he couldn’t imagine the speed that Megumi would possess when pushed to the edge. This is different from the fights you’ve witnessed during school. This is something entirelydifferent.
The first punch has Mahito wincing in pain. The second, third, and fourth ones are thrown back to back, and there’s no time given to recover, no chance to gain the upper hand. He’s falling down, and Megumi’s on top of him, drawing back his fist only to slam it against him again and againand again.
Megumi knows he’s got something fucked up inside of his head — what other explanation is there to reason with why he finds this bloody violence so satisfying? His knuckles are bloody, and he can’t tell where Mahito’s blood starts and where his own ends. There’s a wild grin on his face, one that you’ve never seen before. You’re not sure if it’s a trick of the shadows, but the feral expression on Megumi’s face transforms him from your loyal best friend to something monstrous.
“‘Gumi, st-stop.” The words stumble out of your mouth as hiccups, but you don’t miss the way Megumi’s raised arm freezes in its higher position before he slowly brings it back down to his side. He’s breathing deeply, and all is silent in the room.
As if the sound of your cries is enough to snap him out of his daze, it’s almost scary how fast his mood shifts. Just a second ago, he was hellbent on beating Mahito to a bloody pulp, and now the darkness drowning those blue eyes of his is practically gone. He makes his way to the bed, each step hurried but still hesitant. Do you even want to be near him right now?
You answer his question with some more small sobs. “‘Gumi, I—”
“Shh, it’s okay, [Name].” He’s picking up your clothes from the floor, ready to help you get dressed. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
“Megumi.” His name seems to be the only thing you’re capable of saying right now. After he helps you get dressed, he’s thrown off guard when you cling to him, with your arms wrapped around his neck and your wet cheeks pressed against his shoulder.
The moment the two of you are exiting the room, both of you far too wrapped up with the other to pay him any mind, Mahito lets out a laugh before groaning at the pain Megumi inflicted.
The two of you don’t know what you just started, but no worries — Mahito has the means of ending it.
It’s only a matter of time.
You’re too good to be true.
You won’t listen to him when he tells you this (you never do), but he swears you’re a fucking angel or something otherwordly. There’s no other possible explanation for just how breathtakingly beautiful you are, or how you’re the only thing consuming his every thought. Despite the fact that all the blood on his hands has reached an amount that he’s sure he’ll never truly be able to wash it all off, you don’t shy away from his touch. As a matter of fact, it seems like you’re keening for it.
“‘Gumi.” You mewl out, sticking out your tongue to lap at the precum on Megumi’s thumb.
You’re well aware of just how dangerous your boyfriend (the title makes you giddy every time you refer to him as that) is, but you know him. You know that the hands of a killer are the hands of your lover, and most of the time, you have a hard time believing the awful things he’s had to do with them. Because right now, those hands that are meant to be weapons are handling you with care, touching you so gently, you would have thought you were made of glass and ready to shatter.
“Look at you, all spread out for me. What happened to my precious, shy little girl, huh?” He removes the hand that was cradling your face back to his cock, stroking his length, the saliva from your tongue acting as a minor lubricant. The first time he fucked you was the first time you’ve ever had sex with anyone ever, and it had been the start of an addiction. You love Megumi. You love everything about him, from his character to his tenacity, all the way down to his cock, with its red tip that’s sticky with pre and leaking out more as he stares down at the obscene position you’re in.
Your face feels warm as he stares down at you, his eyes darkened with a mix of love and lust that you don’t think you’ll ever get used to being on the receiving end of.
“Need you, need you so bad, please, ‘Gumi—” You’re staring up at him, giving him your best doe eyes.
“Fuck.” Just the sight of you beneath him, completely bending to his will, whining out for him to pretty please fuck you has him ready to cum right on the fucking spot. He’s pressing the tip in, his breathing faltering just the slightest as the warmth you provide envelopes the most sensitive part of him, nearly causing him to lose all self control right then and there.
You let out a cry as he pushes himself deeper in you, making himself at home in your gummy walls, one hand gripping your hip and the other holding onto the headboard.
“You feel so good for me, baby, shit.” He hisses, waiting for you to adjust, impatient but willing to bear it if it means it’ll feel better for you in the long run. After all, there’s nothing he wouldn’t do, nothing he wouldn’t endure, just to ensure your happiness.
“Mm — ah — please.” There are still tears welling up in your eyes — precious girl, he hasn’t even began to properly fuck you, and you’re already tearing up? The sight of you completely and willingly at his mercy is enough to get him to start rutting his hips against yours, the satisfying sound of skin slapping against skin resounding and bouncing against the walls of his bedroom that is starting to feel more like the both of yours.
“Y’feel so fuckin’ good for me, baby.” He groans, his pace quickening, the thrusts getting sharper and rougher with every roll of his hips. You’re powerless against his strength, and this type of easy submission feels so natural, feels so good, when it’s him that’s taking advantage of it. “You’ve got the sweetest pussy, y’know that? I could fuck you forever.”
His praise goes through one ear and out the other with you, but your heart swells up to twice its size. Even if you can’t focus on the words all too clearly, you’re still aware that Megumi’s probably praising you. You can come to this conclusion because he’s always praising you. He’s always so sweet, so gentle, so loving — when it comes to you, that is.
“Hng — daddy!” You can’t help but let out a high pitched moan as he hits that sweet spot inside of you that makes you buck your hips up.
There’s no way you don’t know what you’re doing. Clenching around his cock like that, making those cute little noises that he can’t help but want to hear all the time, and then calling him that.
“Daddy, daddy, daddy.”
Forget igniting something within him; you whining for him, calling him something that’s the root cause of all his childhood traumas… That’s like dousing him with gasoline and tossing a lighter at him. He’s going to burn through all his energy, channel all this dark, feral energy, and use you as the one unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end.
He fucks into you so deeply that if your eyes weren’t shut tight, there’s no doubt that you wouldn’t see the unmistakable shape of his cock outlined against your tummy. The headboard is banging against the wall, and the squelching sounds of him roughly thrusting in and out of your sopping cunt is so lewd and so dirty that if you had any room to harbor a single ounce of shame, you would be downright embarrassed.
“How about you make me a daddy, huh? How about I fuck a baby in you?” He won’t lie and say it’s not something that’s never crossed his mind. The thought of your stomach round with a life the two of you created is enough to get him to continue with this near-brutal pace he’s set forth. “Doesn’t it sound nice, baby? My baby giving me a baby, what—” He grits his teeth as you tighten up. “—a fucking dream.”
“Baby. Wanna have your babies.” You cry out, tears spilling out and wetting your cheeks as your arms find their way to his neck and broad shoulders, trying to pull him in closer. The heat building up from within you feels like you’re about to fucking explode. “‘Gumi, I love you, Iloveyoupleasegimmeababy—'' Your words are practically unintelligible as you slur them out, the words sticking together as you cum all over his cock, all that pleasure that has been building up now physically tangible, if the white ring encasing his cock every time he pulls out is evidence.
“Fuck! You feel so fucking good. Always so fuckin’ tight.” He’s reaching his own end, and you’re just lying there, trying to recover from such an intense orgasm but unable to as your too sensitive walls clench around the constant intrusion of his cock. Spurred by your little love confession and his mind imagining his daydreams coming true — you, as his cute little housewife, taking care of the kids the two of you made together — he finally shoves himself as deep as he physically can, making sure that as he cums, nothing will spill out.
“‘Gumi.” You whisper, your head resting against his chest, listening to the beat of his heart. “Did you mean it when you said you wanted to start a family?”
He’s silent for a minute.
“I wouldn’t mind starting a family with you.” And he means it. He knows this life isn’t one meant for children — look at how he turned out, for god’s sake — but he thinks that for you, he can do anything. Even make a family work out. As long as it’s what you want, he doesn’t mind how hard it may be.
You snuggle closer to him, burying your face in the warmth of his chest. “Good.” You mumble. “I wanna start a family with you, too.”
Megumi feels… at peace. Like he’s got the whole entire world in the palm of his hands. He wraps his arms around you, and realizes that no — right now, he’s got his world right in his arms.
Mahito likes to play with his food before he devours them whole.
Humans are just so… vulnerable. Even the coldest people have a heart; it’s only a matter of whether or not they find someone warm enough to defrost it. Megumi Fushiguro, for example, likes to walk around this world, acting indifferent and claiming to follow his own moral conduct, only to give himself the biggest weakness he could possibly harbor: you.
He still remembers that party. He still remembers the way you were dressed like a little slut, completely oblivious (or maybe you were just acting coy) to the wolfish stares all the guys were giving you. He had the same class as you. Seen the way you clung to Gojo’s charity case, as if the ground would swallow Megumi whole if you let go of him. You’re cute, and you scream naive virgin, and that’s precisely why Mahito wanted to take you to that bedroom and have his way with you.
And then, your infamous little guard dog bared his teeth and pummeled him into the hardwood of a stranger’s bedroom floor.
Grudges are cancerous. If you don’t deal with it right away, it develops into something worse. It takes over all your internal organs, ruining you ‘til the only thing you can focus on is getting revenge. And the longer you wait, the more vengeful you get. It doesn’t become a matter of ruined pride or reestablishing honor — it becomes about inflicting the most pain one possibly can. It becomes about suffering — about transferring your pain, your anguish, onto someone else.
Mahito isn’t the type to hold grudges, but for Megumi, he’ll make a special exception. He wants to see just how well trained the boy is; after all, he’s been taken under the wing and supervision of Satoru Gojo, the myth himself. Surely, his student must be nearly as skilled, right?
It’s been a long game of watching and waiting on Mahito’s end. A lot of lurking in the shadows and gathering intel. It’s a lot more boring than he anticipated, but today’s the day where all his hard work finally comes to fruition. Megumi Fushiguro is going to regret ever interfering with him that one fateful night. The burning humiliation he’s felt has long since fizzled out, but since he’s already been set on the path of orchestrating Megumi’s destruction, he figures it only makes sense to see it through. You only can let go of a grudge after you get your proper revenge.
He’s been leaving Megumi all sort of taunting, teasing threats any chance he gets. Mahito’s got nothing but disgraced yakuza members on his side; those who have committed acts vile enough to get them kicked out of what is essentially a group of criminals. He knows how to be twisted — hell, twisted might be the only thing he knows how to be.
Killing girls that resemble you and sending him the photos. Taking videos of you when you’re out in public alone. Leaving voicemails for Megumi, ones that leave him pale faced and unable to breathe as he listens to how Mahito wants to tortue you.
Megumi’s been on edge for the past few months, unable to explain to you why. It’s why you don’t understand why Megumi won’t let you go back to your car, even though you left your phone in there.
“I’ll go. Or, we can go together.”
“You have to wait for our coffee! And besides, I don’t even know where I left my phone. It might not even be in the car, but you’ll just waste your time searching for it if it’s not there.”
“So then why do you have to go look for it?”
“Because it’s my phone? Also, I reeeeeallly don’t wanna have to wait for our coffee, so I figured looking for my phone in the car would kill some time.” You give him that sweet smile of yours that he loves so much before waving him goodbye. “I’ll be back by the time our order is ready, pinky promise!”
At the end of the day, it’s all luck. Mahito realizes this as you happily skip out of the crowded cafe, headed towards your car to search for your phone. He doesn’t know why you’re returning back to your car, doesn’t even really care. All he knows and all he cares about is that you’re headed there alone. And while you’ve been alone plenty of times, he’s never had an opportunity quite like this one. A chance to finally detonate the bomb that’s been lying dormant underneath your car, ready to be activated at the press of a button. He could’ve killed you plenty of times already, but it’s not enough to merely murder you. He wants to make it a spectacle, sure, but he also only cares about one audience member watching: Megumi.
From where he’s hiding, blending in with the rest of the customers from the bakery across the street, he’s got a decent enough view of Megumi, who’s sitting by the glass windows, watching you with furrowed brows as you unlock the car door.
Mahito can’t help the cruel smile that spreads across his face as pushes the remote connected to the bomb.
Nobody expects to hear the loud, resounding boom of something exploding. The surrounding cars parked next to yours have their alarms going off like crazy; it’s nothing but high pitched, blaring noises blending together to create a disruptive harmony. People are screaming, someone is on the line with emergency services, and—
—your precious car is set aflame, reduced to a burning pile of scrap metal no salvage yard will take.
In this moment, Megumi Fushiguro’s world crumbles to ashes.
#megumi fushiguro x you#megumi fushiguro x reader#megumi fushiguro x y/n#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#megumi x reader#angst#fluff#one shot#drabble#smut#megumi smut#jjk smut#jjk imagines#yakuza au#THIS IS SO OLD IM CRYING#like rereading it... omg what was i ON???
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Missed target (2) - Azriel
Brief summary in case you're new: Azriel tries to flirt with Elain but everything he does goes straight to you, a stranger. Now, Azriel wants to repeat all those steps and make it right. Prepare your dentist appointment because it's so SWEET IT WILL ROT YOUR TEETH
Plot: the story about how Azriel and you fell in love, taking all the right steps.
Missed target 1
The Suriel 1
Foreigners believed Velaris to be a sunny, cloudless place where trees grew magically and flowers bloomed on their own. But that was far from the truth.
That morning, the sky awoke covered by dark, looming clouds that vaccinated a storm. People looked refugee on their homes, and the streets of Velaris were empty by the time the firsts drop landed. Only few late customers rushed to finish their shopping – and the Suriel, who stared at his usual prey from a dark alley.
By then, the shadows greeted him like an old friend. They swarmed his feet and tangled between his fingers. No matter how distracting their touch was, he didn’t tear his eyes away from their master.
The shadowsinger was taking cover from the rain under a tiny awning, his wings stretched to widen the covered space. Under his left one, was a new figure – one the Suriel had known for a while, in his dreams, in his visions, but hadn’t met before. Your shape looked ridiculously small compared to the Illyrian warrior, who took every inch of space possible.
Your arms were wrapped tightly around his middle, face looking up at him with pure adoration. His wing tucked you closer when the rain poured harder, and you chuckled. The Suriel watched the male’s eyes widen at the sound, an easy smile drawing on his lips.
Lighting illumined the street and you only laughed harder, Azriel joining you. The Suriel couldn’t understand the joke, couldn’t share the connection of your bond. But he could feel what two mated hearts felt like, and he smiled content.
Planned date
Three dresses, all different, lay on your bed while you stared at them. The first one was dark blue, long and sleeveless. The second one, a rosy pink, had low sleeves that wrapped around the hands, and a cut under the right knee. Third one was bright green, decorated with roots and leaves in a darker tone.
You brushed your tongue through your lower lip deep in thinking. They all were beautiful, and probably appreciated by your date. But while you had never cared too much about make-up and Friday nights, you were panicking a little.
Maybe a lot.
Azriel had sent you a mysterious note that morning, asking you to be ready by eight. He hadn’t said anything else, just to choose something elegant, and that had led you to an afternoon of rushing and not getting anything done.
Your make-up was ready, your hair was ready. Only ten minutes before eight and you couldn’t decide what dress you wanted.
Blue was his color, but while the weeks following the snapping bond had been intense, maybe it was too soon. Rosy pink was sweet and innocent, not like the thoughts you had anytime Azriel was in your presence. And while you liked the green one, maybe it was too much.
You decided to close your eyes and let a random tune decided for you.
Rosy pink, it was.
Just when you were strapping your first shoe, a soft knock on your door broke the panicked silence of your house. You stumbled out your bedroom into the hallway while putting on the second one, and opened the door rather abruptly.
“Hello” Azriel gave you a side-smile, not saying anything about the rush.
“Hi”
His hazel eyes traveled down to your feet and back to your eyes, and if that look wasn’t enough to make your knees tremble, a pink dust covered his tanned cheeks. His wings fluttered behind him slightly, and he cleared his throat. With his hands behind his back and his messy locks, Azriel looked like a boy. And that made some of the tension in your shoulder drop.
