#yikes this was a slap in the face this morning | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

augustinewrites · 8 months

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+ series summary: as marius von hagen’s assistant, it’s your job to accompany him to certain public functions. you’re used to being in the background, but this time? the event is an engagement party, and he doesn’t need an assistant. he needs a date.

as soon as the elevator opens to the penthouse floor, you pull the key card out of your purse and march straight to the door on your right.

six months ago you would have hesitated. six months ago you would have knocked politely, with a cup of coffee, a muffin, and a kind smile.

now, you slap the key against the scanner aggressively. as soon as it turns green, you push down the handle and lean heavily on the door to let yourself in.

you scrunch your nose as you step over a pair of sloppily discarded high heels, slipping your own off and pushing both pairs aside with a stocking-clad foot. then you venture into your boss’ apartment, deciding to deal with the blonde scrolling through her phone on the couch first.

“you need to leave,” you tell her dispassionately, picking up what you assume is her clutch and tossing it into her lap. “this isn’t a bed and breakfast. mr. von hagen has business to attend to.”

you wait impatiently as she looks you up and down, taking in your office ensemble along with the identification card hanging from your lanyard.

relenting, she lets you herd her out the door without protest, but not before handing off all her contact information in case your boss ‘wants to have fun again.’

you take the little slip of paper (noting the lipstick kiss in the corner), then slam the door in her face.

monday mornings are always the same.

after kicking out sunday’s trash, you grab some aspirin and a glass of water, heading for the master bedroom.

predictably, marius is still passed out. you find him practically spread-eagled in the bed, with only a thin top sheet protecting his modesty.

you’ve learned the hard way that marius sleeps nude, but seeing his toned chest and abdomen, along with the neatly trimmed trail of hair leading below the sheet never fails to make you catch your breath…

you squeeze your eyes shut, telling yourself to snap out of it. he’s your boss, the man who signs your paychecks and is the cause of some of your biggest headaches to date.

“sir,” you whisper harshly from the doorway, reluctant to move closer. when you don’t get a response, you call out to him again, this time at a normal volume. much to your chagrin, his cute sleeping face - mouth slightly parted, brows scrunched - remains unchanged.

huffing, you step around last night’s clothes and empty liquor bottles to rip the curtains open, letting the morning sunshine stream into the room. this action makes marius stir, groaning tiredly as he lays a hand over his eyes.

“sir,” you say again, with more force this time. “you have a consult with the legal team in a half hour.”

“the legal team…” he mutters, still refusing to pry his eyes open.

he continues to grumble uselessly into his pillowcase, clearly intending to make your job as difficult as possible.

…until you check your watch and decide that you can’t waste anymore time coddling him, so you take the half filled glass of water and dump it over his head.

he jerks up with a sputter, glaring at you as he swipes the ice water out of his face.

“there are nicer ways to wake a guy up, you know,” he huffs, shaking the water out of his hair.

you set the glass down, sighing. “if you want to be babied, sir, you should call vincent.”

he mumbles something you’re sure is rude under his breath, pushing wet bangs out of his face before asking, “where’s maia?”

“first of all her name is–” you check the note you’d scrunched in your pocket. “–mia and she left her cell number, home number, and the number of the strip club she works at.” you hold it out to him, humming. “very classy, sir.”

he doesn’t even look at it, so you crumple it back up and stuff it into your pocket.

“yikes. i don’t know why she bothered. i already gave her the speech.” he shrugs, clearing his throat as he recites, “‘last night was incredible. you’re a great girl, but right now in my career–’”

“‘i just can’t give you the relationship you want or deserve,’” you finish, having heard him recycle the practiced line to multiple other hookups in the last three months.

“hey, you memorized it!” he exclaims, lifting his hand for a high five. he lowers it when he sees your unimpressed look. “wrong crowd, i see that now.”

rolling your eyes, you turn around and open the door to his closet, grabbing a set of clothes that costs more than your rent and laying them over your arm as you call over your shoulder, “when i took this job, i didn’t expect to deal with the pussy parade. be honest, are you in some kind of competitive sex tournament?”

“i’m young and single!” he reasons, catching the boxers you throw at his head and quickly slipping them on. “i’m allowed to sow a few oats.”

everyone in the office knows that it’s really about the lawyer from themis getting engaged.

you’ve seen the way marius used to look at her, seen the plain adoration that used to shine in his gaze. it’s why ever since news of her engagement, you go through this every monday— when she comes in to help him navigate the confusing reports and updates of confusing legalese.

his behaviour these past few weeks was a coping mechanism. an unhealthy one, obviously, but who were you to tell that to the president of a multi-billion dollar company?

“whatever you say, sir,” you shrug, shoving the pants and button down into his arms. “get changed. i’ll call vincent and have him let everyone know we’re on our way.”

you step out of the bedroom to let him get dressed, deciding to make yourself busy by starting the coffee maker. as the scent of freshly ground beans fills the penthouse, you take a moment to pull out your phone and double-check your boss’ calendar.

after the meeting with legal, his schedule is relatively clear. only a handful of things you need him to review, along with a spot of press. it’s a relatively easy monday, by all means.

it’s then that berry decides to make an appearance, the adorable russian blue leaping up onto the counter and meowing insistently to get your attention. smiling, you reach out to scratch lightly under his chin.

“what are we going to do with him, huh?” you whisper, scooping him up into your arms. content purrs rumble against your palm as you stroke his fur.

“traitor,” marius scoffs, entering the kitchen. you glance over your shoulder to see him looking somewhat put together. not only is his shirt still untucked, but his hair is still messy and wet and you’re positive he’s still sweating tequila.

he ignores the fresh coffee in favour of grabbing a carton of orange juice from the fridge. he unscrews the cap, flicking it onto the counter so he can take a swig.

“unbelievable,” you mutter under your breath. marius glances over at you, wiping the corner of his mouth with sleeve before holding the carton out to you.

“what? you want some?”

you push it away with a fingertip. “no, thank you.”

he shrugs, screwing the cap back on and shoving it back into the fridge. you and berry watch with equally unimpressed looks as he rummages through the oversized pantry, resurfacing with a box of cereal.

you turn to open a nearby cabinet, grabbing a bowl.

but in those few seconds, he’d already ripped the box open and was scooping cereal out with his hands, pouring handfuls into his mouth.

this is it, you think as he gets crumbs all over his nice shirt. this is what marius von hagen looks like when he hits rock bottom.