“May I take a beautiful lady for dinner?” he offered you his arm. “You look… perfect”
“You look like a dinner itself”
His laugh resonated through the whole neighborhood, and your nerves died with it. Indeed, you would have eaten Azriel up right there and then. He was wearing a shirt with the first two buttons undone, letting you peek at the tattoos underneath.
The night was cold enough for you to drop your coat around, but Azriel was carrying his in his free arm. He had rolled up the sleeves and you barely resisted the urge of running your hands through his muscles. The hard, warm muscles you could feel under your grip, and that had you matching his blush.
You closed the door behind you and matched your step with his, not knowing where he was taking you.
It was the first time you two went out together. After a night that ended way too quickly where you could only stare at your new mate, he had accompanied you in silence to your house. Since then, you had shared more letters and ‘accidentals’ meetings when you would proposedly walk in front of his house.
Walking down the streets by his arm, not knowing if you were allowed to call it your first date, threatened to eat you alive.
“How can I be sure you’re not about to murder me?” you asked trying to light the awkward mood.
“If I were, I wouldn’t be leaving my fingertips all over you” he answered with a faint chuckle. “And I wouldn’t be wearing the only nice shirt I have”
“I would be more convinced if you let me know where we are going”
“But then I would ruin the surprise” Azriel looked down and met your eyes. Then, after a beat of silence, talked again. “How was your day?”
Just like that, you fell into an easy conversation with him. Through the letters, you were used to telling him about pointless things – he knew where you worked, who were your friends, how you lived. You knew about his family too, about his line of work and even some of his past. You had even met Cassian two days ago when him and Azriel had stumbled upon you in the market.
The male had been delighted to meet you, apparently aware of the missed attempts of courting Elain that led Azriel to you. He was loud, a little intrusive and funny, and you already liked him.
The streets were crowded that night, although you were surprised to notice that people kept his distance when you were with him. Azriel didn’t seem to think about it, just listened to you with rapt attention, so you ignored them too. However, you did use the opportunity to walk a tad closer to him, just two inches – enough to feel his body heat and scene, that had your head spinning for a second.
You walked down the streets until you reached your destination, that you wouldn’t have noticed had him not stopped.
Neon lights shone above the restaurant, and you could read the sign Silver Spoon. You stared at the name and Azriel stared at you with a hopeful smile. Feeling his feelings through the bond still felt strange, not knowing where that emotion came from, but it didn’t shake your grounding like the first time.
You instantly felt bad when you watched and felt his hope, waiting for you to say something. Staring once more at the restaurant, you could only admire the elegance of it. You had never been taken on a date somewhere so nice, and the fact that Azriel expected something from you threatened to break the fantasy.
“It’s… lovely” you smiled softly at him, trying not to let him down.
“You don’t remember, right?”
When you didn’t answer, Azriel only smiled wider and opened the door for you. You instantly missed his warmth, and as soon as the door closed behind you, you wasted no time in returning to the original position. Azriel didn’t say anything else as he asked for his reservation and you were led to a table by the window. From there, you could see a beautiful garden illuminated faintly, almost like a dream.
Azriel was still silent as he pulled your chair back and you thanked him quietly. Before you could wonder if he was disappointed or not, he took his own chair and moved it next to you. You stared as he moved his plate, vase and napkin, and when he was finished, he sat in his new seat.
From there, your knees brushed slightly. Your hands found each other in the middle as you searched for his presence and him for yours. Like a trained dance, you let them rest on his thigh, fingers fitting like a match made by fate.
Soft music resonated in the restaurant while other couples dinned not too far away. In the middle of the table, a rose sweetened the atmosphere.
“This is where we first met” Azriel started. “I had been dumped and I was about to leave in a horrible mood. And then, this stranger comes up to me smelling so divine that I couldn’t think about anything else. She looked so good, so perfect, that I looked like an idiot as she told me she had been stood up too. Then I left and kept thinking about her the whole night”
“You were kind of dumb” you admitted, suddenly aware of the place he had chosen. Of the table he had reserved. “But you were cute”
“Oh, that’s such a kind thing to say about a man who spatted his name at you and stumbled out like a headless deer”
Your shoulders shook with laughter, and a few heads turned to look at you. When he mentioned it, you remembered that night – a friend had set you up with a male who didn’t show up. You remembered thinking Azriel had ran away from your pointless chattering, going home kind of disappointed.
Even though not even four months had gone by since that first encounter, you felt like a life had been spent. You thanked the Cauldron that male hadn’t shown up, because if being stood up meant you would meet Azriel, then you would have waited a thousand years.
Azriel lifted your joined hands to his lips and pressed them to yours. They felt soft and perfect, and you could only wonder and hope you would feel them on other parts too. Smiling at him was the only way you kept your mouth shut from those thoughts.
However, his eyes darkened and lowered to your mouth, as if he could feel and share what you were thinking. His throat bobbed lightly and your toes curled involuntarily in your shoes. Azriel forced himself to look away and lower your hands, because he wasn’t about to cause a second bad impression in the same restaurant.
“Y/N, I…” Azriel started, and seemed to shake whatever insecurities crowded him. “You know how I was, not was, but wanted to be with someone. When I met you. And that the flowers, and the dinner, and…”
“I know” you cut him off, and it was your turn to squeeze your joined hands. “And I don’t care, I really don’t. It brought you to me, the Cauldron, fate or whatever you want to call it. That’s all I care about”
“You’re making it really hard not to kiss you right now”
Before you could answer, the waiter appeared to take your note and you quickly ordered the first thing in the menu, not bothering to hide your blush or the shakiness of your voice. Azriel scoffed his order and the waiter left.
And that time, you couldn’t keep your eyes off his mouth, the way he licked his lips and smiled at you knowingly. You only whished you would end your night way closer than that dinner.
The market
It was cold, too cold to leave the comfort of your house. You had left your fuzzy socks in your wardrobe and exchanged them for thick boots, that would probably do little against the snow in the streets. That winter had been cruel and unforgivable that year, almost every day started with a blizzard or a storm.
Still, you needed to eat and clothe, and while you had minimized your interactions with other people to the minimum, you were finally forced to leave.
Azriel had been part of that cozy routine lately. Long nights in your house, sitting by the fire and just listening to his beautiful voice. Sometimes you just enjoyed the silence, the soft touches you shared.
He had made his petition known after your first date, and you could only agree – to take things slow, to get to know each other and not get rushed because of the bond. While it was proved to be hard when he looked at you with that devotion, you were keeping the promise.
Strong wind broke you out of your happy memories as you opened the door, and you shivered before setting a foot outside. You tucked the coat tighter around your body and quickly closed the door, although it didn’t stop some of the snow from sneaking inside.
You turned around to be met with a familiar chest. Somehow, before you looked up, you knew who he was.
“Az” you blinked surprised at your mate, who looked way less cold than you. “What are you doing here?”
“You told me you had to go shopping today. So I thought some company would be nice” he smiled at you. “Unless you plan to meet with your secret lover”
“He’s hiding under the bed” you raised a teasing brow. “I would never subdue him to such a cruel weather”
“Lucky for you, I grew up in the mountains”
Azriel pushed you close to his body and your boots pushed against the snow. Indeed, Azriel’s body temperature was already higher than you, and you had just walked out of your house. The market was not far from your house, just a few streets away, and you walked as quickly as the snow let you.
Fresh flakes covered your cheeks and hair, but you could have walked for days straight if Azriel was holding you against him.
People were already used to seeing you and the shadowsinger, and some of your neighbors gave you a short nod in greeting. Some of them even stopped you to talk to him, since he was the big incorporation to your little neighborhood. From cleaning their entrances of snow to catching their cats when they ran away, Azriel’s popularity was increasing.
You cherished the routine, the normality, of it. A dumb smile froze your face and you couldn’t let it down, not when Azriel greeted them back and even joked with them. When you reached the markets, you were considering turning back from the cold that had settled in your bones.
“Where first?” Azriel asked, looking between the hidden stands and shops.
“Andreas’ shop. She already has my order ready, we just need to pick it up” you motioned her local with your chin. “Hopefully I’ll keep all my fingers intact”
“Aren’t you a bit dramatic?” he scoffed.
Still, he sneaked his hand into your pocket and you could have moaned when his warm fingers wrapped around yours. You would have gladly taken your hands out and let him warm them, but even that was risking too much. With a grateful smile that barely replaced the urge to kiss him, you continued walking.
Azriel proved to be the best shopping companion. Not only he didn’t argue when you spent minutes doubting between two goods, but he also carried each and every bag. You teased him about dropping everything to the ground, which got you a playful glare.
It got the point where he wouldn’t let you use your hands to take the items. He would just ask you to point at them and then proceed to put them himself inside a bag.
The morning rolled away quickly between laughs, shopping and side-hugs that anticipated way more. It seemed that once Azriel had discovered how your laugh sounded, how it rattled his bones and soul, he was done for. Everything he said and made was aimed to repeat that sound, and he could have heard it for his eternity.
Not wanting the day to end, he didn’t mention when you opened the door for him, and you didn’t comment how he took his boots off at the entrance, at the familiar empty place by yours. While you unbuttoned layer after layer of clothes, Azriel filled your counters with groceries and put them away in the cupboards.
You found yourself watching him from the living room, as he moved around like he owned the place. He eventually noticed you hadn’t joined him, and he turned around. With his grey sweater and cargo pants, you wondered how much you needed to know him you wanted to have that sight for the rest of your life.
“Staring your fill?”
“Just making sure you won’t put poison in my coffee” you left your spot to walk towards him.
“I wouldn’t dream to mess with your coffee” Azriel showed his hands up. “Only between the spices”
Something electric brushed your arm when you walked around him, and it wasn’t the usual shadow that accompanied you lately. Something deeper, meaningful, that had you sharing a long look. It was hard to ignore what the bond demanded, what your soul asked you to do, but it felt weirdly nice to take things slow.
You had never imagined yourself with someone like Azriel, and he hadn’t even dreamed to find a bond so deep. Navigating it felt at the same time too slow and too fast. Your heartrate spiked up in his presence, but also warmed and felt like home.
You casted a quick look to the groceries, and then stared out the window. The blizzard was still going, and wouldn’t stop for a while.
“If you intend to poison me” you started, trying to not stutter when his hand found yours and his fingers brushed your palm. “Maybe you can stay for lunch”
“Seems like a solid plan for me”
You turned around and away from his grasp before you could share more than an innocent lunch.
The flowers
A soft knock on your door forced you to tear your eyes away from the book you were reading. A book from Azriel, that had captured you from the first chapter. You blinked the fogginess away and concluded that, while the book had taken your mind off for a while, your body felt just as tired.
You had been feeling sick for two days in a row, your cycle on full blast. Stiff limps, painful cramps and trembling knees were only a part of it. Between the heavy bleeding of the first days and the winter roaring outside, you hadn’t left the house yet. You had told Azriel about it, and he had respectfully kept his distance as you asked.
So, without him to keep you company, you weren’t expecting anyone.
Another beat of silence rolled by, and you waited for whoever was knocking to leave. Your legs were tucked under a warm blanket, and it had taken you a while to find the right position. Just when your eyes fell back to the book, another knock, that time stronger, broke the silence.
You would have ignored it too, but then black tendrils seeped through the bottom of the door and crawled to you. They tickled your face as you swatted them away, the book falling shut on the ground. Azriel’s shadows, that were always nearby when you two were together, bugged you until you couldn’t contain your smile.
They must have warned their master, and sensed your state, because you watched half-amazed half-worried how they easily played with your lock and opened the door. It was pushed open gently by Azriel, who offered you an apologetic shrug.
“Hey” you smiled, sitting up straight. “Don’t you have an emergency key?”
“Wanted to make sure I was welcomed first” Azriel stepped inside and the door closed behind him. “They didn’t agree”
“As long as the door isn’t broken”
Azriel walked with his hands behind his back the short steps that separated you, and you were grateful for the change of smell. Instead of the heavy herbs of your heating pads, he brought a fresh, natural scent that managed to lower the pain a tad.
He was wearing his training leathers and winter coat unbuttoned, and judging by the incoming bruise of his cheek, he had just finished his session with Cassian. Unknowns to you, it had been him who had thrown Azriel out of the training ring and forced him to come and see you.
Your mate was so out of it that he had been tackled to the ground twice. The general had only needed a short explanation before cutting their training short, and Azriel hadn’t complained. He had just made a brief stop before coming to your house.
When he reached the coffee table, he knelt on one knee and took the bouquet from behind his back. He watched as your eyes widened and your cheeks blushed. Flowers were hard to find during that time of the year, but Elain had been more than happy to help him. They were colorful, and under the notice you wouldn’t remember, the same he had once given you without meaning to.
“How are you feeling?” Azriel asked as he handed you the bouquet, watching you take it in slowly. You peeled the first layer off to stare at the hidden ones, breathing them softly.
“The same. It’s no big deal, I’ll be off for a few days and back on my feet like nothing happened. Perks of being female” you finally looked at him, and he lost his train of thought at the brightness of your eyes. “Thank you”
You couldn’t resist yourself and leaned forward, until Azriel was within your reach. His eyes didn’t move from a spot behind your as his whole body tensed when you cupped his cheek, that carried the stubble of a few days. It was rough against your palm, cold from the weather outside.
You moved his face to the right until you could place a light kiss to his cheek – more than his cheek, you had to admit, the corner of his mouth. From that close, you heard how his breath hitched. Maybe it was your cycle that made you bolder, because apart from holding hands and hugging, you hadn’t yet kissed.
Not even a kiss in the cheek, which had been your original intention.
But you couldn’t help and move a little to the right, catching the edge of his lip. So close yet so far from where you wanted to kiss him, where you had wanted to since the bond snapped. You left your lips there for half a second that, for Azriel, felt like an eternity.
Then you tore away and Azriel finally looked at you, his eyebrows rising. He blinked and begged himself to do something other than knelt at your feet, although he knew he had been in that position metaphorically since you met.
“I should put them in water” you mentioned, like you hadn’t just shaken his world.
He offered himself quietly to do so for you, gathering the flowers and getting up with just a misstep. Which, given the speed of his thoughts at the moment, was a great achievement.
Azriel ended up staying with you that night, heating the pad for you every now and then and holding you against him when the cramps made you curl in a tight ball. He didn’t complain when you whined in pain and cursed the Cauldron for the injustice, nor let you even think about apologizing for the inconvenience.
The flowers were put in a beautiful jar in the middle of the kitchen, and lasted almost a week. When the weather and time ended with them, Azriel helped you dry them and keep them like a physical memory of that beautiful night.
The dance
It wasn’t unusual for the inner circle to celebrate parties, but many of them were intimate. Rhysand and Feyre loved to share special moments with their family, and since that first dinner where you had been officially introduced as Azriel’s mate, you had become part of it.
You would have thought it’d be awkward at the beginning, centuries of friendship against a newcomer. But they all had warmed around you in a matter of hours. From all of them, Cassian was who you connected quicker with, sharing the same humor and care for Azriel.
Winter solstice had finally arrived after a cold winter, and you had been invited as Azriel’s partner. The girls, who now you considered your friends, had almost forced you to follow tradition and get ready together, so you had gathered your clothes in a bag and left your house early.
Not that it made you any good, as Mor took a quick look at your belongings and casted them aside in favor of an elegant black dress.
“You look stunning, Y/N” Feyre complimented you as you stared at yourself in the mirror.
“That’s one way to say it. I know for sure whose pants are going to be tight tonight” Mor added, earning a sharp look from Feyre and a loud laugh from Nesta. “And you haven’t even kissed him? Not even a quick peck?”
“You don’t have to answer” Elain reminded you from where she was finished her make-up. “She’ll keep this up for ages”
“We want to take things slow” you admitted, finally looking away from the mirror to your new friends. “The bond makes things different, and we barely knew each other before it snapped. So it’s our way to, I guess, make it real”
“That’s nice, I didn’t – “
“Well, I, for one, knelt before Cassian way before I knew his favorite color”
Mor snorted so hard she choked on her breath, Elain turned to look at her sister with a deep blush and Feyre just looked done with Nesta. You, for once, couldn’t tell them how much you imagined yourself doing so. In how many positions you had put Azriel in your mind, how many innocent touching had turned into deep thinking about what you would do.
You finished way later than the boys, it seemed, as Cassian was already half-drunk and Lucien had a healthy redness on his cheeks. As they all greeted each other, you were caught off guard from just how good Azriel looked.
He was full in navy blue, from his unbuttoned shirt that never seemed to let you see enough to his trousers that left little to imagination. He rose as soon as you walked in, taking a small box that was resting in the table with him.
His eyes did a quick check-up on you, and when they rose back to yours, his pupils were slightly bigger. Azriel left little space between your bodies, and you would have gladly left them to enjoy the festivity on their own hadn’t been by his hand taking yours delicately.
He opened the box and you blinked surprised at the shiny and beautiful ring that was hidden inside. In silence, he took it out and put it on your finger, his touch warm and safe.
“I brought Elain a stupid bracelet at Feyre’s birthday. It was a sad excuse to convince myself I still liked her, because you were already driving me mad without meaning to” he spoke quietly, rotating the new ring on your finger. “It seems that happened a life away”
“It’s perfect” you couldn’t help yourself when your voice broke a little. “I love it”
Azriel smiled, content with himself, and you realized the rest of the group had already left for the main dining room. Someone had closed the door to give you privacy, and you silently thanked them because you didn’t feel like breaking down in front of your new family.
The ring was your size, and it looked not big nor small. Perfect. You had troubles trying to voice the thoughts that threatened to make you cry, from joy and happiness, and Azriel seemed to understand them all.
His arm circled your waist and pushed you closer to him, your hands still together. He laced his fingers with your and you naturally rested your free hand against his shoulder. You brushed the short hairs of his neck, anything to make you feel grounded when you felt like flying.
“Y/N. My Y/N” Azriel muttered, his eyes drinking your emotions. “I could talk about this until my deathbed, but I guess you already know it, don’t you?”
“You made it all right, hm?”
It wasn’t a question, more like a statement. Azriel had mentioned before the first date that he wanted to fix every attempt he poorly made at courting Elain that reached you. The date, the market, the flowers, and now the stupid gift. He wordlessly swayed both of you a few steps, and you broke into a wet chuckle, knowing you wouldn’t make it through the whole dance without throwing yourself in his arms.
Azriel had been convinced Elain was the match for him.
She made his giddy, nervous, wanted. Everything he felt was always missing something, that he searched in her without noticing she just didn’t have it. Didn’t hold the piece of soul that was hidden in your bond.
Azriel’s own eyes looked glossy when he stopped the brief movements and turned his head to the right. You felt his breath against your lips when he talked, your noses brushes.
“May I kiss you now?”
You didn’t answer or wait for him to kiss you. Lifting your heels an inch, you pressed your lips against him and the world exploded. It was sweet and salty and every flavor you had ever tasted. Like a sunny night in summer or a windy day in winter.
The first tear rolled down your cheek, or maybe it was his. Azriel pushed your body closer until your back arched and your feet didn’t touch the ground. With both arms around your waist, Azriel lifted you up as you crashed your lips against him like a storm.
They danced wonderfully together, your hand tangling in his so-carefully tamed hair that was already getting loose. His tongue asked for permission and you gladly granted him. He explored every inch of your mouth, as if he was marking it into his memory to never forget it.
Eventually, you broke apart from air, and the room was brighter. He didn’t lower you and you didn’t tear your eyes away from him. You opened your heart and searched for the right words, that had been there since Feyre’s birthday.
“My mate” you whispered, watching the words sink into his heart and resonate with love and adoration. “My Az”
He swallowed the next words in another kiss, snow gathering in the window of the room. Even if it was cold and your presence was required a room away, you were warm and felt at home in his arm. So, you didn’t complain when walked with you still on his arms on the opposite way.
You barely registered Cassian’s loud laugh or his shadows closing doors behind you.
Only the feeling of your mate in your arms, and the warmth in your heart.
The Suriel 2
He hadn’t been invited – he never was. The Suriel wasn’t created for those types of things, and human or fae traditions were meaningless. Still, he had snuck in before the doors closed and lurked in the shadows when the guests filled the room.
At least two of the attendances had noticed him but hadn’t said anything. The shadows that covered him like an accomplice weren’t enough to cover him from the ancient creature’s sight. The woman had stared down at him from her short height and deemed him inoffensive, given she was standing next to her family without warning them.
The High Lord also noticed his presence, but had too ignored it. The Suriel didn’t know how to feel about it – or about his presence. He shouldn’t be there; he had never done so. But the shadowsinger story was too interesting, too consuming, not to follow.
He had not pushed the strings of fate only to miss the end.
The palace room fell quiet as a beautiful woman walked down the aisle. He watched Azriel’s eyes brighten from his corner, how his wings shivered with emotion when you walked closer, about to settle your bond with an official ceremony. His family surrounded him, his mate walked towards him, and the scarred and devasted boy was finally comforted.
“What is wrong with me? Why does nobody love me? I want to know – I want to know if someone will love me, please”
“Fate has granted you with great things, my boy. You just have to be patient. And you will beat them all”
Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated
Let me know if you want me to do an Azriel taglist!
Azriel taglist:
@boygeniuses10 , @tothestarsandwhateverend
Missed target taglist (will be added if I make a second part)
@kayjayjwrites , @phoenix666stuff , @lupinswolfsbanes , @bionic-donut , @tothestarsandwhateverend , @favsrachz , @dwlyniii , @mischiefmanagers , @sassybluebird , @saltedcoffeescotch , @andrewgarfield2022 , @leeknows-wife , @marscardigan , @celear , @sstrohma , @pricklepearbloom , @blackgirlmagicforever , @emiliasdump , @erencvlt , @that-one-little-soybean , @meshellexplosionmurder , @atrxidxs , @feyretopia , @sidthedollface2 , @littlelunatica , @historygeekqueen, @ash-mcj , @haileycannotcometothephonern , @thesunloveschips , @meritxellao , @impossibelle , @kalulakunundrum , @nebarious , @cullenswife , @emryb , @sandramalikstyles-blog
#azriel x reader#imaginemai#imaginesmai#acotar#acotar fic#acotar imagine#azriel imagine#azriel one shot#one shot#x reader#azriel#azriel shadowsinger#acotar series#azriel x you#azriel acotar#shadowsinger#imagine#fic#azriel fanfic#azriel fic
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Some Vital Scenes to Include in a Romantic Subplot, pt. 1
I’ve been in the plotting stages of a novel I’ve been working on for some time now. It’s not a romance novel, per se, but the romantic aspect is very prevalent… dare I say important. Anyway, so as I was working on my scenes and character arcs, I began to realize that I didn’t have enough fleshed-out about romantic arc, nor deepened the protagonist’s love interest or their connection, for that matter. This led me to devise up some scenes that I felt were crucial to the story if I wanted to keep this romantic angle to it, and now that I’ve most of them arranged, I find now that I’m way more excited about my characters’ love story.
These tips will be unnumbered because, obviously, the sequence of these events and how they will fall into your storyline will probably be different. Also, you don’t have to use only one scene for every suggestion that will be mentioned, as you can have multiple scenes of flirtations or deep conversations, for example. They usually blend all together into the narrative at this point. Just remember that there should be some relevance to the plot at hand in some of these scenes as to not derail completely from the main narrative or other conflicts.
I was going to post this all at once, but decided it was too long and wanted to split it into two parts to go more in-depth and for easy reading. /-\ Enjoy ~
- The meet-cute, or the meet-ugly:
Ah, yes, the first encounter. Or, as we sometimes like to call it: the meet-cute, or the meet-ugly if you’re feeling a little unconventional or perhaps mischievous. Though we may enjoy setting up our star-crossed characters in a whole range of moments from awkward to swoon-worthy, the initial meeting is what’s important (if your characters haven't already met before the beginning of the story, ofc, but this is useful to have in mind). Let us quickly define the two:
Meet-Cute: A charming and serendipitous first encounter between the characters in question that sets a positive, memorable, and oftentimes romantic tone.
Meet-Ugly: An unconventional, awkward, or disastrous initial meeting that adds a unique twist to the start of the romantic connection, often leading to unexpected chemistry and an added intrigue on whether or not they’ll get together.
You don’t have to nail your characters’ first encounter into a label or bubble such as these two examples, but I like bringing these up for a general idea.
- Bouts of flirting and/or banter:
Just as the title suggests, these are scenes containing the flirtaious communication between the two characters. These kinds of interactions will, of course, develop over time and deepen the bond or relationship. Playful interactions, gazes, and witty exchanges between the characters can create a lighthearted and flirtatious atmosphere that hints at their growing attraction.
The way they might flirt or tease can reveal their personalities. For example, one character might be more sarcastic, while the other responds with quick wit, or quiet bashfulness. There’s an element of subtlety, as flirting lets the characters express their romantic interest without explicitly stating it (unless one of your characters lacks subtlety in general and prefers to shout their undying love from the rooftops, which would make for an interesting dynamic, but I’m only spit-balling).
Banter, teasing, and romantic tension underscoring heated debates or loathsome gazes suit just as nicely, especially if you’re writing with enemies-to-lovers or rivalry tropes in mind. But be careful! A little goes a long way: too much all at once can repel any growth for the characters or narrative.
- Initial conflict or struggle:
Depending on your story’s big-picture conflict, the introduction of challenges or obstacles can create tension between the characters, adding depth to their relationship and making their eventual connection all the more satisfying. This might include cultural or class differences, opposing goals or values, history of past heartbreak, personality weaknesses such as stubbornness, or external pressures that threaten to keep the characters apart. Even a nosy family or a disapproving mother can be considered. How the characters navigate and resolve these conflicts contributes significantly to the overall emotional impact of the romance subplot, as well as allowing for some exploration of each character's strengths, weaknesses, and resilience.
- Shared vulnerability:
This kind of scene involves the characters opening up to each other about their innermost fears, insecurities, past trauma, or personal struggles. Shared vulnerability goes beyond surface-level interactions. It involves characters revealing their authentic selves, exposing their emotional vulnerabilities, and allowing the other person to see them in an honest — and sometimes new — light.
This is a symbolic gesture of commitment we’re talking about, here… something that requires trust. As characters share their fears or past traumas, they are entrusting the other person with sensitive information, fostering a sense of trust and emotional intimacy. It might be scary, it could be out from left field, but they will end up learning something new about themselves, their situation, or about the other person, and thus deepen their connection, little by little.
#writing advice#creative writing#fiction#writing#writing tips#character#on writing#story tips#story conflict#writing process#writer stuff#writer#writeblr#writing help#how to write#writing resources#writing tips and tricks#writers on tumblr#writers and poets#writerscommunity#subplot#romance#writing romance#writing characters
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What happened to Aziraphale and Crowley between 1941 and 1967?
It is well known by the fandom that Aziraphale realizes he’s in love with Crowley after Crowley saves him and his books from the n4zis in 1941. That moment marks the shift of their relationship, when Aziraphale sees that not only did Crowley know him well enough to save his books, but also was there for the sole purpose of rescuing him - because he cared. This moment led to their most romantic adventure yet, which involved the car “is there anything i can do for you in return?” scene, the magic trick performance, the “trust me” moment and a very intimate, private, candlelit dinner.
They had crossed a very visible line in their relationship, you could see it in the way they were looking at each other, being more open, talking and drinking together. They were acting romantically towards each other, even if they couldn’t admit it or talk about it.
But then, the next time we see them, it’s almost like they moved backwards in they’re relationship. Aziraphale is practically unable to look directly at Crowley when he first gets in the car. And then we get the iconic, yet heartbreaking and confusing “you go too fast for me, Crowley”. And you can see that Aziraphale looks almost mournful after saying that.
I saw a post on twitter comparing the two car scenes - the one where Aziraphale is practically throwing himself at Crowley and then the one where he’s hesitant towards him.
And it made me think. Like, whatever happened between those two car scenes has an impact that lasts for many years, as we can CLEARLY see that 2008 Aziraphale and Crowley were still a bit colder and more distant than their 1941 selves. Their relationship backtracked a lot from that candlelit dinner. And i don’t think that’s a plot hole, i truly think there’s something we don’t know yet.
Of course, after the events of season one, they’re back to being really close, their dynamic is pretty much restored and we can see them hold hand in the bus - which David Tennant has confirmed happened, and it is heavily implied that Aziraphale stays at Crowley’s that night, where they did the body swap for the trials.
BUT! In the first episode of Season 2, Aziraphale mentions that he had to do the “i’m sorry” dance in 1941. It definitely happened after that candlelit dinner, so could that event - which led to the apology dance - be connected to why they had a temporary falling out? What was it that happened after that dinner? Are we going to see more from 1941?
It has been the only time period that was shown in both seasons, and it was perhaps the most romantic and significant time they’ve spent together prior to the events of season two. Perhaps they went a little too far and weren’t prepared for that? Perhaps they’ve miscommunicated and had a big fight? I don’t know, i’m hoping our dearest @neil-gaiman has an answer for that.
Also, when Crowley says “no nightingales” before kissing Aziraphale, Aziraphale seems to understand perfectly what he’s referring to. He looks absolutely crushed after Crowley says that. So it led me to believe something in the past made them associate “A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square” to their relationship and perhaps talk about it. And i believe that, if i am correct and they have talked about the nightingales before, it was in 1941. But then, what do I know?
I would REALLY love to see your theories as to what happened between them after that dinner, if anything at all. Also, does anyone wanna be moots? My posts have been very successful but i’m not getting followers and i really want to meet more of you.
#aziracrow#aziraphale#crowley#good omens#ineffable husbands#neil gaiman#gomens#angel#gomens s2#prime video#go3#good omens season 2#good omens spoilers#need this to happen#neil gaiman books#crowleys bentley#crowley x aziraphale#terry pratchett#a nightingale sang in berkeley square
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Just For Tonight | Ch. 3
This is the last part of this mini series! We might have some more coming for you - stay tuned!
Series Summary: Harry spots an angel in the crowd and he can't keep his eyes off of her. And, as if by some cosmic pull, he can't help but ask her backstage. But it's only going to be just for tonight. Or is it?
Chapter Summary: Is it true what they say? Does distance really make the heart grow fonder? Y/n isn't so sure so she tries to move on. But Harry has other plans.
A/N: In this chapter I mention a particular ex (without naming her) as part of the plot. This does not mean I feel one way or another about her, nor do I think this is an accurate representation of how she's acted after their split. This was requested for the story. This is a work of fiction.
Warning: 18+ only, smut, mentions of an ex, angst
Word Count: 11.8k
Commissioned by anon (thank you!! xoxo)
Just For Tonight Masterlist
It had been difficult for Y/n to stop thinking about Harry. They connected so well and she loved the way he was with her and how he carried himself. Loved the way they could talk about nothing and have it feel like the most interesting thing.
They had a few calls after he left LA for his tour. But that quickly became hard to navigate with the different time zones. He said he liked her and wanted to see her again. And she was sure that when he said that he meant it. The distance won, however.
But with his absence, with him being in another country on tour, and hundreds of people begging for a chance of what she got lucky enough to experience, she figured that what she’d gotten was probably all she’d ever get.
And that was okay. It wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted more of him. Would have loved to have seen him but she knew he was too famous and too amazing to settle for someone like her. She knew better than to ever get her hopes up. He’d done nothing wrong.
Instagram showed pictures of him with his friends and a mystery woman. A woman who was with him at one of his concerts. And then another one. Photos of them walking along the streets together. A fuzzy snap of them at a small café huddled closely. That was also okay. There had been no promises or commitments made.
Y/n hated to do it, hated to open up Instagram but her curiosity about Harry and if he’d been spotted by fans was eating at her. A DuexMoi post with a screenshot from his recent long-term ex’s Instagram account had her feeling nauseated. It was a subtle thing. Nothing specific but everyone picked up on the meaning. The text was a quote from a book she’d been reading over a picture of a close-up of her wearing a cross necklace.