_____

you barely make it to the meeting on time.

the whole team is already seated, ready to begin. marius - with the mcdonald’s iced coffee that’d almost made the two of you late in hand - takes a seat at the head of the conference table.

your boss is surprisingly alert despite the fact that his brain is currently steeped in alcohol. he takes notes, asks appropriate questions, makes thoughtful suggestions. it’s one of the things you respect about him. he is a professional first and foremost.

“it seems that’s all for today,” he says once the last subject has been covered. “if there are any other questions, please keep them to yourselves.”

with that, he makes his grand exit.

well…he was a professional most of the time.

you're quick to jump in when the room fills with dissatisfied murmurs. “if you have any questions, please direct them to vincent or myself so we may raise them with mr. von hagen at a later time."

with that, everyone carries on with their day. you head back to your desk with an armload of paperwork for marius to look over and sign. you read the first few pages as you walk, already working out a summary in your head.

you make it to your desk just in time to see rosa following marius into his office.

chatting in his office after a meeting is a fairly common occurance. rosa comes by to help review whatever contracts his staff of corporate lawyers had drawn up, or walk him through any topics confused about.

your phone buzzes with a message from marius.

[marius]: come get me in five to say that we’ll be late for lunch.

what isn’t common is for him to do that.

but you do as he says, knocking politely when the five minutes are up.

“come in!”

“sir,” you begin after sending rosa a small wave. “we’ll be late for lunch if we don’t leave now.”

“lunch?” the young lawyer echoes, sounding confused. “it’s hardly 10am.”

marius clicks his tongue, closing the folder on his desk. “well, you know what they say. early worm gets the worm.”

“that’s not at all correct—”

he’s already nudging you out the door, a respectful hand resting on the small of your back as he guides you away from his office. “see you later, miss!”

“what are you doing?” you ask, feeling your face heat up as you become the object of your coworker’s confused stares. “i have work to do—”

marius pulls you into an empty conference room, closing the door behind you.

“rosa invited me to her engagement party this weekend,” he says, tone clipped.

you’re not quite sure where he’s going with this. “shall i pick out a gift?”

“no, i’ll take care of that,” he tells you. then, with a growing smile that almost always means he’s up to something, he asks, “what are you doing this saturday?”

“i—”

“trick question. i’d like you to accompany me as my date.”

#marius von hagen x reader #tot x reader #tears of themis x reader #marius x reader #i know i said i’d do reo for this au but that’s coming next #i had to get this out of my system

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suengmi · 1 year

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✧ cat and mouse ✧ 5.5k, m

fucking prick, you had scoffed, taking a sip of your iced soy latte. it wasn't often you let your anger get to you, but with chan sitting in front of you with your friend, saying something dumb about how you tripped this morning, you were about to crack.

pairing: bangchan x afab!reader (no pronouns mentioned) genre: etl, angst, fluff, humour, smut, non idol!au warnings/other: mentions of drunk sex, alcohol consumption, fingering-r, oral-r, unprotected sex, thicc reader (bc hell yes and you don't gotta be thicc to enjoy this!! i encourage all to read its not overly descriptive), a/n at end

♡please reblog if you liked! it rly helps and i love to hear your feedback♡

everything about him annoyed you, his stupid fake laugh, the way he playfully flirted with you and never meant any of it. you were never close to chan by any means; he was a part of your friend group. you had seen him a bunch of times, nothing too familiar, but every time you did meet, he absolutely ripped into you, like a school boy teasing his crush. how fucking mature. he was like a mosquito, buzzing around you and annoying you with every sound. if you had not restrained yourself you would have slapped him like one too.

the first time you had encountered him drunk was about a week ago.

chan was laughing, his arms flailing around as he made some joke about how he wouldn't date you. this added fuel to the fire, the fact that he thought that dating you would be something funny in the first place, amuse in his tone as he gestured to you. he had joked to your friends about how you'd look when you wake up, all puffy and funny to see. and the way your clumsiness would annoy him and how you'd be too hard to keep up with.

your mind pulsing with ideas on how to really annoy him, to get him back for what he was saying.

then again, you were drunk as well.

fuck it, you had thought as you had pushed him into his room by the end of the night, cornering him in the hallway. you had told him you knew what would really piss him off.

the party he had held ending up with both of your clothes on the ground in a drunken fog, whispers of how much he frustrated you between your lips as he let you take control, loving the way you talked down to him and put him in his place.

that morning you had left, not saying a word, gathering your clothes to escape his room. what you hadn't noticed was the forlorn expression on his face when you didn't look back.

why you had agreed to go shopping with changbin and chan around a week later, you have no idea. but, you did want a new necklace, though. the one that chan broke on that night in a rush to take your shirt off, was now sitting on your desk at home, sad and unworn. you hadn't spoken to chan about that night, wanting to forget your druken decision. it wasn't like you didn't want to but, what on earth would you say?

a sour expression painted onto your face as you walked beside changbin, chan on the other side. they were talking about some new game changbin wanted to try. you just followed, sipping the last of your coffee as you listened.

"look, didn't you want a new necklace?" changbin had asked, finger pointing to the alternative jewellery store.

unfortunately, there was nothing you really wanted until one specifically stood out to you. a semi-choker silver necklace, small chains hanging from the sides, and two jagged flame knife like ornaments messily placed between. it was perfect. what wasn't perfect was the price.

"three hundred dollars?! yikes."

"yeah, that is pricey." changbin had said, chan coming to his side.

"it is pretty though." chan chimed in, placing his hand on the glass to get a better look. you watched him as he studied the necklace, his bottom lip between his teeth with thought.

"would look better on me than you." he teased.

you sighed, turning on your heel to leave the store. you weren't in the mood for his antics.

"i think i'm gonna go guys, just don't feel the best."

two weeks later, you found yourself back at chan's for one of his parties. nobody knows what you were celebrating, but you were enjoying yourself, at least.

there's just less than twenty people there, some people you didn't know. though chan hadn't been in your friend group for long, he definitely seemed to be making his way around the group with his charm, everyone loving him more and more each day. anytime someone talked to you about him, you'd smile and nod. but once they turned their backs you'd be mocking childishly about how great he was.

chan this chan that bler blah bler shut up.

the longer the night goes on the more you find yourself observing chan. his smile is wide, laughing about something. stupid little prick. like a damn thorn in your side.

changbin hands you a beer from behind as he walks past, distracting you from your petty glare.

"so he broke your necklace? how?" hyunjin asks, lips frowning because he knew how much you loved it. it was your favourite.

"ah, he was just messing around." you say, trying to not remember how it really happened.

any time your mind wanders back to that night. the way his hand slipped around your throat, had your body shivering. how he placed kisses onto your throat, how hungry he was.

huh?

pfft, you say to no one, pissing yourself off with where your mind was going.

oh no, you've summoned him with your thoughts.

"what about me?" chan asks, skipping over to interrupt your conversation.

you stretch your lips into a thin line. "ah it's just-"

"how on earth did you break their necklace?" hyunjin says, gesturing towards you.

chan just stares at you, amuse on his face, like he's going to spill the beans. he waits for your response, brows raised.

"we were just play fighting." you say as you take a swig of your beer.

"play fighting?" hyunjin questions, brows raised.

"yeah, something like that." chan says, small proud expression on his face.

an weird silence sits around you, you're not sure of how to continue.

"i didn't think you were that close." hyunjin laughs, standing from the seat.

chan slides next to you on the couch, replacing hyunjin, swinging one of his legs over to your own. "we got really close-"

crack, your hand slams down on chan's thigh, leaving a bright red mark. "shut up."

the sound of up beat low-fi music echoes off your walls as you arrive back home.

earlier, chan had happily accepted the offer in trade for helping you make some furniture. changbin had thrown the idea to chan, saying he was better with putting furniture than himself. he was kind of right, chan was currently hyper focused like you had never seen before. his eyes darting back and fourth from the ikea instructions. it's not like you were bad at it, you just wanted someone to be emotional support while you probably made it wrong. but chan had taken over, saying he'd built it before.

you make your way down the hall but as you turn the corner from your kitchen, a little bit too fast, you're met with the door frame.

"ah fuck!" you exclaim, hastily trying to find a place to put the drinks on.

chan chuckles, not even offering a hand to help. "should look where you're going stupid."

you groan, rubbing the offending spot with your free hand. "you're only here because i offered to buy you bubble tea."

chan cheekily grins, getting to his feet to grab the tea, not to console you.

"now," he starts, eyes wide with sarcasm. "that's a door frame, not a door."

he's basically patronising you at this point.

"shut the fuck up, you're so annoying." you say through your teeth, swatting in his direction, he's too fast, zippy like a mouse.

"i'd be rich if i had a dollar for every time you told me to fuck off or shut up." chan laughs, poking out his tongue.

you roll your eyes, placing your drink down on the ground.

"it's the small nails, right?" you ask as you fumble with some nails, half of the packet falling to the floor before you can even lift them.

"yeah, those." chan chuckles, pointing in your direction. totally ignoring the embarrassing mess you made.

it's odd, you were actually getting along, well, in a kind of cat and mouse way. when you had said you were getting a larger bed he had joked about how you'd break it in. at first you thought it was funny, but then realised what he was actually meaning. your slaps were anything but gentle, chan pleading for you to stop.

the two of you finished building the bed in no time, both laying back onto your new mattress in triumph. laughs dance in the air as you talk about how chan had held two of the smaller planks in the curves of his butt cheeks.

"i remember you showed me the chopsticks, but planks? colour me impressed."

"yeah, i've out done myself." he laughs, rolling to face you. "did you end up getting that new necklace?"

"nah," you sigh facing him. "too expensive. i'll keep looking."

chan says nothing, lips pouting in thought.

the next morning, you had awoke to a knock at the door.

"who the fuck comes this early?" you had grumbled to yourself, shuffling your bare feet towards the entrance to open the door. when you looked down, you saw a small package, wrapped kind of badly with a note on it. you bent down to pick it up, knees cracking beneath you. it read -

'nah, would look better on you than me.'

"eh?" you said to no one, unwrapping the present to find with that very necklace you had wanted in that store. your fingers ran across the flames, admiring the beauty before you, price tag still in tact.

you're not sure if this was chan apologising, or just another joke. none the less, even if it was a joke you were still going to wear it. it was perfect, and would match with the many silver piercings on your ears.

a vibration startles you, your phone buzzing in your pocket.

'fuck head' the phone chimed, a picture of chan asleep face first on the couch blinking with the phones light.

you hesitantly agree to the video call, probably not your best angle, you think, as you answer it.

"do you like it?" he asks, his hand placing itself behind his head.

"no." you returned dryly, walking back inside, placing it down on the counter. no, you didn't like it, you loved it. "it's okay."

you clear your throat, kind of annoyed by his call. "why are you calling?"

"no reason." he smiles, leaning back against what seems to be his car seat. "thought you'd like it, dude."

"dude." you mock him, pulling a face at the phone.

he laughs, head dipping for a moment. "cute."

ignoring his charm, you sigh. "chan, what do you want? i wanna go back to bed."

"want me to join?" he questions, one brow raising. you're not sure if this is a joke or not, once again, but you're too tired to care.

"whatever."

you watched him sit forward, placing his phone down for a second, before you hear the rustle of his car keys. "i'll see you soon!"

"what?!"

click, chan had ended the phone call. the little shit was waiting in his car the whole time.

so this was where you were at, chan in your bed for some unknown reason. you're not doing anything, just laying in silence, covers up to your chin. it's kinda awkward. you feel sleep tugging at your body already.

"what possessed you to actually come to my house? you know we're not that close." you felt the words of honesty leave your lips.

"i unno."

you tut at him, "yeah we fucked once, but we were drunk. you still annoy the shit out of me."

chan laughs, turning onto his side, absolutely making himself at home. "it was good, though. well, from what i remember."

you scoff, turning to face him. "yeah, it was okay."

the look on his face kind of makes your tummy turn, he looks hurt but he tries to cover it with a laugh. "i can make up for-"

"chan..." you start, hands flinging down onto the bed. "you don't need to joke all the time. it happened, yeah? it is what it is."