The comments on what it meant were all over the place. And Y/n knew better than to read into anything too deeply or to fixate on something like this. Harry had brought up his ex once when their conversation was relevant to it. Said that she continued reaching out to him and that even when it was clear they were over the woman still called him and sent him messages on the regular.
And as much as she knew that it was probably nothing she couldn’t shake the way it felt to think of Harry and his ex getting back together somehow. She didn’t know anything about what he was doing at that moment because their calls had all but stopped by then. But the post from his ex was a signal. Did it mean anything? Maybe. But maybe it only meant something to his ex. Perhaps Harry hadn’t even seen it.
However, the comments on the post suggested they were talking again and reports of them trying to “work it out” were numerous.
And with that idea, she decided to log back into her stupid dating app. Try and get over the pop star once and for all. Move on if she could.
She’d had one good date from the app ages ago. The rest of the men who contacted her were absolute wastes but perhaps she’d find someone once again who she could tolerate for longer than a chat session. She’d give it a shot.
. . .
“But you did take her call?” Jeff spoke over the phone as Harry walked back to the hotel after a training session with Brad.
“Well, yeah. We have history. I didn’t want to be rude. Haven’t talked to her in a while. Thought maybe it could be important.”
“And was it?” Jeff sounded exasperated.
“No. She just said she missed me. Wants to see me when I get back to the States.”
Harry knew when he saw the incoming call from his ex that he probably shouldn’t pick up. But that was the thing about him. He was a people pleaser. He didn’t like when anyone was upset with him and he liked being on everyone’s good side. Even if it meant answering a call he didn’t want to take.
And part of him missed her. Missed what they had at the very beginning but he’d truly moved on. Especially with the idea that he’d be getting back to LA soon and seeing Y/n again. He hoped he hadn’t ruined it with her. It was hard to keep in contact with her. Too many missed calls and back-and-forth voicemails. Even the texts with Y/n had dwindled slowly. He understood that the distance was hard to overcome but that didn’t mean he wasn’t looking forward to hopefully seeing her again.
He knew if he had the chance to see her again and she still wanted to give it a shot with him he wouldn’t be letting go next time. He’d make it official. He’d want to really do it right with her. And he’d have a little time off from the tour to dote on her and give her lots of attention. Maybe even convince her that she should just travel with him wherever he went off to. Convince her that she should be his and that he would do everything he could to make her happy like she deserved.
He hoped it wasn’t too late.
And now with the new Instagram post from his ex the gossip had begun. Full articles written about how he and his ex were getting back together again, how it was true love, and a bunch of other nonsense that her story caused. And Jeff was pissed.
“I really wish you wouldn’t have taken her call. That’s sending her mixed signals and now with that godforsaken post she put up you’re already getting hate messages about taking her back. Calling you complicit. It’s a nightmare.”
Sometimes Harry really hated being famous. He didn’t even have to do much to get scrutiny. Sometimes one small little blunder, like answering a call could set off a chain of events that led him to where he was now, getting his ear chewed off by Jeff and having his fans upset with him.
But his main concern was if Y/n had seen it or not. He wondered what she thought about it. If she cared. He wondered how she was. If she’d seen anyone while he was gone. He missed her.
. . .
The job at The Dulcería had turned out to be one of the best things ever, income-wise anyway. She was exhausted and had little free time but she was pulling in pretty healthy tips and when it came time to pay her rent she had plenty left over to pay on time and stick the rest in savings.
Vyra steered clear for the most part but she did hover a bit any time Y/n had a table with a high roller or celebrity. Which, Y/n came to learn that not all celebrities tipped like Harry Styles. In fact, some tipped worse than normies to her shock.
One particularly demanding uber-famous model with her model friends was nice at first. Needed things brought out in a certain order, the wine had to be perfectly chilled or she wouldn’t drink from her glass, and then there was the lighting issue. She and her friends were snapping photos of themselves “eating” and the lights weren’t right.
Their table was full of The Dulcería’s most exclusive and expensive desserts (which the restaurant was famous for) and yet only a few bites were taken after uploading all their photos to Instagram. It was a shame that all of it had to be tossed when their table was cleared. It felt like it should be illegal. Belgian fine chocolate ganache, freshly made lemon curd, berries from the local market selected that very morning, handpicked herbs, candied pistachios, and fresh lavender cream. All that waste for nothing.
The tip that was left after that three-hour debacle was less than 5% of the bill. She assumed the woman who supposedly had many millions of dollars to her name would have given a better tip on a nearly $3,000 tab. Just imagine watching a rich woman clad in designer carrying a purse most people had to get on a waitlist for leaving a $145 tip on a $3,000 tab.
Still, even then, she was bringing in good tips and couldn’t complain often.
Her feet hurt and she smelled like the restaurant through and through at the end of her shifts. If she could have just collapsed into her bed and gone to sleep she would have. But the thought of not showering off first made her skin crawl. She needed the scent of food and spilled wine scrubbed from her pores.
And like she did nearly every night before falling asleep, she checked social media and then checked her dating app to see if there were any hits. Any worthy of a response from her.
One evening she did hear from a man who seemed intriguing. He appeared to be normal and handsome. So she sent him a response and opened up the chat option if he wanted to pursue something.
And the following day at the office she and Jimmy had chatted intermittently. She felt that sweet little familiar bubble of excitement in her tummy when her phone gave her a notification that he’d messaged her.
They made plans to meet up in person on a Wednesday after work at a bar near to her house.
It had been almost two months since she’d seen Harry. He did message her a few weeks prior but there was no call and when she responded he didn’t respond back. She figured it was time to look for something a little more serious. She knew better than to assume she and Harry were endgame. No matter how good the sex and connection were.
She stopped stalking Instagram and googling to find out where he was in the world. It was better for her own mental health to try and move on from him. He had been a fun fling. A great guy. Maybe one of the best “hookups” she’d ever had. Not maybe. He definitely was. He had been kind and thoughtful and fun. And he was great in bed.
But it was time to put that behind her now. A date with a nice, normal guy was in order. She just hoped she could erase the way Harry made her feel and that she wouldn’t compare every guy she tried dating to the pop star.
Jimmy was attractive in person to her delight. He worked downtown not far from where she did and they talked about mundane things like their commute (anyone living in or around LA will understand this is a hot topic), the buildings they worked in, and their jobs. When Y/n revealed she worked as a waitress on the side Jimmy seemed impressed by her even more.
After a few glasses of wine and for Jimmy, beer, they decided to part ways. It had been a good first meetup. Y/n was feeling buzzy and excited. Hopeful.
The chats with Jimmy continued but moved from the app to texts. They had plans to meet up again Monday evening.
Her weekend shift at The Dulcería was like any other. Tips were good. Some of the patrons were just so-so. Vyra was annoying but gave her space. But she was exhausted. She only worked an extra 18 hours a week as a waitress but after a few months, it began to wear on her.
So when Monday came around and she walked to the same bar to meet up with Jimmy she didn’t expect that the text she’d be getting wouldn’t be from her date.
Just as she was pushing through the doors to the bar she looked at her notification screen and nearly dropped her phone.
It was Harry.
She paused by the door for a moment, contemplating whether or not to read the text to see what he wanted or to wait until after her date. She decided on the latter out of respect for Jimmy.
The problem was, though, that Y/n couldn’t get it out of her mind what it was that Harry had texted her. It had been long enough that she figured he’d completely moved on. And was it fair of him to reach out again after all that time?
So, instead of feeling flattered, she started to feel the tiny crawling of annoyance and frustration dragging up her spine.
“I’d like to see you again soon. Maybe we can get dinner next time. Take a walk afterward along the boardwalk or something?” Jimmy said as he hugged Y/n goodbye before they went their separate ways.
“That sounds great. I’m free Sunday night if you want to do it then. Kind of hard most Fridays and Saturdays,” she shrugged as she felt Jimmy squeeze her hand.
“Sunday night sounds perfect. Can I pick you up?”
. . .
Hey, how are you? Miss you.
She read the text over and over again. That was all it said but why? Why send it? It wasn’t as if he couldn’t be allowed to text her. He had her number. They’d slept together a couple of times and had gotten to know one another beyond just surfacey stuff. But still.
Instead of texting him back, she decided to leave him on read. She needed time to figure out how to respond. What to say, or if she should say anything. Maybe she should just leave it so he got the hint about what was going on. That she didn’t want to open up that chapter again and get herself hurt. Because she would get her heart broken by Harry if she let herself get lost in it.
And it wasn’t like he’d done anything wrong at all. It was clear that what had happened between them had just been casual. Good, fun sex. So responding to him wouldn’t have been weird but there was a part of her that felt like maybe he’d dug his way into her heart a little more than she was ready to admit. If she was taking his innocent text so seriously and pondering it so deeply, perhaps there was more to it. Which meant she needed to let it go for her own good.
So she did leave him on read. But more for her sake than his she figured.
. . .
Harry couldn’t understand why she hadn’t responded. He could see that she’d read the text. But why not respond? He wondered if this meant she’d moved on. Maybe she’d seen that post from his ex and figured he was on his way to getting back with her somehow amidst all the rumors.
He was aware of how things were between himself and Y/n. He’d given in and fucked his own rule to not sleep with someone who was supposed to be a one-time thing more than once. To go back for more. But when he saw her that night at the restaurant he felt like somehow it was fate. Not like a deep sort of forever kind of fate, but more like a this is okay to indulge in more than once kind of fate. He usually didn’t like doing that but with Y/n it felt different. And she was hot. And funny. And the way she handled him in bed had definitely left a mark on him. She wasn’t just a fan or a casual sex partner. She wasn’t just some girl.
So that’s why he texted her. He was coming back to LA in a couple of weeks. Figured they could see one another again and have some fun. But maybe that was the problem. She was more than just fun for a night. He liked her a lot. And perhaps she was feeling something similar and needed to put that distance there so she didn’t get hurt. Harry could understand that.
While he was away he had one of his good friends along with him. He liked to have someone he trusted, which was rare in his world. He had a hard time trusting most people. She was easygoing and didn’t want anything from him sexually so she was a perfect confidant and companion to have traveling with him. It was nice to have friends like her. Something that didn’t need to be anything but friendly. Someone that he could joke around with and not worry much about being on his best behavior with.
She even gave him great advice about Y/n and then his ex after the disaster of her Instagram post. He knew he’d been snapped with her as he was out and about. On walks, in restaurants, in group settings. There were of course the usual rumors that they were dating but that couldn’t have been further from the truth.
He imagined that Y/n had seen the photos of him walking with the girl next to him. Plus the post from his ex wasn’t helping matters. Maybe it had all been too much for Y/n? Or maybe he was overthinking it all. He wasn’t quite ready to give up but he’d let her be until he returned.
. . .
Jimmy took Y/n to a cute little Mexican spot Sunday night and they ordered margaritas and Baja tacos with guacamole and cactus salad.
And Jimmy looked extra attractive that evening. She hadn’t noticed before then that his forearms were so thick. He had a sweater on that he’d pushed up to his elbows baring his arms. A bit of scruff on his face. And he smelled nice.
She felt like maybe they’d had enough dates and had gotten to know one another well enough that going back to his place might be fun. She wouldn’t mind a fun romp in the sack with him.
So when they walked back to Jimmy’s car she decided to go out on a limb, “Would you… what do you think about maybe going back to your place together? Or mine? I was thinking we could kind of relax and continue our conversation a bit?”
Jimmy opened the passenger door for her to let her into his car, “Oh. Yeah! Absolutely. Whichever place is better for you. It’s up to you. Mine or yours.”
And because Y/n wanted to do more than just “continue their conversation” she figured his place was best since Brad was probably home. The last time she had a man in her bed was Harry and Brad hinted at having heard them the next day. Not something she wanted to repeat nor subject poor Brad to again.
Jimmy lived in a one-bedroom apartment. He had no roommates which was ideal.
“So, I just want to tell you that right now I’m not looking for a serious relationship. I still have my profile up and kind of chatting with another girl but it hasn’t gone anywhere. I think once we get to know one another a little more maybe we can talk about being exclusive. Does that sound okay?”
She appreciated Jimmy’s honesty. And she was glad that he told her before they’d gotten any further. Because they were both sitting on his couch and making out heavily. In fact, her hand was already slowly making its way up his thigh when he stopped her to come clean.
She paused and thought for a moment. Was that okay? She began to nod and turned her gaze back to her date, “Thank you for telling me. And yeah… I think I can agree to that. Let’s just keep being honest with one another like this and I think it’ll be really good,” she leaned in when Jimmy grinned at her answer and she climbed over his lap, not ready to stop the direction they were already headed.
And just as she’d intended when she left the restaurant with Jimmy they had sex after clearing the air about their status.
It was good. She liked having sex. She didn’t do it a lot. Maybe she’d have one or two a year at most. Hopefully, Jimmy would be someone she could keep around. She hated dating and finding someone she could trust.
Jimmy didn’t get her off, though. He tried. He ate her out, which she was already very pleased with. Not all men would go down on a woman without having to be prompted. Jimmy was eager.
But when that didn’t get her off she told him to get a condom so they could have sex.
Again, he was eager. Quite good really. But as was typical for having sex with anyone for the first time, she didn’t come. She was nice and wet and super turned on but it just didn’t happen.
She didn’t mind much. He did hit some really good spots that made her moan and got her close a few times. He tried rubbing her clit to get her off before he could come but it didn’t do it for her. She guided his fingers over her the way she liked but he needed time to figure out her body a little. Nothing wrong with that at all.
And he knew she didn’t come. He was disappointed in himself when he pumped into his condom and groaned in his orgasm. He apologized profusely and tried to eat her out again but she was tired. They’d been going at it for a while because his goal was to make her come.
“It’s okay. Really. Jimmy, you’re so good. It’s always like this the first time for me. I had so much fun with you.” She cupped his jaw.
While what she was saying was mostly true, she couldn’t stop imagining how Harry had gotten her off his first time. And the second time and the following morning before he left. She tried to swallow down those thoughts and not let that interrupt her moment with Jimmy but she couldn’t help it. Harry’s moves were just better and his dirty talk and his body. And his cock. And him.
She closed her eyes to squeeze out that image from her mind. There was nothing wrong with Jimmy’s body or his dick. He was fine. She was sure that after some work he’d be getting her off soon enough. They’d eventually get very comfortable with one another and sex would be better and she’d orgasm easier.
Really at the end of the day she wanted to feel close with someone. And she got exactly that with Jimmy. He pulled her into his chest and they fell asleep in his bed. She might have not gotten her orgasm but she got the connection and closeness she’d been craving and missing.
. . .
The following week they skipped going out for a date altogether and Jimmy cooked for her at his place. He was a pretty romantic person. A genuinely nice guy. Handsome, funny, smart. But their second time having sex was not different from the first. Y/n was sure she’d come and had gotten close a few times but it still just didn’t happen.
And for the first time in her life ever, she faked it. She felt she had to. The poor guy was suffering. He was hammering into her and grunting and shaking, continually pulling out before he could release. For nearly half an hour that was the scene.
He tried holding her legs to the side and thrusting into her as he hovered over her but she needed something more, she was sure. Her own fingers at her clit and his cock slipping in and out just didn’t do the job. So she got on all fours and Jimmy’s bed creaked and bounced and it felt really good. Just not good enough.
Finally, when she rode him she felt that yummy gooey thing she always got just before coming but the moment she began to quiver and just before she could come Jimmy’s words halted any further gooeyness, “Finally, fuck!”
That had done it. She wasn’t going to come. He didn’t mean it to be rude, she was sure. Jimmy was the sweetest guy, truly. But that little bit was all she needed and her orgasm was ruined. So when she felt him throbbing in his condom she moaned and clenched and did all the stupid acting a porn star would to fake her orgasm.
For him to say finally in response to thinking she was coming. Really? That had irked her. She wished he hadn’t said that.
But it didn’t deter her. She really did like the guy. And surely the third time would be the charm. Except it wasn’t. The following morning he ate her out and then they had sex and he got off while she faked it again. She had to get going anyway because it was Monday morning and she had to be at the office.