"aw c'mon, i can do better." he half sings.

you groan at his antics, sleepiness making you irritated the more he goes on. "you need to stop. you're teasing gets too much sometimes."

"nah you like-"

"this is what i'm talking about. you never take anything seriously. you always make fun of me, and it makes me feel like shit. do you seriously have no indication of how you make me feel?"

chan frowns, looking down to the doona cover. "i just- i don't know."

"what? you what?"

"you're just so easy to tease." he chuckles, his hand grabbing the side of your arm to shake you.

you sit upwards shrugging him off, frustration in your tone as you rub your eyes. "you can leave if you're not gonna take me seriously."

"okay... you're right." he follows, sitting to face you crossing his legs. he fumbles with his hands, "i like you, okay?"

"huh?"

"i like you."

"i don't like you." you return.

"see, this is why i didn't wanna tell you. you're so grumpy at me all the time."

"yeah, i'm grumpy because you make me grumpy. always pulling on my hair, tripping me and making fun of me."

neither of you is sure how to continue, you just want to sleep. why you let him in is still beyond you, fatigue taking over your decisions, something like that.

"look," he sighs, running his fingers through his hair. "i really like you, but i'm not sure how to be around you. you're kind of cold sometimes, and i dunno how to get past it."

chan's kind of right, you were generally more stand-offish than your other friends, and you were kind of hard to read sometimes. maybe it was just to him. yeah, just him.

"what are you? twelve? so you've been making fun of me for weeks because you... like me?"

"yeeeah."

"you're an idiot."

"sometimes."

"ugh, i'm going to sleep."

you choose to ignore what his saying, but you'd be lying if there wasn't a delight in what you were feeling. it was kind of powerful, knowing you held the next move. you thought about what it would be like to date him, mind reeling with possibilities. and no, the drunk sex wasn't okay, it was mind blowing from what you remember. but then again, it could have just been the alcohol amplifying your experience. then again, maybe he's just joking. just wanted to get into your pants again. either way, you were in charge now.

eventually, sleep tugs at your eyes. you faintly remember feeling his hand slip around your waist as you doze off.

when you wake you feel him against you, one of his hands pressed into your chest gripping onto it for dear life, his hips melding into your own. you barely remember falling asleep. was he holding me this whole time?

you turn your body to face him, his hands still around your waist, fingers fitting into the soft rolls on your side. his puffy lips look so inviting, slightly open and moisturised. he's still asleep, little hums in the air as he breathes. you ponder on what he was saying earlier that morning, maybe he wasn't joking, maybe all of this was a façade just because he wasn't sure how to approach your supposed cold demeanour.

one of his eyes opens, squinting from the faint light from the day. he says nothing. you stay like this for a while, just admiring him. his curly hair looks so soft, you want to run your hands through them again. wait what?

you can feel it, the urge to kiss him. the urge to relive that night you had before. you weren't sure if he actually liked you, or that you liked him, or if it was just physical. regardless, you were curious.

your left hand slowly raises itself to wrap itself in his hair, he allows the touch, head leaning into your slow strokes. he hums lowly, voice a little raspy from the sleep. your hand comes back to his cheek, thumb rubbing just underneath his eyes.

whatever possessed you to kiss him you don't know. nonetheless you lean in, your lips lightly sliding against his soft ones. the kiss is gentle, as if chan is hesitant to let himself go. a small moan leaves your lips, your leg raising to rest on his side. he continues the kiss, hands digging into your sides a bit deeper.

abruptly, he stops. before you can even comprehend what's happening,

"i think... you need to think about this." he speaks, breath mixing in with your own.

"no, c'mon." you go to lean in again to taste him, but he pulls back more, frowning and avoiding your eyes.

"are you just doing this because it's convenient? just because you know i like you?"

"i thought you just wanted to fuck?"

his hand slips from your waist as he moves his body from yours, now picking up his phone and keys. "i'm not a toy you can pick up and use as you please. i have feelings."

"you don't seem to care for mine when you fuck me around all the time." you scoff, "it takes two to tango."

"i know i can be a bit much... but i do have them. don't take my confession lightly." he says under his breath. "call me when you make up your mind."

without another word he leaves, not making a single peep as the front door slams behind him.

neither of you talk for the next few days. he was right, you decide, fingers dancing along the necklace you had chosen not to wear yet. it's like if you put it on it will mean something, mean that you're giving him the green flag to go. to chase you, to want you with permission.

you think back to the kiss, how he hummed as he moved his lips against your own. it sent jolts down to the pit of your stomach every time it enters your mind, the urge to touch yourself strong.

tiredness is in your eyes, you're so damn tired from work and the thoughts that have been swimming in your mind. should i call him?

sighing, you lean back onto your pillows, taking out your phone to scroll to his name. another long breath leaves you, your heart beginning to race. you're confused.

what the hell is that?

do i want this?

no, absolutely not.

i probably just like the attention...?

your legs flail back and fourth on the bed, much like you're having a little tantrum.

wait... maybe?

he is really cute, seems affectionate.

but he fucking annoys me.

frustrated groans escape your throat, maybe one more leg flail will help you decide.

you could always try, maybe, just to see what it's like. it kind of makes sense when you think about. you slap yourself on the forehead, maybe it'll jolt your brain into making a decision.

"okay okay! i'll do it." you say to one of your plushies, trying to hype yourself in any way.

eventually you suck up the courage to call. when he answers the phone he doesn't say anything, just looks into the camera waiting for you to speak. you sit in silence, kind of just staring at each other.

"yes?" he finally chimes, his tone an indication of slight satisfaction.

you scowl, biting on the sides of your cheeks. "fine."

a month had gone by with the slow beginnings of your new relationship. you hadn't labelled anything, deciding to take things slow. it was actually quite fun, much to your surprise. there was always something exciting planned, chan jumping around you like a little kid whenever he won at an arcade game. it was cute. now, everything he usually did to annoy you seemed to become increasingly adorable. whenever he pulled your hair it was for a kiss on the cheek. whenever he laughed it was genuine to what you were saying. he had wriggled his way, just a little bit, into your heart, but not your bed.

it had been a few days since you'd seen him, both of you busy with work and other things. when you lay back on your bed, absolutely tired and fatigued, you hear your phone buzz. you know it's him, your heart thumps. damn heart.

looking down at the screen you see the name 'baby girl'. definitely a step up from fuck head. you answer the call.