It felt good to be dating someone. Even if it was casual. Jimmy had mentioned he hadn’t seen anyone else, but she didn’t miss it when he said “yet”. And part of her preferred it casual with Jimmy. Liked that her options were still open for the time being. But it did feel good to be in a relationship of sorts. Felt nice to know that someone liked her enough to keep texting her and seeing her and wanted to sleep with her. It felt grownup. That’s what she wanted. Connection. Relationship. And that’s what Jimmy gave her. In due time they would be more sexually compatible. She was sure.
On Friday night at the restaurant, she was given a couple of large groups. They were relatively nice. Perfectly well-behaved groups. Jimmy had been texting her all night. He was hoping to see her and have her stay over until the following morning before she had to be at work.
She hadn’t decided if she would or not. She sort of wanted to sleep her morning away before needing to be on her feet all night again. And she figured she could use her dildo and make herself come because she was sure Jimmy couldn’t. She knew that he wanted to have sex with her and at that point it just sounded exhausting. Now every time they got together the night ended with sex and a failed orgasm on her part. She didn’t know if something was wrong with her or if maybe she wasn’t as compatible with Jimmy as she thought. But she knew one thing. He wasn’t getting her off like she needed. And her feelings about that were giving her pause. She wondered if she was just settling for casual dates with Jimmy. Wondering if Harry had ruined her for anyone else.
So when she was suddenly interrupted coming out of the kitchen to check on one of her tables she jumped at his voice. It had been unexpected.
“Harry? What are you doing here?” She looked around and the bustling restaurant and then back up at the handsome man. Her body tingled at his presence and she got that lightheaded excitedness that she felt every time she saw him. And she realized that that was something she never experienced with Jimmy.
“I just wanted to say hi. You hadn’t texted me back the last time I reached out and I’m here for dinner right now and saw you walking back and forth. Just wanted to see how you are.”
She didn’t realize Harry had been there. Usually, the servers would mention any time anyone famous came in.
“Oh. Yeah, I’m well. Just… gosh I’ve been really busy. How have you been? I didn’t know you were back.” She decided not to address the fact that she hadn’t responded to his text nearly a month ago.
“I’m great. Been back in LA for almost a week. Missed you.”
Missed you. Yeah, she missed him too if she were honest. But she’d been pushing it all down. Covering up her feelings with Jimmy.
“That’s… I uh… missed you too.” She didn’t know what else to say. Out loud anyway. Internally she was telling him all about how the guy she’d been dating was super sweet but terrible in bed. Well, not terrible. But not Harry. And he didn’t make her feel all floaty and full of syrup and butterflies and anticipation the way Harry did. How she was having trouble connecting with Jimmy the way she could with Harry. God, how she’d love to have another round with him again. Feel that yummy stretch he gave her, that sharp deep poke, listen to his deep voice in her ear as he coaxed her through an orgasm that had her shaking and slobbering into the sheets.
“Yeah? Maybe I can see you after? I’ll stick around til you get off.”
Her mind was playing tricks on her. Til you get off. Yeah, she knew that would happen if she allowed him to stick around. She’d get off all right. He’d see to it. She should say no. Should tell him she’s seeing someone. It’s not serious but she shouldn’t do that to Jimmy. But then again…
“Okay. Yeah. I’d like that. Should be done here in an hour and a half. Is that okay?”
“F’course. I’ll be here.”
She felt immediate guilt. Jimmy didn’t deserve to be put on the back burner. He was too sweet. And there was nothing wrong with him. Sex wasn’t amazing but it wasn’t bad and eventually, she’d get used to him and she’d orgasm with him. Surely. Right? But the biggest thing that nagged at her was the way she felt around Harry. Just having him standing before her and speaking to her had her feeling things she realized she never felt with Jimmy. Maybe Jimmy wasn’t a good match for her.
And she and Jimmy weren’t exclusive. That had been made clear at the beginning. Jimmy did say that he wasn’t ready to be serious with anyone and that he wanted to get to know her for a while before any commitments were made. So it wasn’t like she was actually doing anything wrong. And it wasn’t as if Harry was asking her to have sex with him. Not by any means. Perhaps it was just to chat. To just catch up.
. . .
It was most definitely not just to chat. But of course, she knew that. Harry had her in his bed nearly the minute they walked into his huge mansion. It was the first time she’d been to his place and she barely had a moment to look around before he was dragging her to his master suite. They’d made out the entire way from the restaurant to his place in the back of the car. She couldn’t help it. It was like magic between them. Like fate. Like they were meant to be. She felt powerless to it.
“God I missed you,” he whispered into her neck as he gripped the back of her head, “Have never kissed anyone with softer lips.”
She was wet nearly instantly. Jimmy had to work hard to get her in the state she was with Harry after only five minutes of a hot, backseat makeout session.
In his room, she pulled his pants down and dropped to her knees. She needed to see him. Needed to dig her nails into his thick, masculine thighs. She panted as she leaned in and pressed her lips over his tiger tattoo and ran her hands upward to cup his bulge.
Harry watched her from her position on her knees before him and finally felt like he was home. There was something about this girl that he couldn’t shake. He had missed her. And the whole reason he had gone to The Dulcería that night was to see her.
So he was surprised when she so easily said yes to seeing him after work. Surprised when she flirted with him and responded to his touch with touches of her own. Surprised when she kissed him in the back seat of the cab and now more than anything, was pleased by the direction the night was going.
He decided before he even saw her that night that he wanted to make her his. Wanted it to be official. He could see himself getting serious with her. Saw himself bringing her with him everywhere. Falling in love. The whole nine.
Her lips sucked and pulled at his cock and it was better than he remembered. There was certainly nothing like the real thing when it came to getting head and Harry had been doing a lot of imagining over the months. He’d missed her warmth and her eyes. Her wet lips slipping over his shaft.
She coughed and gurgled around him as she sat back for a breath and stroked him in her hand. He brushed his fingers along her temple to move her hair from her face and she was already looking up at him. Her top had been unbuttoned and he had a view of her big tits held in by her bra and her soft eyes looking up at him with his cock in her hand.
“Fuck, angel. Missed you so much.”
She smiled and leaned in with her pink tongue sticking out before licking over his balls, gently kissing and sucking at the skin. He moaned as she moved upward over his shaft and to his crown before popping him back into her mouth.
Another good gag had Harry pulling her up, “Darling, take your clothes off,” he said through soft breaths as he pulled his shirt off and kicked his pants down the rest of the way off his legs.
She removed her work outfit and could smell the restaurant on herself, “I should like, shower or something. I smell like kitchen and food…”
Harry dragged her into his arms and stepped her back toward the bed, “Just like you are. I need you now.” He spoke against her lips.
She was pushed into his bed, her naked body under his with his soft mouth drinking her in. His lips moved from her jaw to her neck and suckled at her tits for a while before he got down to business slurping away at her cunt.
Yes. Okay. That was good. Harry was good. And she knew it wasn’t just because he was so skilled. No. She realized that it was because of the way she felt for Harry. Her heart thundered in her chest wildly as she yanked his hair and ground her pussy into his face. Harry sucked and kissed and fingered wetly as he moaned into flesh. It was everything. Harry was everything.
When she splashed a bit on his face from her orgasm Harry sat back with a laugh as he massaged the inside of her thighs. She forced herself to open her eyes to look at him. He was breathing heavily, his chest flushed pink, his cock thickened and erect. Ready to be pressed right into her sloppy pussy.
He had a hand at his base as he smoothed his weepy tip through her hot and sticky crease. He small whine fell from his lips before he got up to grab a condom. He would have loved to have just fucked her raw but they’d need to talk about all that first. And they’d barely done any talking that evening.
She pushed herself up to her elbows to watch Harry as he stood next to the bed and looked down at his girthy cock, sliding the condom over himself. She couldn’t wait to feel him inside of her again. At long last.
His strong body was insane. She’d never get over it. Wanted to drag her tongue over every inch and drink up his sweat and taste the salt in her mouth. God, he made her insatiable.
Harry kneed up to her on the bed, his heavy condom-covered dick swaying until he pulled her toward him and planted his lips onto hers. Soft and sensuous. The way he kissed her was enough to call it all off Jimmy. It had her head spinning and her tummy doing somersaults. Never something Jimmy had accomplished in their couple of months of dating.
He was breathing hard as he backed from the kiss and looked over her bare body, “I needed this so bad. God… You have no idea how much I missed you, Y/n.”
She really didn’t know. Because she imagined he was getting plenty of ass while he’d been away.
Harry laid her down on the bed, her back flat on the mattress as he leaned over her frame and attached his lips to her breasts one at a time. She could feel his cock dragging over her as he moved from one nipple to the other.
He felt her buck upward under him and he smiled as he popped off her nipple and looked down at her, “Need something, angel?”
She nodded with a grin, “Your cock. Please.”
Harry groaned and thumbed over moistened nipples before grasping his shaft with one hand and planting his palm down onto the mattress to hold himself up over her.
“Yeah? Please? You missed me, angel?”
“Oh my god…” she moaned as she felt his tip press against her entrance, “Yes. Oh my god, I missed you.”
Harry sat back onto his haunches so he could watch as he entered her. It was his favorite view. The way she spread open, the tight little snap of him entering her clenching muscle, how nicely she took all of him. He pushed in and pulled back, wetting himself as he inched in further and further. She was sopping and had coated his condom in her drippy juices. He moaned as he dipped in deeper and watched her mouth drop open in relief at the feel of him stuffing her pussy.
When he’d gotten in balls deep he sighed, “Oh fuck, angel. I’m gonna treat you so good.” And he didn’t just mean while he was fucking her. He meant it in every way one could. He was going to treat her exactly as she deserved.
When he began to thrust in and out with long and languid strokes, the poke into her belly was toe-curling. She’d missed the way his cock felt and missed him. Missed him more than anything.
The patting of their skin slapping together wetly sounded as good as it felt. Harry moaned and Y/n gasped. He was deep. It was as if he’d somehow grown in size since he’d been away but she was sure it was just because Harry was Harry. She liked his dick but she just really liked him.
Harry had a nice grip on her thighs to keep them spread so he could have an unobstructed image of what he was doing to her, “God your little hole is just taking me, baby…” he groaned.
She peered up at him, his abs and his thighs flexing as he worked himself into her steadily. Every time he plunged in he nudged himself into her with a quick buck at the end to push himself as far in as he could get, causing her to jolt upward and whimper at the ache.
“Your cock… oh god Harry…” she didn’t know what she was trying to say. Except maybe just that she was really enjoying him. A compliment to how good he felt. How good he was.
Harry rhythmically rocked into her and released one of her thighs to use his thumb on her clit. He softly smoothed his pad over her sticky and aroused nub and she gasped. Harry grinned at her as she reached down to feel the mess they were making, her fingers slipping next to his and then lower, to feel where his cock was sliding in and out, spreading her pussy apart, the wet hair at his base, his balls as they nudged into her when he buried himself in.
“My cock? Yeah? That feel good inside you?”
“Yes, fuck… your gonna make me come so hard,” she moaned her words as she kept her fingers held against the spot where he was pushing into her, slick and creamy.
“Feel that? Feel how wet you get for me? How hard you make me?” He sucked in a sharp breath when her fingers glided along his balls and he stilled his hips, grinding himself into her. She was forced to move her fingers back up to her clit as Harry grasped her hips and pulled her over him so she could feel just how deep he was.
“God I wish I could fuck you without a condom. Come inside of your sweet cunt and fill you up like you deserve.”
She moaned at his words and the way he was buried inside of her guts. Her eyes fluttered closed as she continued to finger over her clit. That sounded exactly like what she wanted too. Wanted to feel him pouring into her and then watch it leak out slowly as he stuffed it back in with his tip.
“Oh my god, Harry. That sounds good…” She looked down at where his pelvis was pasted to hers as he circled his hips into her.
“Yeah? Gonna make you mine, baby and then I’m gonna fuck you raw and come inside of you over and over again. You want that?”
Nodding her head, she had a pained, fucked-out expression on her face, “Yess…” she panted.
Harry leaned over her body, not able to resist kissing her any longer. He needed his mouth on hers immediately.
The quick change of position had Y/n gasping as Harry shifted over her and pressed his lips to hers. The smooth strokes of his cock started up again as he planted his mouth over hers and licked against her tongue.
Intimate. That’s what it was. Harry was intimate but it felt especially real. Especially meaningful. She tried not to think about how soft and loving he was being with her because it felt so much like what someone would do if he was in love.
But then suddenly he took her hand and wound his fingers into hers, pressing their joined hands into the bed next to the pillow her head was on, as he continued thrusting and kissing. That gesture totally tipped her mind into that place she didn’t want to go. That place that told her he was just as into her as she was into him. That he wanted her and only her.
She bent her knees and planted her feet flat, lifting her hips upward each time he pushed in. It was wet and hot between them. Harry’s body over hers was solid and strong as he fucked into her with everything he had. She felt it too. Felt him put his whole body into each thrust.
Their hands stayed wound together tightly as Harry licked into her mouth. They parted only for gasps of air and to let out whimpers and moans.
“Please, Y/n…” Harry whispers against her lips before opening his mouth over hers and smoothing them together, closing his mouth around her tongue and then pressing his tongue passed her lips. She wanted to ask him why he said please but her brain was scrambled and focused on the way their bodies moved together. How good he felt. How good she felt.
Her heart was pounding so hard she could hear it. She was certain Harry could hear it too. His pelvis stayed pressed into her clit and each time he stuffed himself into the hilt he undulated his hips as she tilted her own pelvis into him.
“Oh fuck!” She cried when Harry hit something inside of her that made her body tingle. She’d felt nothing like it before but she was sure it wasn’t just something physical he was nudging into. It was something emotional. She was doomed to his charm. Doomed to fall for him whether she wanted to or not. But how could she not?
Harry pushed himself up, his hands still wrapped around hers, “Okay, angel?” His soft, beautiful eyes would haunt her. Dark lashes and a dark limbal ring that lined his already perfect shade of green…
“It just… it feels so good, Harry. You’re making me feel so good,” she panted her words.
Harry dragged his gaze from her eyes down to her tits, “Want you to ride me, okay? Want to see how you fuck yourself on me.”
Nodding her head Harry slid himself out with a soft hiss as he grasped his cock and watched the tiniest bit of liquid gush from her pussy. She’d only gotten wetter as he fucked her.
Harry took her hand and brought it to his lips, “What are you doing to me, Y/n?”
She sat up as they kept their eyes locked and Harry grasped the back of her neck and kissed her again. They sat in the middle of his massive bed, both on their knees, naked and kissing urgently until Harry sat back and pulled Y/n with him, dragging her body over his, never letting their lips part.
She straddled his lap as he grasped her hips and pressed her wet cunt to his impossibly hard erection. When he’d finally laid his back into the mattress she placed her palms over his pecs and felt his hands at her ass, guiding her up so she could put him back in as quickly as possible.
Letting her fingertips travel over his chest, feeling the hair on her palm, the sturdy muscle under his soft skin, she scraped lightly and leaned down to lick his nipple. She smiled when he moaned and as badly as she wanted to have his cock back inside of her she needed to show her affection to his gorgeous body. At least a little.
Moving her lips to his other side she licked over his pebbled nippled and looked up at his face. His eyes were closed and his mouth was dropped open. His chest was rising and falling rapidly as she nipped with her teeth gently.
Harry groaned and opened his eyes, lifting his head to watch her work over him with her teeth and her tongue, “Fuck, baby.”
Y/n grinned and lifted her mouth from his skin, “Harry, your body is fucking incredible. I could lick and kiss it all day long.”
With her eyes on his she leaned down and stuck out her pink tongue to drag up from the underside of his peck up to his other nipple. She pulled it into her mouth and scraped her teeth over it before kissing it. She dotted warm pecks upward to his clavicle and licked as she went.
Harry’s whimpers grew desperate as he watched her lick and kiss his skin. But he needed to have her on him. His cock was aching and with the sweet and adoring attention she was giving him with her tongue and her lips he was going mad.
Harry grasped her hips and the pathetic whine that fell from his throat had her peeking up at him again, “Please, angel. I need you to fuck me.”