"am i still baby girl in your phone?"

"yes." you laugh, turning onto your side.

chan bites his bottom lip, searching your face. "you look beautiful."

"what on earth are you talking about?"

you look at yourself in phone screen, you're definitely not in your best element. the mascara you had applied earlier slightly smudged, hair a little curled from your sweat and one of your eyebrows not properly coloured in. you groan, pushing your face into one of your pillows.

"no, i mean it!" he argues, laughing into the phone.

"whatev-"

"whatever." he mocks you automatically, knowing exactly what you were going to say. some old habits die hard.

the two of you talk about your day, how work was going and what projects he was working on. eventually it ends up in a discussion about the first night you spent together, but not having one like that since.

"yeah, why is that?" you ask, sitting back up in your bed.

"i think... i just want you to be sure."

you hum in thought, "i am sure."

"but this just isn't a hook up. we're dating now? i guess."

"you guess?" you laugh in slight disbelief. "what we been doing for this past month?"

"being cute." he says, eyes rolling comically. "ah, but yeah i guess you're right. if i'm going to be honest i still feel apprehensive."

"you do? why?"

"long story."

you roll to your side, lip pouting at the camera. "i have time, i want to know."

"honesty?"

you smile. "always."

"okay so, i guess it's just... i still don't know if i can believe you like me back. like, hear me out. i know you do, but i'm afraid that you just want the physical because that's how it was before, you know?"

"chan-"

"no i just... i want to trust this. i want to trust you. but something is telling me i shouldn't... maybe that's my anxiety."

a sharp ache, like turning daggers hit the base of your heart, how could he think that? you'd been spending the whole month with him, taking things slow like he wants. yes, you still play fought like little kids. chan annoying you would usually ending up in him in a head lock or a noogy, threats of a bite coming from your mouth.

what he's saying makes sense in the end, he has every reason to feel these worries. it's absolutely valid with how you began things with him.

you sit upright, leaning your chin on your hand. "do you wanna come round and talk about it?"

"yeah." he says letting out a long breath.

the only thing that chan had said when he entered your room was how much he missed you, how he was so happy to see you and how beautiful you looked. his lips were all over your face, kissing every bit of skin he could find. you enjoyed this. at first the affection seemed to turn you off, but now you found yourself melting into his touches.

when you eventually settled onto your bed, which still wasn't broken in, he would joke later, you found yourself patting your thighs. he looked slightly hesitant as he leaned forwards.

"you know you can come over whenever, right?" you chuckle, giving him a gentle smile. "we don't have to be so formal-"

almost aggressively, he pushes you onto your back, lifting your bed shirt to bunch at your chest.

"no talk, just tummy." he says face planting into your soft belly, hands finding their way around your waist for grip.

the affection surprised you, but wasn't unwelcome in the slightest. you realise you hadn't been this outwardly intimate before, this vulnerable with each other. it felt weirdly natural, much to your amuse. it wasn't as if you hadn't been physically intimate, always leaving the night with red marks along your neck and blotches on your cheeks. that one night doesn't count you justify to yourself. this was like a reset, a new way to start.

the boy doesn't speak, just breathes against you. your hands end up finding their way to his back, running underneath the cotton to rub soothing circles.

"mmm." he mumbles before pressing a kiss on your belly button.

the way that chan appreciates your body, every curve and slope, makes you feel like you're on cloud nine. he never once questioned it, always enjoying you as a whole.

"didn't you wanna talk?" you say leaning your head to the side.

"no..." he huffs.

though you know you need to talk, there's nothing more precious to you right now than this moment. chan's face lifting to press delicate kisses onto your stomach, slowly making their way to your neck and eventually your cheeks.

"such a love bug." you laugh, allowing him to have his way.

chan leans back, his hands still around you. "you actually love it, don't you?"

damn, you've been cornered. "mmmaybe."

"you totally do, you're a softy!"

"psh, look who's talking."

"oi yeah, at least i admit it."

you roll your eyes, knowing you've absolutely been caught. "okay maybe i am, but we shouldn't get distracted. talk to me."

chan lets out a long breath, his grip on you still strong. there's so much emotion on his face, you're not sure which one he's feeling. it seems he can't form the words, he can't put his finger on what he wants to say. you kind of know what direction this is going, so you decide to take the lead.

"babe," you begin, facing your body to him more. he looks back at you, the right of his lip curled downwards. he almost looks like he's about to cry.

"should i start?"

chan just nods, eyes on you.

"i know we started rocky, and i know why you feel hesitant. i would too. that night when we first... you know. it was more of a... an angry 'fuck you' kind of thing for me. and i never imagined it would actually lead to me liking you. i really thought about it, and how even though we're opposites, it kind of makes sense, doesn't it? cat and mouse? maybe i liked you from the start but didn't know it, probably why i hated you so much, couldn't figure out my damn feelings."

sharply, his head snaps to you, lips turning into a smirk. "sooo, you do like me?"

you scrunch your nose at him and frown. "is that all you got from that?"

"that's all i needed." he says as he pushes you back for more kisses, hands wriggling their way under your shirt.

"chan!" you giggle between his attacks. "we're not done!"

this time it seems right. it seems less rushed at first, more innocent in a way. it's an even playing field, both of you finally admitting how you actually felt and discussing the worries you had. chan had spoken in depth about his trust issues, and how he sometimes thought you were playing with him still. with reassurance, you held his cheeks in your hands telling him this wasn't a joke and that it was real.

your kisses sealed his worries away, with every 'but' or 'why' he murmured against your lips. it's not until you told him to shut up already did he take it seriously, seemingly waiting for your command.

though he was he one physically in control, you were calling the shots, whispering how good he was doing and how it made you wet anytime you had thought about this prior. this was just encouraging him more, you were nothing but a mess beneath him to his touches.

before you knew it, your clothes were somewhere on the floor, his following soon after.

the next few minutes is a haze, you're not entirely sure what happened to get to this point, but just from the shallow strokes of his fingers in your cunt alone, you were sent into spirals. his movements getting deeper and more calculated, enjoying the way you squealed and held onto his arms. he followed your body, assessing what you needed. the more he went on the harder he got, fingers going deeper and hitting that one spot you needed him to.