And well, that was all it took. He had said please after all. She lined up herself over his tip and began to sink over him, her pelvis tilted into him, “Okay, baby. I’ll fuck you now. God I need you too…” they moaned loudly as she slid over him until her pussy lips were kissing the very base of his cock.
She kept her hands pressed to his chest as she gently rocked herself over him. Harry moved her up and down slowly, keeping his hands on her bottom, and watched her pretty face contort at the feel of him splitting her pussy apart on his big cock.
“God you’re already creaming all over baby. So fucking wet I can hear it.” Harry spoke through gritted teeth. He loved the way she looked on top, her tits gently jiggling at each roll of her hips, her wet mouth dropped open, her eyes fluttering open and closed in ecstasy.
“You make me so wet, Harry. No one gets me wet like you. I need you…” she groaned as she bucked her hips down over him.
“Yeah? Need me, baby? I can tell…” he gasped when she clenched over him, “Can tell by the way you’re fucking yourself on me. Gonna get yourself off on my cock, angel?”
Y/n keened when Harry lifted his hips up the tiniest bit, forcing his cock deeper yet. A delicious sting.
“Harry… fuck!”
Harry breathed in a shaky breath and pulled at her elbow to bring her body down toward his. He wanted more contact. Wanted her closer. Wanted to kiss her as they both released together because he could tell she was nearly there.
The moment her lips were pressed to his he bent his knees slightly and tilted his pelvis upward so he could thrust into her as she fucked herself down onto him. Wet squelches and soft gasps surrounded them as they kept their bodies connected, on edge, trembling.
One of Harry’s hands smoothed down to her bottom while he took his other to bring her fingers into his. He wanted it sensual, erotic, soft, lusty. There was something about fucking Y/n and having his lips on hers and her hand in his that was making his heart swell with affection. He’d never have enough of her.
She shivered over him and he knew it wasn’t because she was cold. There was no way her body was cold with the way they had been going at it. No. He knew her shiver was because she felt it. Felt what he was. Knew this was it for them.
Her breasts were smushed into Harry’s chest and her thighs were squeezing around him as she continued pushing herself down over him. Her small hand in his with her fingers threaded between his was warm.
“Shit… you coming baby?” Harry felt her limbs tense and the tight muscle at her entrance grip around his cock in pulses.
“Fuck… yess! Fuck!” She couldn’t stop her orgasm from finding its way to the surface. She hadn’t expected it to burst out of her so quickly but having her hand surrounded by his while his cock was buried inside of her was not a casual sex move and that notion alone had her spinning out of control.
He was holding her hand and kissing the edge of her mouth through it all and now that she was coming around him, he squeezed her hand tighter and whispered to her through her orgasm, “There you go, angel. Made for me, aren’t you? My good girl…” she writhed and whimpered in her climax and he could tell it felt good. Could tell she was getting what she deserved.
Harry let her spasm around him for a moment longer until he couldn’t hold on for another second. He lifted his hips and gasped as he spurt into his condom. Gushes of hot come filling the rubber tip as he throbbed inside of her.
She felt his prick pump against her slick walls as he came. His breath was caught in his throat as he released into his condom. The grasp he had on her hand was locked down hard. She would have complained that it hurt but the last thing she wanted to do was have him release her in any way. She always wanted this with him. The closeness, the intimacy. The insane connection they had.
When Harry finally filled his lungs with air and his face relaxed her felt her slumped into his chest. He loosened his grip on her hand but didn’t let go. He wouldn’t let go. Never.
She’d passed out. Simply exhausted after Harry had handled her body like he owned it. Exhausted after giving every inch of his body her attention and love because damn did he deserve it. He was breathtaking. The man deserved to be worshipped. He was stunning and the way he gave himself to her was mind-blowing.
. . .
Blinking her eyes open the morning light was barely peeking through the window. It must have been super early. He was still asleep next to her. Hair a mess, cheeks smushed, small breaths puffed out from his mouth (he slept with his mouth opened she learned after the few times they’d slept together).
She was feeling something deeper for Harry than she wanted. The guilt about ignoring Jimmy and going home with another man was eating at her. Jimmy didn’t deserve that. He was a nice guy. A normal guy. But Harry was different. And it wasn’t just because he was hot and famous. It was because they understood one another in a way that she didn’t know if she’d ever get to with Jimmy. And that didn’t feel great.
Especially because Harry was… well he was Harry Styles. Falling for him would be dangerous and she’d have her heart broken. She could fall for him too. Another round of sex like they’d had the night before and it would be over for her. She’d tip over the edge of no return and need him in a way he’d never need her. She might just have to settle for Jimmy in that case. Perhaps that would really be as good as it could get for her.
Slowly slipping out of his bed she went to the bathroom with her phone.
She powered it back on and cringed when she had a couple of missed notifications from Jimmy. Not only had she kind of betrayed his trust and slept with someone else after he asked her to come over, but she wasn’t totally honest with Harry either. Hadn’t told him about the guy she’d been dating. A guy she was working on getting to know and could see herself dating long-term. Well, she could have seen Jimmy as someone long-term had it not been for Harry being so goddamn perfect.
Could she see herself with Harry long-term? She could actually but the reality was he probably didn’t see her in the same way. She chalked up his words and the intimacy with him just being a very sensual and sexual and vulnerable man. He was probably that way with everyone he slept with. She didn’t want to assume it was because he liked her just as much as she liked him.
Splashing her face with water she sighed as she looked at herself in the mirror. She knew what she needed to do. To protect herself. To make things right.
She needed to go home and tell Jimmy everything. And then she needed to decide if she could see herself being exclusive with Jimmy or not. Could she settle? She’d let Harry get under her skin. She didn’t know how he’d done it so fast but maybe it was just his natural charm. Whatever it was, she knew Harry would be okay. Knew it was unlikely that he felt anything close to how she was feeling.
Her Uber driver arrived faster than she thought. She rushed out of Harry’s bedroom, down the stairs, and out the door, before she even had time to write a little note. She fully intended on doing that but it was too late. It was time to put it all behind her. Maybe this was going to get Harry out of her system once and for all.
But she could be dumb at times.
. . .
Instead of coming clean to Jimmy right away, she broke down the moment she got into her bedroom. She regretted everything. The way she handled Jimmy. The way she gave in to Harry. The way she left Harry without saying goodbye.
What was she thinking? She was too young to be going through a midlife crisis but she was at an age where she needed to grow up and start making big girl decisions. Settle down with a good man. Jimmy was surely that man. A normal guy. Someone in her league. But maybe she so easily gave in to Harry because Jimmy still had his dating profile active and that stayed with her in the back of her mind. Their casual dating relationship meant they were allowed to see who they wanted.
But Harry was… There was something there. Something else that she didn’t have with Jimmy. That she wasn’t sure she’d ever have. But that was why she needed to cut it out with the famous man. He was famous. He was exceptional in so many ways and there was simply no way he’d feel for her what she felt for him. He was too good to be true.
The messages from both men continued through the day. She shut her phone off when she got to work. She just couldn't face it. Couldn’t deal with it. Tomorrow. She’d figure it out tomorrow. Explain everything to Jimmy and to Harry. Harry would be okay. She knew he would be. He’d probably felt relief that she didn’t stay in fact. Made it easier for him so he didn’t have to break it to her that that should be their last time together. Though, she hadn’t read any of the messages he sent (she simply couldn’t bring herself to) she was sure he would be the easy one to deal with. Jimmy, though… She hoped he’d forgive her. But she knew she needed to call it off with Jimmy as well. Nice enough, a great guy for just about anyone. But maybe not for her. Especially not when she couldn’t stop comparing him to Harry. So she’d made up her mind. She’d call Jimmy the following day and sort things out with him. Tell him they had a good run and then that would be that.
But sometimes things in life don’t always go as one imagines. Do they?
With her phone shut off, she had missed the calls and the subsequent texts from both men. She had not realized that they’d both texted her that they were going to be waiting for her at her house when she got home because they needed to talk. She had not imagined pulling up to her little rented bungalow to see three men standing in her front yard.
There was Brad, mediating the whole scene, standing between the two men she’d been ignoring for the entirety of the day.
Then there was Jimmy with a red face and posture that told her he was feeling quite insecure about something. Of which she was sure she had a good idea.
And there was Harry. Pacing. With his hands in his hair and his mouth moving as he said something that had him excited.
The three men suddenly stopped as she pulled in front of the house. All three sets of eyes on her. She had been avoiding simply responding to them. Assuming she’d have time to get her thoughts together. But now she had no choice. She was being forced to confront them.
Harry began to walk toward her car first. But then Jimmy followed too. Both men spoke to one another animatedly as she opened the door.
“Nahh… back off man,” Harry spoke to Jimmy but kept his eyes toward Y/n.
“No. I’m not going to back off…” Jimmy quickened his pace when he noticed she’d gotten out of her car.
“Y/n…” Brad spoke over the two bickering adults, “You probably have some explaining to do to these two. Do you mind taking over here?”
“I… yeah. Of course. I’m so sorry, Brad.” She looked between the three men as Brad waved and walked back into the house.
Jimmy’s face was bright red, “Y/n, tell him we’ve been dating. He seems to think you are his girlfriend.”
Looking at Harry she opened her mouth to respond but stopped at the insinuation that Harry implied she was his girlfriend.
Girlfriend?
Stepping into her yard Harry stood in front of her and then Jimmy next to him both men looking at her in question.
“Uh… I’m… I don’t know what to say. I’ve been dating Jimmy,” she gestured at the man and looked at Harry, “but we’re not exclusive, and then… Well, I saw Harry last night,” she stuttered her words. Her heart was pounding. She was not looking like a good person in this situation. But it was too late now.
“I don’t care that you were dating someone. What happened between us last night… that meant something to you. Didn’t it?” Harry spoke as he gently brushed his fingers against hers, a little spark of life, a signal that he was there and she was safe with him.
She was a bit stunned by all this. Hadn’t expected Harry to say that. Hadn’t expected to see both men in her yard, apparently arguing over her.
“But we’ve been dating for almost 2 months. I think she and I have something special. And I know we haven’t specifically said we were exclusive but–“
“Well, I’ve known her for nearly… what 5, 6 months now?” Harry looked at her as he spoke.
Y/n stood still looking from Harry to Jimmy who continued, “So what is it? Are you with me or are you with him? I didn’t know you were dating someone else.” He was flustered. In comparison to Harry, he was not calm nor gentle.
“I… I’m sorry,” She shook her head and felt her face grow hot and her head dizzy. She was embarrassed.
There wasn’t anything else to say. Except that she was sorry. She really had liked Jimmy. But with the way she folded so fast with Harry, she knew she didn’t like Jimmy as much as she assumed. Because all Harry had to do was say a few nice things to her to get her back to his place and in his bed. She was a weak bitch. What could she say except sorry?
“Look. I’m sorry. Both of you. I have some explaining to do and I was going to… but why are you both here?”
“I came here to talk about this morning with you, Y/n. You left without goodbye and didn’t respond to my texts,” Harry spoke first.
“And you didn’t text me back last night when I thought we were making plans. I was worried about you.”
Blinking her eyes she realized without a doubt, that she was the heavy here. The rotten one. This was all her fuckup. Both men came to find her because she’d blown them both off. Ran away from her problems.
But she fully intended on being truthful. She just needed a minute.
“Fuck.” She cursed and ran a hand through her hair. “I was going to talk to you both. I just… I don’t know. I felt bad that I flaked out on you, Jimmy. I was never going to meet up with you last night after work and I should have told you that off the bat. And I was going to tell you but then I saw Harry and… I just felt guilty so I figured I’d apologize later.”
“That’s… kind of fucked up, Y/n,” Jimmy said as he put his hands on his hips.
She nodded and looked at him. He was upset, “I know. I’m sorry.”
“And so you didn’t want to come see me last night because of him?” He gestured toward the man standing to his left.
Shaking her head she looked from Jimmy to Harry, “No. Before I even realized Harry was at the restaurant for dinner I planned on just going back home after my shift. I just never got around to telling you that. I didn’t want to see you last night.”
“But you went back to Harry’s house?” Jimmy asked.
She sighed, nodding, “Yes. I didn’t plan on it. It just happened.”
The silence was all-consuming. Y/n didn’t want to look at Jimmy’s disappointed face any longer so she glanced at Harry whose energy was opposite of Jimmy's. He was all soft eyes with a gentle expression. Comforting. She smiled at him. He felt safe.
“Okay. Fair enough,” Jimmy spoke suddenly, “So that’s it? Should I expect to hear from you again or…” he shrugged and looked at her hoping to hear something that gave him anything to hang on to.
Should he expect to hear from her? She liked him. She really did. But she could see it now that she didn’t like him enough. Even if perhaps she and Harry didn’t wind up together, the way she fell into Harry’s bed so easily and the way she lit up at Harry’s smile in that moment. The way he made her feel… it was over with Jimmy. She’d never feel that way with him.
“I think that’s it. Yeah. I’m sorry, Jimmy. I’m not sure what I was thinking but… I think this has run its course. I’m sorry,” she shook her head at the whole situation. She felt awful. Jimmy had been nothing but kind. But she just wasn’t feeling it she guessed. Not when she was feeling so much more with Harry.
She watched Jimmy walk away to his car and felt Harry’s hands pull at hers, “It meant something. Didn’t it?”
Looking up at the tall man in confusion she responded, “What?”
“Last night. I know you left without saying anything but now I get it. You were feeling guilty about that bloke. Right?”
Swallowing thickly she nodded, “Yeah… I just… I don’t know why I went back with you but it felt natural and this morning I was overwhelmed with guilt and didn’t really know what you wanted. You know?” She raised her brows and continued, “You’re… you. You’re Harry Styles. I’m just… me. Felt like I was playing some silly game with myself that was just gonna get me hurt.”
Harry’s hands cupped her face softly, “No games. I like you a lot. Couldn’t stay away from you. Last night felt like the beginning of something really special and I hoped you felt it too.”
She stayed silent as she looked into his eyes. His warm hands on her skin felt soft and tender. His thumbs grazed her cheekbones and she felt it. She did. She knew exactly what he meant. To hear him say it, though…
“I need to know what that means for you. Because, yeah. I felt it. I just don’t want to get hurt, Harry. You’re gonna go back on tour and you’ll see your ex and some other woman and I’m gonna get left behind again–“
“My ex? I didn’t see my ex. Nor do I have plans for that,” he laughed softly as he spoke.
“Well, I mean… I did see her post about crossing paths with someone and that cross necklace,” she shook her head and felt silly for even bringing it up as she looked at the expression on Harry’s face.
“She called me and I answered. She thought that meant something but really it was just me being nice. I don’t miss her at all. Have no intention of seeing her again on any level.”
She nodded at his words, “And the pretty woman that was with you on tour. Lots of rumors there too. Which is fine! You’re totally allowed to see other–“
Harry pulled her in close, stopping her mid-sentence, “She’s a friend. Someone I trust who I can vent to and confide in. She gave me lots of advice about you, angel. Told me to go after you. Told me she hadn’t seen me so excited about anyone ever before. I couldn’t stop talking about you.”
“So, you never slept with her?”
Harry shook his head and fit his fingers between hers, blinking softly, “Never. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
Now she felt really bad. He’d been missing her and thinking of her all the while she was off with Jimmy trying to erase Harry from her mind, “I had no idea. I’m sorry that I didn’t… I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for. I admit, I didn’t try hard enough to stay in touch. That’s on me. But I don’t want that to ever happen again.”
“But now you must really think I’m trash. After all that?”
Harry shook his head, squeezing her hand, “Not at all, angel. I want to be with you. Don’t want you with anyone else, though,” he laughed, “And I’m not gonna think about whatever you had going on with that guy because you were just trying to get to know someone else. You thought it was over with us. But I don’t want it to be over. I want it to be me and you.”
She stood stunned. She just hadn’t expected any of this but it was more than she could have hoped for. She genuinely thought she’d misread all the signs. Yes, last night it felt like intimacy and deep connection but figured that was all coming from her end. She had tricked herself into believing he didn’t feel the same.