"please." you whine, feet placing themselves on his shoulders.

a grin paints across his face. it didn't take long for you to get to your peak, not with his tongue gently pressing against your clit, circling just around the edges. your head falls back, a silent scream coming from your throat the closer you get, hips rocking into his fingers and face.

your orgasm tightens across your body, fingers gripping anything they can find. it takes you a while to get back to reality, your body melting into the mattress.

"such a dick." you had breathed shortly after your high, laughing in trance like state. "shit."

he chuckles into your thigh, wiping your juices off of his cheek.

"hmm." he hums sitting upright, one finger still slowly dragging out and back into you. you wince at the over stimulation, legs trying to clamp shut.

looking down you notice his cock against his belly, red and at full attention.

he notices your glare and his hand stops. "ah we don't-"

"chan, if you don't let me fuck you right now, i'm going to scream."

with that, chan happily lets you take control, your hands on his chest as you push him back onto the bed. you can feel him sitting against your core, your wetness soaking onto him. you take in a sharp breath, still slightly over stimulated as you roll your hips.

the way he looks at you feel embarrassing almost, he's beaming at you, his hands gently pushing your hair behind your ear.

"stop." you say shyly, hiding your face in your chest.

"no, i want to see all of you."

the words are so raw and so honest, it's so much different than last time. there's no malice and no rush. no hate or resentment.

it's the way he looks at you. maybe he looked at you like this all along, you were too busy being petty to notice, maybe.

when you look down, you're met with a gentleness, a softness he seemingly reserves only for you. his eyes are filled with warmth, loving every part of you as it is.

you slowly raise the right of your hip, angling him at your entrance. he takes in a sharp breath as you push yourself down, his hands finding their way to the height of your back, pulling you in closer. one of your hands rests on his cheek, your other beside him for balance.

fuck, he feels so good. a slow hot ache pooling in the base of your stomach expands, small jolts of pleasure tingle across your body with every motion. his girth stretching you open feels incredible, and with the way you're lazily moving your hips; it has his breath laboured, faster.

"chan..." you begin, still shy in your actions, slowly angling your hips up to roll against him.

"hm?" he hums through a low grunt.

your movements halt, head dipping to rest on his forehead. you're taking this in, you need to take a moment, feelings overwhelming you.

"how did this even happen?" you breath against him, eyes closing.

chan pulls your face back, hands cradling your cheeks. when open your eyes to look at him, he just shakes his head, as if shushing you and your overwhelming thoughts.

you nod back at him, leaning in to press a slow kiss against his forehead. the smile he gives you says it all, his hands finding their way back to your hips,

the rest of the night is a blur, your hands everywhere, mouths on any piece of skin either of you could find. it's not fast, it's gentle and loving, things you never expected from chan himself. it was beautiful.

it's nearly morning, the both of you are a sweaty and complete mess. your make up is completely gone and you're not sure how you even look right now. that doesn't matter, not with chan's head resting on your chest just looking up at you, seemingly treasuring you as if you'd break from a blink.

it's not until chan speaks up, you're reminded why you argued in the first place.

"you look funny when you cum."

"shut up!"

still cat and mouse, always.

a/n: thank you for being patient for this! i tried to do slow burn but it's not my strong suit :S hopefully it's ok!!!

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pspaura27-blog · 28 days

Text

Papa Sukuna!

Because why not?

“Really, dear, I thought you knew how to wrap it before put it in—”

“Kaori!” Jin covers his baby son’s ears scandalously. “We have a baby here!”

“Yes. Yes, and soon to be two babies.”

Sukuna glares but he mostly blames himself for consulting with these two. Still, who else can he talk to? His old man? Yeah. No.

It’s one of those dramas where his hookup from months ago calls to say that she is pregnant and she can’t abort due to her health issue. So, surprise, he is becoming a father.

As if one brat isn’t enough.

Sukuna looks at his 4-year-old nephew, remembering all those stinky diapers and screaming. Just a few months later, he will be stuck with one that can’t be handed off himself…

Yikes.

No, he doesn’t get together with the hookup but he is invested in the baby, showing up at the doctor’s appointment and all.

Sukuna doesn’t cry when he hears that he is having a girl nor does he keep an ultrasound picture in his wallet.

He doesn’t paint a nursery room in pastel pink either.

Sukuna thinks about giving the baby up to his twin. Then, he feels really sick and pretends that it’s not an option.

The baby is born with pink hair and chubby cheeks.

“…I still don’t understand how pink hair is a dominant gene.” Jin mumbles standing in front of the nursery at the hospital. “Aww, look at my niece, aren’t you so cute… Sukuna?”

“…”

“Sukuna, are you crying?”

The baby is adorable with her doe eyes and her button nose. But she has her father’s tamper which means she is one hell of a baby that screams at 3 in the morning then blinks up at Sukuna innocently when he comes to check on her.

Sukuna sleepily picks her up, poking her cheeks. “Brat, you think you so cute, huh?”

The baby blinks, then, impossibly, scowls and chomps on her Papa’s finger with her gum.

“…”

The baby is totally his karma; she spits her milk on his shirt just because, bites his finger when he holds her, screams when he puts her down.

She also throws up on him twice a week randomly.

Screw the ‘sweet daughter and demonic papa’ trope. If the king of curses is going to have a baby, he’s totally totally going to have a bully one that hates his gut.

Sukuna might feel worse if she doesn’t also smack glasses out of Jin’s face and throws her pacifier at Wasuke.

Many also fall victim to her angelic face just to be slapped with her tiny fist.

“She hates everyone.” Jin deadpans. “Just like you.”

Yuuji visits his little cousin for the first time with a bunny plushie for a present. He bounces excitedly while his Daddy knocks on the door to reveal his… messy Uncle.

Jin blinks. “What happened to you?”

“Your niece happens.” Uncle walks back. “That brat throws up on me. On purpose.”

“…she is just two weeks old.”

“And evil.”

Jin doesn’t believe that, of course, he walks inside the nursery and sees his precious niece lying in her bassinet, cooing at her own toes. He coos and picks her up.

“Hello, sweetheart.” Jin rubs her chubby cheeks. “I’m your uncle—”

“Urghk!”

The baby kicks his shin. “Bwahh! A-wahh-nah!”

“Daddy.” Yuuji tucks his shirt. “I no think she like you.”

“…”

Wasuke is peed on when he is changing her diaper. Kaori strategically strays clear of her warpath.

Yuuji loves his little cousin; she is so cute, 8 months old, being dressed in a bunny onesie for Wasuke’s birthday dinner.

Sure, she hits him with her rattle but it’s okay because she doesn’t mean to!

Adults are talking. He sits with his cousin and plays with her, which actually means waving a toy around and bubbling at her. The baby stares at him with wide eyes.

“—and this my fab-bu-wite dinosaur, I go on adventuar togethar and beat’a bad guys—”

“Bwat.”

Yuuji blinks.

The baby scrunches her nose, looking determined, then she says her first word again with much more clearance.

“Brat.” The baby bangs her plushie with the floor. “Brat. Brat. Brat.”

“Whoa.”

She sounds just like Uncle!

Wasuke and Jin turn to look at Sukuna with accusation looks.

“Sukuna!” Jin is horrified. “Are you trying to raise my precious niece into a-a-a Yankee?!”

The older twin grumbles. That brat. Of all words to choose, she has to choose that one and say it in front of everyone.

…hmm, as expected of his own brat.

“Brat.” The baby nods happily. “Brat. Brat.”

#sukuna #uncle sukuna #papa sukuna #yuji itadori

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caffeinewitchcraft · 2 years

Text

Narrative Town: Uncle Ralph

Summary: It's a Rule not to get involved in grown-up stories. But when your parents' lives are in danger, even you will break a Rule.

Based in this world (X) where a magic town forces people to live out popular stories/tropes

-------

You’re used to your parents coming in and out of the house at all hours of the day. They always have a good excuse for why they keep such unusual schedules, but there’s no way they could have an excuse for everything. Being full time thieves is a hard thing to hide.

While they do their best to keep you out of whatever heist they’ve planned, there are some things that slip through. A grappling hook hanging over the edge of the mantle. A map of City Hall spread out over the dining room table, only partially covered by the nice table cloth that you use during the holidays. Police sketches on the news that bear a striking resemblance. Little things. Things you can ignore.

The old guy sitting at the table when you come down for school? Yeah, not something you can ignore.

“Oh,” the old guy says. He looks like he scams people who own yachts. His salt-and-pepper hair is slicked back and he’s wearing a linen suit at seven in the morning. He casually flips his phone face down and starts gathering suspicious financial documents back into a folder in front of him. “Good morning, kiddo.”

There’s a clatter from the living room and your mom lunges through the doorway. You haven’t seen her in two days and she looks rough. There are dark bags under her eyes and her hair is a frizzy cloud around her head.

“Fern,” she says, voice, tight, “honey. I thought you were staying at Caiden’s house.”

“I did the night before last,” you say. You’re trying to figure out how involved you need to get here. The guy is looking at you with way too much interest. It’d be just your luck if he tries to use you against your parents later down the line when he inevitably betrays them. At the same time, he looks like he’d leave one of your parents for dead if it benefited him in any way and you do not want that to happen. You let your backpack slide off your shoulder. “Who’s this?”

“Um,” your mom says. “He’s— he’s—“

The guy sits there smiling slightly, delighting in the rising tension.

“He’s—“

“My half brother,” your dad says from behind you. He’s got motor oil high on his cheek and smells faintly of sweat and iron. He grins and, being a much better actor than your mom, you can only see a bit of uneasiness in his eyes. “Fern can know, darling. I don’t want to keep it a secret anymore.”

The guy is delighted. He rubs his hands together as he stands, stepping around the table to hug you. “That’s who I am,” he says, arms spread wide and a shit-eating grin on his face. “Your uncle. Uncle Ralph.”

Your dad steps in front of you, pretending like the hug was meant for him. You’re treated to Uncle Ralph’s grimace as he’s forced to accept the bone-shaking slaps your dad rains on his back.

“So good to have him back,” your dad says, clear warning in his voice. He turns, one arm still slung over Ralph’s shoulders. They look nothing alike. Your dad is completely bald, shoulders well-muscled under his working shirt, and he’s got a face made for laughing. Ralph is cologne-ad-handsome and scowling. Your dad forces himself to smile. “He’s only staying with us for a couple days.”

Yikes. You watch your mom hover in the opposite doorway. She’s not happy at the sound of Ralph staying for a couple of days, you can tell. But she doesn’t say anything to contradict them and her eyes are like daggers on Ralph rather than your dad.

You study the three adults. You make it a rule to never get involved in adult stories. There’s always a higher chance of a bad ending. Death, dismemberment, general mayhem. Unless there’s a romance component to their stories, there’s very rarely a happily ever after. Judging by your parents’ reactions, romance with Ralph isn’t in the future. So it’s a regular heist story. Regular heist stories with a kid…

Well, they end really, really badly. Usually for the parents. Unless the kid steps in at just the right time.

“Awesome,” you say. You run over your school schedule, calculating. There aren’t any tests coming up and you haven’t missed any classes yet this quarter. “Can I stay home from school? I’d love to get to know Uncle Ralph better.”

Your mom makes a noise of protest. “Did you say you had a- a school project?”

“Nope,” you say cheerfully. You kick your backpack to the side and slide around your dad to go to the fridge. You’re going to need breakfast before this one. “I can take a day off.”

“Won’t Caiden miss you?” Your dad is better at hiding his desperation than your mom, but you still catch the edge in his voice. “You can always see Ralph after school—“

“Caiden needs to make his own friends eventually,” you say. You keep looking in the fridge so they can’t see the expression on your face. You’re very worried about Caiden, but he knows the Rules. You’ve got to believe he’ll be fine for one day. Two, tops. You turn with a yogurt in hand to blink innocently at your parents. “Why can’t I just take one day off?”