“Well? What do you think? Would you want to be my girlfriend? Make it official?”
She swallowed the grit down her throat and blinked her eyes at Harry. It all felt like a dream. Surely it was a dream.
“I do want that. So much, but…” she shook her head just as Harry grinned wide.
“So you’re my girlfriend now?”
Y/n puffed out a laugh and nodded, “I guess so. Yeah.” She couldn’t tamper her smile.
Harry released one of her hands and gently held the back of her neck as he leaned down to kiss her. And just like every other time her lips connected with his, she felt flushed and buzzy. Her skin prickled with excitement. Her sinuses burned as she held back stupid tears.
But she needed to say something else. And if this fiasco had taught her anything it was that she needed to be better at communicating.
Parting from the kiss, Harry kept her in his arms as she tilted her head to look up at him, “But what happens when you leave again, Harry? To another city? Another country? What does that mean for us?”
He brought his lips to her forehead before looking down at her again, his crystalline green eyes taking her in. He inhaled a deep breath, a serious expression on his face suddenly that had Y/n worried about the next words he was going to speak, “Come with me.”
He squeezed her closer if that were possible and she opened and closed her mouth a few times, shocked at his words and at what was happening. It was crazy, wasn’t it? To just leave everything behind and travel with Harry wherever he went? Surely this was just a beautiful dream she’d be waking from at any minute.
Harry shook his head and the edge of his pink lips quirked up on one side, “I won’t take no for an answer.”
A/N: This is the last part of this series! What did you guys think? Would you like to see some more of these two? Thank you so much for reading!
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The porch lights are all turned off, so the glowing from the pool is the only thing illuminating the back yard, and it looks a little eery with the steaming water and the dark forest surrounding them. A little magical too. Like mystic healing waters in a hidden cave. He could see a mermaid surfacing, taking him with her on a new quest.
Huh. Maybe that would be a nice plot point for the next campaign.
Steve is sitting on the steps that connect the terrace to the pool area of the backyard, his back turned to Eddie. He’s smoking, judging from the low glow of a cigarette in the dark. Eddie hasn’t seen Steve smoke since like…his first senior year.
His back looks tense and if he heard Eddie opening the door and stepping outside, he doesn’t show it. Just keeps staring into the distance, hardly moving, only lifting his hand to his lips and taking a shaky drag of the cigarette. He seems anxious and fidgety and it sort of breaks Eddie’s heart.
He sits down next to him. Doesn’t say anything, doesn’t look at him, just joins him there and stares into the distance too. Steve finishes his cigarette and stubs it out on the floor next to him.
“You have really bad memories here.” Eddie states it more than he says it. “Upside Down unrelated.” He turns to look at him. “Right?”
Steve lifts his head a tiny fraction, his jaw tense. He looks over at Eddie. Breathes. Looks away again, breathes some more, eyes glued to the floor. Eddie can see tears forming in his eyes. He can also see Steve desperately trying to hide them, force them back.
It doesn’t work.
Then, giving up, Steve just nods.
“Yeah,” he says.
Eddie just watches him for a couple seconds, then redirects his gaze to the pool and shrugs. “I don’t think we should hang out here then.”
Steve immediately scoffs. “Try telling that to the kids.”
“Maybe you really should,” Eddie says after a pause. Steve’s expression turns a little confused.
“What do you mean?” he asks. “I tried. Were you not there?”
“No, I was,” Eddie confirms. “Which is how I know that you’re not really the best at standing up for yourself.”
Now Steve actually looks a little offended.
Eddie sighs. “Just…Look, I know you can’t say no to the little shrimps, but they love you. And if they knew how serious you are about not wanting to hang out here, I’m sure they’d stop pestering you about it.”
“What…what do you expect me to tell them, Eddie?”
Eddie shrugs. “How bout the truth?”
Steve looks at him like he just suggested to paint the moon in a dark shade of pink. “The truth?” he repeats and scoffs again, a little disbelieving this time. “Sure,” he then says, sarcasm dripping from his words. “Sure. Next time, I’ll just tell them the truth. I’ll just tell them, in as much detail as possible, about how my father beat me black and blue in every single fucking room of this house and had me scrub my own blood from the banister after he shoved me a little too hard, so, excuse me, if don’t want to spend more time than absolutely necessary here." His voice breaks. "But I just haven’t saved up enough money to move out because, guess what? Having rich parents isn’t all that great when they don’t give a shit about you.”
He tried to make it a big sarcastic speech, but he’s crying by the end of it and Eddie just pulls him against his side, holding him tight. Steve sobs into his chest, curling his arms around Eddie’s back, holding onto him and Eddie’s heart breaks more for him. The boy in his arms is so, so broken, and he’s way too good at hiding it.
“Well, maybe not in those words,” he whispers into Steve’s hair and tries to blink his own tears away, that come at the thought of Steve, soft, sweet, loving and caring Steve, being hurt and hurt and hurt again, by his own parents. And nobody being there to stop it, unlike his mother and Wayne were for Eddie.
Steve clings to Eddie and Eddie just presses him closer, won’t let him go until Steve decides to pull away, softly stroking his back, trying his best to give him comfort.
“I’m so sorry you had to go through that, Steve,” he whispers and when Steve actually detaches his head from Eddie’s chest, pulls away a little and looks at him, Eddie can’t help but gently cup his face in his right hand and wipe one of the remaining tears away.
“S’not your fault,” Steve whispers and Eddie softly shakes his head.
“No, I know,” he says. “But it’s not your fault either.”
Steve takes a deep breath, dodges Eddie’s eyes again.
“I really think you should try talking to them again,” he then tries. Steve immediately turns defensive. “Eddie-”
“No, I just- I mean this is important, you can’t-”
“Eddie, I can’t-”
“You can’t let them just-”
“Don’t make me-”
“You can’t rely on Robin to fend for you all the time, I-”
“Yes, I can, she would-”
“Steve!”
“No, Eddie, what?” Steve looks at him, desperate. “I can’t do it, what do you- what do you want from me?”
He looks so devastated. Eddie pulls him a little closer with the hand still on his cheek. He looks at him. Bites his lip. “I want you to be alright.”
That seems to shut Steve up.
“I care about you, Steve. I care so much.” His left hand slowly reaches for Steve’s hand, grabs it, squeezes it tentatively. “Maybe...even a little too much.”
It’s as far into a confession as he’s gonna go, but Steve understands. Eddie knows. His eyes open and honest.
They’re just staring at each other. Steve squeezes back.
God, they’re so close.
“Do you wanna know one of the reasons?” Steve asks, eyes glassy, voice exhausted. Why is he even prettier, when he cries? It’s unfair to the world but even more unfair to Steve. It shouldn’t look good to be in pain.
“Reasons?” Eddie frowns.
“Why my dad…” Steve shrugs. “Well…why he…did it.”
When Eddie catches onto the words, he softly shakes his head. “Those weren’t reasons, Steve”, he says, his left thumb gently wiping the last remaining tear off of Steve’s cheek. “Those were excuses.”
Steve leans even more into Eddie’s touch and closes his eyes. He sighs. “Either way.”
Eddie waits until Steve opens his eyes again, looking at him expectantly.
“Why?”
Steve smiles, but it’s still sad. Eddie can see him swallow.
“Because of this,” Steve whispers, his left hand curling around Eddie’s. “Because I like kissing boys.”
For whatever reason, Eddie isn’t surprised. Not that Steve ‘likes kissing boys’ at least. He is surprised, however, at how similar he phrased it. For a second Eddie’s thrown back, to more than five years ago, when he, with tears on his face and an ice pack pressed against his busted lip, confessed to Wayne that maybe the rumors about him weren’t that wrong after all. That it wasn’t true when they called him gay or a fag, not fully at least, because he liked girls, he kissed one just last week and he enjoyed it, he did, he swore.
“But I just sort of…like kissing boys too.”
“Ed, my boy,” Wayne told him back then and pulled him into an awkward but warm hug. “There ain’t nothin’ wrong with that.”
“Steve,” Eddie breathes and takes Steve’s face in both of his hands to make him look at him. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”
Steve’s eyes are still glazed and he’s still so pretty it hurts and he slowly bites down on his lip, which- unfair, if you ask Eddie. So unfair.
“Are you sure?” Steve asks and it seems almost as if he’s not asking about the kissing thing anymore. Well, yes, but in a different context. His gaze falls down onto Eddie’s lips and Eddie has to take a sharp breath.
“Oh, I’ve never been more sure of anything,” Eddie replies, his voice barely above a whisper and Steve’s lips pull into a hesitant, soft smile before he shifts a little closer.
“So you…you won’t mind, if I-”
He’s cut off by Eddie kissing him. Steve melts into it, one hand coming up to tangle in his hair and pull him closer, the other fisting the fabric of Eddie's shirt. Eddie kisses Steve deeper, softly hums into it and he can feel Steve letting himself go.
Steve feels safe with him, Eddie realizes.
It almost makes him wanna cry.
When they break apart, they just stare at each other for a second. Still close, Eddie’s hands still cupping Steve's face, Steve’s still in Eddie’s curls and shirt.
“This,” Steve says, a little breathless, which- what? Eddie caused that? “This is certainly a good memory."
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#robins out of town btw#so she's not there to argue for steve#and this is the first time they all hung out at steves#and only eddie realizes the discomfort on steves face
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I don't think I've ever really spoken in depth about how much I love Lauriam as a character, which is honestly a crime because out of all the Union Leaders I'd probably have to crown him as my number one favorite.
I love Lauriam not only as a character (pink, sibling plotline) but also as an example of how much prequels can recontextualize an entire character. While Ventus is also an example of this, I think we all knew that he probably had some sort of messed up past that landed him in the clutches of Old Man Xehanort. Marluxia, on the other hand, had absolute zero background to infer from his screentime. He was the villain, you're not really meant to think too hard about him and how he became who he is because he sucks and you hate him.
I don't think there were many people chomping at the bit wanting to get info about his past. Like, it would've been cool to get, but I don't think a background for Marluxia was necessary for the story at that point in time. His role was to establish the organization as a threat to Sora and the other guardians, and that was pretty much the extent of it.
And then Union X happened, and Lauriam entered stage right into a tragedy where his fate was already sealed. You look at Lauriam with his polite little smiles and cute little chibi animations and immediately think "what is this man up to" because you are already primed to distrust him on principle due to COM. Did not help his case that he was introduced in the cutscene immediately following the death of Strelitzia, painting a huge target on his back. Fandom reaction was hostile towards him before he was even fully on screen. Occam's Razor, the most obvious answer is the correct one. Lauriam is the obvious suspect because of his actions in the future, so he must be the killer. Literally him just existing in a scene caused more ire to build against him.
But then the Shift Pride cutscene happened. Then it was revealed that Lauriam and Strelitzia -the girl who so many thought he killed- were siblings, and that he was quite worried for her wellbeing, actually.
Every cutscene a clearer picture of who Lauriam is a person was painted, and soon you stopped looking at him with distrust, and it's replaced with the question of "What happened to you?". What happened that caused Lauriam, someone who has been shown to care deeply and immensely about the people he loves, someone who is willing to do anything for those people, become Marluxia? It became increasingly obvious that they were incredibly different people, even though Marluxia came from Lauriam.
And this isn't to say that there was no connection between the two. Lauriam seemed to be incredibly self-confident in his abilities, enough to be pretty steadfast in his resolve to square up with goddamn Maleficent of all people (even if he did get his ass kicked). There's also his very intense anger, as seen in the cutscene where Ventus confesses to being the reason why Strelitzia "vanished", as well as a bit in the scene where he's at Ventus's bedside.
This is all to say that Lauriam was not a necessary addition to the khux cast, he very well could've been swapped with a random new character and the plot probably would've worked fine, all things considered. But because it's Lauriam -the somebody of a character that has already been established to be a prick- it gives his whole plotline a hell of a lot more punch. If it was a new character, people probably wouldn't have been as distrusting of him right of the bat, the sibling plotline would be sweet, but because it's Lauriam and we know how he ends up in the future, it becomes a hell of a lot more tragic. How did the change happen? He's tragic because we know that whatever he does will lead to the outcome of him losing his heart and falling to darkness, something that is essentially the exact antithesis of the keyblade wielder mission statement.
Lauriam is someone who was made to struggle against the destiny that was written out for him with a neat pen and ink, and someone who was doomed to fail in every regard. He could not save his sister, he could not defeat Maleficent, he could not help Ventus, he could not keep his memories when thrown into the future. He couldn't do anything about it.
I realize this is all rounding back around to "the inherent tragedy of prequels" but it's true.
...and yeah that's basically it. I have a lot more thoughts about this guy but I feel like if I write anymore I'm just gonna sound completely incomprehensible bc I'm very tired. Thanks for reading, and don't forget to sparkle on
#Rosie rambles#lost the plot a bit but I think it's decently comprehensible#kingdom hearts union x#khux#kh lauriam#lauriam#kh marluxia#marluxia#character analysis#meta#i think
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I was rethinking the bookshop meta I wrote a while ago and realized I was not thinking big enough.
The bookshop has always been Aziraphale's version of Crowley's plants (his trauma reenactment), but also, absolutely everything Aziraphale does in Season 2 is a re-creation of Heaven's role. Crowley's behavior also encompasses everything, not just his plants.
I've seen it suggested that centering Aziraphale and Crowley's trauma histories is reducing their characters to behaving like just reactive victims instead of survivors with agency. Or worse, it's "excusing bad behavior." I don't agree with either of these, because I feel that part of Good Omens is about how large, powerful systems affect individuals, and so the context of every character's decisions matters a lot to the overall themes of the story. Everyone starts out working within a system they believe to reflect reality and then has to learn how to break free of it. You cannot really illustrate that without having the characters start out being genuinely trapped with different ways of coping with their reality.
This is an attempt at a pretty big-picture meta. Although it isn't a plot prediction, it's how I think some of the series' themes are going to progress. It starts out perhaps a little grim, but in the long run, it's how Aziraphale's character growth and relationship with Crowley can simultaneously be massive for them as individuals, a crucial part of the overarching narrative message of the series, and symbolic of a change in all of Heaven and Hell, all while allowing the themes to continue to prioritize human free will.
In short, it's about Aziraphale's problems, but it's also meant to be an Aziraphale love post.
All of the below exists in tandem with Good Omens as a comedy of errors. Just because there are heavy ideas does not mean they will not also be funny. Look back on how much of Season 2 seemed silly until we started to pick it apart! One of the amazing things about Good Omens is how it manages to do both silly and serious at once! (I feel like that's maybe a little Terry Pratchett DNA showing through. "Laughter can get through the keyhole while seriousness is still hammering on the door," as Terry himself said.)
Aziraphale has really embraced his connection to Crowley in Season 2, and he has also become considerably more assertive toward Heaven and Hell. These are both major growth points compared to the beginning of Season 1.
However, again, we have the concept of growing pains...Aziraphale is starting to re-create Heaven's role in his relationship with Crowley and humanity. It's really obvious with the Gabriel argument and the I Was Wrong Dance, but I think we see it all over the place: he seems to feel any serious dissent is a betrayal. He also seems to assume there's a dominance hierarchy and he, of course, is on top. Now that he's decided to take control of his own future, then surely that does mean he's the one in control, right?
With all that said, he still seems to have trouble being direct about the feelings that make him most vulnerable. He manipulates people and engineers situations in which he can try to get his emotional needs met rather than saying things outright (case in point: the Ball).
Like I pointed out in the bookshop meta: subconsciously, he's playing the role of God, modified with what God would be if She were everything he wants Her to be. He's generous, almost infinitely sweet, always does what's best for people...or, at least, what he believes is best for people. During the Ball, Aziraphale influences the people around him to be comfortable and happy even when they're not supposed to be, and he limits their ability to talk about things he thinks are too rude or improper for happy, formal occasions.
Doesn't this pattern sort of make sense for an angel who's just discovering free will? Like, at the end of Season 1, he made an enormous choice to stand against Heaven and realized he could survive it. Now he's gone a bit overboard with exerting his own will. Unfortunately, while he's learned to question upper management, he's still operating on a fundamental framework of the universe where there have to be two sides and there has to be a hierarchy. Also, since Aziraphale is on the Good side, he of course has to gear his desires into what's Good rather than just what he wants, so he sometimes thinks he's doing things for others when really he's doing things for himself. (For example, matchmaking Maggie and Nina started out as something he wanted to use to lie to Heaven, but by the time he was commenting "Maggie and Nina are counting on me," he seemed sincere, like he had genuinely convinced himself this was for them and not for himself.)
Aziraphale knows Heaven interferes in human affairs, ostensibly on God's behalf. He thinks She should be intervening in ways that are beneficial. What I believe the narrative wants him to learn is that God and Heaven shouldn't be manipulating people at all, not even for Good, and in fact there is no real meaningful hierarchy.
Anyway, a top-down, totally unquestioned hierarchy is the primary social relationship Aziraphale has known, and it's certainly been the dominant one for most of his existence: you're either the boss or the underling, and if someone seriously questions you, they don't have faith in you - they don't respect you.
No, his relationship with Crowley has not always been like that, but they've been creating their relationship from whole cloth, so how would he know it shouldn't become that way, now that it's "real" and out in the open?
No, human relationships aren't like that, but Aziraphale clearly does not see himself or Crowley as human. As the relationship approached something that seemed like it must be "legitimate," Aziraphale would naturally look for a framework to fit it to. And again, the only one he has is the shape of "intimacy," or what passes for it, in Heaven. What has "trust" always meant in all his "legitimate" relationships? It has always meant unquestioning obedience, of course. What have the warm fuzzies felt like in Heaven? Well, praise from the angels above him is nice, so that must be it, right?
Aziraphale even describes being in love as "what humans do," separating out that relationship style. Someday, I think he'll realize he favors the shape of love on Earth, something that's more inherently equal, more give-and-take. Look at how he idealizes it from afar at the Ball. But I think that, like Crowley before Nina pointed it out, Aziraphale maybe hasn't 100% grokked that it can and in fact should work that way for him and Crowley, too. Just like people can desperately want to dance without knowing how to dance, or can desperately want to speak a language without knowing the language, Aziraphale does not instinctively know how to have the kind of relationship where he can be truly vulnerable and handle Crowley's vulnerability as well.
Aziraphale is downright obsessed with French, known as the "language of love." He's trying to learn it the Earthly way. He's not very good at it, but he wants to be.
This pattern is still present during the Final Fifteen even if we assume Aziraphale is asking Crowley to become an angel again out of fear (and I find it very hard to believe that fear doesn't factor in at all). He's still building his interactions off of that Heaven-like framework: he asks Crowley to trust him blindly, he tries to assume a leadership role with a plan Crowley never agreed to and couldn't follow anyway, and he tries very hard not to leave room for an ounce of doubt. He also suggests making Crowley his second-in-command and obviously does not register that this could possibly be offensive. Again, I think this is because for Aziraphale, there has always been a hierarchy in Heaven, it's started to transfer to his relationship with Crowley, and breaking out of that assumption about relationships is going to take more processing than a single argument can do.
As I mentioned in another post, I don't believe Aziraphale had a real choice about whether he accepted the Supreme Archangel position. I think he could sense that he was not getting out of it and chose to look on the bright side, to see it as an opportunity. And instead of looking realistically at how that would feel to Crowley, he tried to sweep Crowley up to Heaven with him using toxic positivity, appeals to morality, and appeals to their relationship itself. Again, mimicking what Heaven has done to him.
To me, "they're not talking" is a big clue that Aziraphale's approach with Crowley is going to be the mistake the narrative really wants him to face. "Not talking" has, thus far, been presented as the central conflict of Season 3! After losing the structure and feedback Heaven gave him, Aziraphale started creating Heaven-like patterns in his relationship with Crowley, and breaking out of those patterns is what he needs to do. Discovering first-hand that Heaven's entire modus operandi is bad no matter who's in charge is how he can do it.
Look, either you're sympathetic to Aziraphale's control issues or you're not. Personally, I am. He's trying so, so hard to be good. I think trying to figure yourself out (which Aziraphale is clearly doing) is hard enough, and when you start balancing what you want for yourself, what you think are your responsibilities, and what other people are actively asking of you, you're bound to fall into the patterns that have been enforced for your whole life or for millions of years, whichever came first.
It is very easy to assume that people should Just Be Better, but it's not actually that simple to be a thinking, feeling person. My anxiety tends to move in a very inward direction and Aziraphale's moves outward. But I'd imagine the desperation and exhaustion are the same.
Unlike Nina, Aziraphale became a rebound mess. I don't think it occurred to either him or to Crowley that there could be any soul-searching, anything but carrying on with the new normal after their stalemate with Heaven and Hell.
Now, instead of getting rejected by Heaven and surviving it, Aziraphale needs to be the one to reject Heaven. It needs to be a choice. And that choice is going to come from realizing that Heaven isn't just poorly managed but also represents a bad framework for all relationships.
How could this happen? Good question. We're obviously not supposed to know yet, although I think picking at existing themes within the narrative could possibly give us hints.
It's possible Aziraphale's character development trajectory will be akin to Adam Young's in Season 1. Please see this stellar post by eidetictelekinetic for more thoughts about it, but basically, in Season 1, Adam saw that the world was not what he wanted it to be and decided his vision was better; as he ascended to power, he took complete control over all his friends and then soon realized that's not what he wants because there's no point in trying to have relationships with people who can't choose you. It's that realization that leads Adam to conclude he doesn't want to take over the world and to reject the role he's expected to play as the Antichrist. Maybe Aziraphale's trip to Heaven is an attempt at a control move during which he'll realize he's defeating his own point.
Aziraphale clearly wants to be chosen. From the very beginning, he's wanted to be special and cared for - just like Crowley has.
Incidentally, I think Aziraphale and Crowley are going to represent pieces of the bigger picture here, and this - first imitating and then rejecting Heaven's relationship style - can both symbolize Heaven's transformation and directly start it (probably in an amusing, somewhat indirect way, like when he handed off the flaming sword to Adam).
If I'm right - which I may very well not be - I think this would all be so, SO cool. Like, "An angel who is subconsciously trying to be a better God" is a concept with so much potential for both tender kindness and incredible darkness. Add to that the comedy-of-errors aspect of "...but even deeper down, he'd much rather just be super gay on Earth" and you have, in my opinion, a perfect character.
I think this could work for Crowley as well. It's obvious that in the Good Omens universe, at least so far, Hell is all about detesting humans and punishing them; Satan seems to genuinely hate humans (unlike in some of NG's other works). Our perspective on this could change, but it potentially puts Crowley in a complementary position to Aziraphale, as a demon who is trying to be "better" than Satan. But this isn't about being "morally better." It's about things having a point. Crowley's exploits usually have a point: they test people. And you can pass his tests! He sincerely likes making trouble, but Crowley doesn't live to punish.
But, once again, the above paragraph would describe a transient phase for this infinitely charming character. Because, again, I think the point will be that in the end, Crowley's deeper-down desire, moreso than testing Creation, is watching it grow with a glass of wine in hand.
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Two Graysons for one:
So we all know that Dick Grayson is supposed to become the greatest Talon of the Court of Owls: The Gray Son, Dick wasn't Mary and John's first child.
Enter Daphne Mary Grayson (Danny Fenton) the firstborn Grayson who dissapeared during Haley's tour in Europe.
The European Court of owls (Ecoo) were impatient for their Gray son and couldn't wait until Haley's arrived in Gotham. So they end up kidnapping Daphne, taken to become the possible Gray son, unaware Mary Grayson was pregnant with Dick at the time. Daphne does get small doses of electrum, but the Ecoo are waiting until she is older to fully convert her in a Talon for the court. During one of the plots to assainate an wealthy business person, an earthquake occurs and Daphne, injured ends up falling through a crevasse that connect to a cave system that directly leads to an ectoplasm pool that she accidently falls in.
Now this where things get tricky. Dick life still plays out the same way (Bruce bait, Robin, Nightwing,etc...) As Nightwing, Dick gets into contact with a magical-infused virus that could very well kill him unless he gets the blood of biological family member (John and Mary are dead, William Cobb has more electrum than blood in him and they cannot synthetisize the virus out of his blood to try put his blood back in him) this looks like it could be the very end of Dick Grayson. Everyone in the Family decides to air out their grievances to their big brother, the bird who brought all of them together. It's also worth mentioning that someone has been murdering influential people that are part of the Court around the world but has started to make their way towards Gotham warning them that their time is up.
Now, last time with Daphne, she fallen in an ectoplasm pool. What we find out is that after that fall, she appears in the states (Meddling Clockwork) unaware how they got there. Daphne gets spotted by Jazz Fenton and decides to be her big sister unaware that Daphne is somewhat disoriented from the ectoplasm and electrum sort of melding together giving Daphne some enhanced abilities like, slight healing, speed and able to go longer without proper sustenance. Daphne's electrum is barely visible around her heart and her eyes are blue with a ring of amber or gold with flecks of green ectoplasm.
The Drs. Fenton decide to "adopt" Daphne to please their daughter, and Daphne becomes Danny Janus Fenton. Canon episodes happen, except I want to say that Phantom Planet may have caused the Metahuman appearance. Danny's parents, while not to hate him anymore , can not get over their guilt that their passion killed their child. Danny is still close to Jazz, Tucker, Dani (Ellie and the clones), Valerie and Wes, surprisingly. Danny and Sam sort of split because Sam could understand that Danny was a murderer and Danny thought that Sam reminded them too much of their court days.
Danny would be genderfluid ( somedays it's Danny, others it's Daphne) since Danny always felt she lacked some control over her life.
Now, how do the Graysons meet? Two days before Dick possibly dies, someone is at the door. Alfred or possibly Tim opens it to inform them that they werent taking visitors before being shocked as the person at the door looks almost exactly like Dick (Tim would know as he has seen John and Mary Grayson before their demise) Danny goes to say that they are here to help their Baby brother as it was announced publicly that Dick Grayson has caught something terrible and was possibly on their last legs. Tim and the rest of the family want to get the validity that this is an actual relative of Dick and not some fake. Danny's D.N.A is uncorrupted enough that they can 100% tell that Danny is actually related to Dick on a much closer scale than they realize like an uncle or second-cousin, and they don't want to risk it. And if it didn't work, Danny wanted to see her baby brother alive before he died.
#dpxdc au#dick grayson#danny phantom#court of owls#siblings au#mary grayson#john grayson#william cobb#dp x dc#danny fenton#batman#jason todd#au#tim drake#alfred pennyworth#damian wayne#cassandra cain#stephanie brown#babara gordon#duke thomas#jazz fenton#jack fenton#maddie fenton#dani phantom#tucker foley#sam manson#dpxdc
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If you don’t already have this in your askbox: Jon Snow from Game of Thrones?
Strengths:
Fairly polite boy
Famously climbed a giant wall
Mystic connection with a giant wolf
Experience with supernatural undead menaces
Weaknesses:
Explicitly knows nothing
Might try to stab Dracula before he knows to go for the heart/cut off the head
Too honest to try his own sneaky plots
Dracula’s control of wolves may outweigh the Stark Wolf Magic
Explicitly knows nothing asdhlgdgskfkfhss
Okay you're right he is a polite boy. And he has that combination of pride and insecurity and commitment to duty that I think equips him well for this task. As a Bastard he can't afford to be anything less than a Paragon (he's got that Mina Harker complex fr fr); as a Stark he's not going to do anything to betray the honor of a house to which he has no rights - it's very like the orphan Jonathan wanting to do a Good Job and make his employer/unacknowledged father figure proud. Just as Jonathan Harker does he combines virtue and deference in a way that it will be very very entertaining for Dracula to abuse. How much can I offend Principle A before he breaks Principle B? That's the good stuff right there.
The question is what he will choose to do once he knows something - that is, post encountering the Girlies. (Now that will be disturbing for him - he's got Oaths to keep and Heroic Virginity to uphold). Protecting the world of Men (and all the tiny babies in it) from undead creatures of the Night is precisely the thing he's sworn oaths about! Does his duty lie in attempting to destroy the creatures in their Lair (and possibly die in the attempt) or to escape and warn the Living about the coming invasion? He has enough encounters in his own source material where he is the Designated Survivor to get the word out that I am willing to give him the benefit of the doubt and say the latter (because in the former he definitely dies).
The wolf question is a hard one. I think Jon will not choose Certain Death if some duty requires him to be alive - but will he view the wolves as Certain Death or will he see them as friends? Hmm. Well if he makes it this far he should know from previous encounters that Dracula can command the wolves and he can't (he may know nothing, but he can learn) so he might make it through this one too.
And then as you say: walls. Does he really free-climb the whole Wall?? A stone wall with ledges and footholds has to be easier than an aphysically high ice wall.
As an aside, I think Jon Snow might be the first character I think would attempt Shovel Assault. Huh!
So yes, I think Jon Snow, Bastard of Winterfell, can survive Castle Dracula.
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I'm in Love with Mr. Hanabusa's Mouth - By Taketa (7.5/10)
I'll save you from your stalker boyfriend! You can move into my house! You can just wear my clothes! You don't need to pay rent! I'm sorry, I was waiting for you to break up with him! I was hoping that you didn't love him! I was waiting! Don't worry I'm better than him!
Himari is a pushover. She has only ever dated one man. A cringe alpha male possessive guy named Shuhei. He knows what he's got. Himari is smart, gorgeous, and she makes good money. She's also easy to manipulate, and her mother is an awful sexist who is guaranteed to suck up to the husband she chooses. Himari is the perfect wife for a bad guy.
Shuhei isn't the RIGHT kind of bad guy.
Himari breaks up with him.
Hanabusa, her handsome coworker, finds out everything reaaaallllyyy fast. Like suspiciously fast. He's been watching Himari. He knows her mom is kind of an abusive shitrag, but he didn’t know if Himari loved Shuhei.
She doesn't, so he literally pops up behind her.
You see, evil mommy and evil ex have teamed up. Shuhei wants to marry her. Her mom agrees. She thinks her own daughter "isn't allowed" to break up with the successful boyfriend the family approves of.
Ewwwwwww.
Hanabusa saves her butt. She can't go home, because she lives with her mom. She's not very independent because of Shuhei.
Hanabusa spoils her in every way, so she can't live without him. No rent. Lots of cute clothes and good food. She gets the innocent romance she never got to have in high school, because Shuhei pushed her into a committed relationship so fast.
Every time she cooks for him in his house he takes a picture of the food.......um.........ok freak.
Also this.
After he moves her in he immediately tries to break her shell. Himari thinks she's unworthy of love, because her mom has sucked the joy out of her.
They go on dates.
She gets used to happiness.
She fights back when mom calls to slut shame her???? Mom finds out that she has a potential new boyfriend, who she is much happier with, and this is her reaction.
Her mother is definitely the kind of woman that thinks girls must marry the first man they bang.
Ewwwwwwww.
Shuhei threatens Hanabusa with a BS lawsuit. Himari is strong enough to run away now, but she's too nice to cause trouble for Hanabusa. Not when he's been so kind and sweet.
She has to stop Shuhei.
Plot twist ahead.
Himari ruins Shuhei's reputation. She goes to his company dinner, and she shames him in front of his employees for his stalking. She says she has already broken up with him, and he needs to leave her the hell alone. It doesn't matter if he uses mom to force a connection with her. She's going to cut ties with mom, until he's gone for good. No contact until then. She's an adult with her own money, and she's living safely with her lover.
She doesn't need them.
Girlboss.
There's some more possessive cuteness. They officially start dating after the BS lawsuit vanishes. Himari calms down. She doesn't have to go home and get abused by her mom anymore. Marriage isn't something she's afraid of anymore.
Hanabusa attacked at the right time, and he helped make a happy end for both of them.
#I'm in Love with Mr. Hanabusa's Mouth#yandere#male yandere#yandere male#yandere boy#recommendations#recs#rec#recommended
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