“Well,” your dad hedges. “That’s—“

“Just one,” your mom says. She ignores the panicked glance your dad sends her. “Okay?”

The magic takes hold all at once. You watch as it washes the resistance from your parents’ shoulders so that they stand, slumped and defeated on either side of Ralph. It settles into your bones and whispers your new possible roles into your mind. Child. Hindrance. Bait. Winner. Loser.

“Great!” Ralph claps his hands together. His eyes are calculating as he looks you over. “I can’t wait to get to know you, Fern.”

You bare your teeth and take glee in the half-flinch Ralph can’t hide. “Same, Uncle Ralph,” you say. “Same.”

——48 hours later ——

Alarms blare, earth shatteringly loud in the stillness of the night. You’re crouched under a desk, a flash drive clenched in one hand, waiting for your parents to come back to get you. The complex is big enough that they’d hidden you in one building and gone to create a distraction in the other. If all goes to plan, the three of you will be at home in less than an hour.

You breathe in deeply through your nose, straining your ears for any indication that they’re on their way. All of your preparation comes down to this moment. There’s nothing else you can do to influence the story.

Someone enters the office and shuts the door behind them.

You hold your breath, knuckles white around the flash drive.

The screaming of the alarms continues but muffled enough that you can hear the footsteps of the person approaching your hiding spot. Your heart sinks. Not two sets of footsteps. One.

“Little niece,” Ralph croons. He stops what sounds like a dozen feet from your hiding spot. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

Your mind races. He’s supposed to be dead. The first phase of the plan had involved swimming through flooded tunnels to get into the building. There’d been a problem with the equipment and he’d forced your mom to take his oxygen tank so she could continue on. Your mom cried when she got out, relaying how he’d swum away from her to hide his final moments.

He made my mom cry, you think. You roll out from under the desk, gaining your feet in the walkway between cubicles to face Ralph head on.

“Not surprised? I figured. I knew you knew I was alive,” Ralph says. He doesn’t look like a scam artist anymore. No, he looks like a true villain. His hair is tangled around his face and he’s no longer in the wetsuit you last saw him in. He’s wearing a guard’s uniform.While you and your parents struggled to infiltrate this place, he just walked right in the front door. “Clever little niece.”

You feel the magic of the town all around you now, thrumming with tension. If there was an orchestra soundtrack, it would be swelling over this dramatic reveal. You’re dressed like a mini-version of your dad in a full, black jumpsuit and you’ve got your mom’s grappling hook over your shoulder. Ralph’s uniform is all white and tan, just like the suit he first appeared in. You’ve been changed by this story. Dragged out of the naive high schooler persona you once inhabited to become a thief, like your parents.

Ralph? Ralph was always going to betray you.

“What happens now?” You gesture to Ralph and then to the building your parents are still in. “You fake your death and…take the flash drive?”

“By force, if necessary,” Ralph agrees. He smirks. “I knew I would never be able to take it off your dad or your mom. They’re the best hand-to-hand specialists in the business. But their defenseless, untrained daughter? It was a cakewalk to manipulate the situation in my favor.” His face hardens and he holds out a hand. “The flash drive, Fern. I know you have it.”

You let the moment stretch. The alarms are still blaring and you don’t hear the car horn that’s supposed to be the signal for you to come out. Your parents aren’t coming yet. They probably won’t make it in time.

Your shoulders shake. You duck your chin against your chest to hide your expression. The flash drive is hot in your hand.

“I don’t have all day, Fern,” Ralph growls. “Give me the flash drive!”

You give in. You throw back your head, howling with laughter.

Ralph blinks, hand faltering. “What?”

“I knew you knew that I knew you faked your death,” you say. You snort a little. “Giving up an oxygen tank? Swimming away to die? It was all just a little too kind for the Uncle Ralph I know.”

Ralph clicks his tongue. He’s wrong-footed, eyes darting to the doors and windows, but trying to hide it.“You should know that I’m not your uncle.”

“No duh,” you say. You wipe your eyes. “That’s why I’ve been watching you this entire time. I know you were in contact with the CEO. I know he paid you to steal the prototype and blame my parents for its theft and for the theft of the financial records.”

“Well,” Ralph says, “I knew you overheard that phone call. So I’ve been monitoring your conversations with your parents this entire time! That’s how I found out that they were planning to frame me for the theft of the financial records if we got caught. So I faked my death and set the alarms off on them so they’d be caught red-handed!”

“I knew you knew I overheard the phone call,” you counter. A spotlight outside swings towards you, silhouetting you for this revelation. “I knew that neither of my parents could stop you when you had such a powerful backer. Only one person could get in your way. That’s why I called —“

“The police, I know,” Ralph says. He takes an aggressive step towards you and the spotlight casts him in shadow like an avenging angel. “What you don’t know is that I was the operator on the other end of the line! I knew you knew your parents wouldn’t be able to get out of my little web. They were going down and there was nothing you could do to stop it. Why you didn’t tell your parents, I don’t know. But I knew the instant you knew I faked my death, you’d call. So I hacked your phone—“

“I knew you hacked my phone,” you interrupt, taking your own aggressive step forward. Ralph’s mouth clicks shut. The magic of the story wavers around you as the plot twists yet again. “So I played your little game and pretended that I thought I was talking to the police.” You draw out your phone and turn it to show Ralph. “But really? I was sending an email to your boss.”

The magic is really confused now. It undulates around you, trying to keep the narrative tension tight. Ralph is struggling to follow the timeline of what you’re describing and, to be honest, so are you.

“The CEO?” Ralph shakes his head. “No, he’s already in on everything. He knows that I hired your parents to steal the financial records to cover for when I stole the prototype for him so that the shareholders would never know it doesn’t work—“

Magic sparks out of his eyes as he talks faster and faster, trying to keep one step ahead in this convoluted story. You’d pity him if he hadn’t made your mom cry.

“Not him,” you say, “your real boss.”

The magic snaps like a twig. The alarms stop blaring and the searchlight blinks out as the electricity dies in the building. The light of the full moon streams through the windows. Ralph gapes at you, frozen with his hand still outstretched for the blank flash drive you’re holding.

“Don’t you think it’s strange,” you continue softly. This is the tricky part. You’ve met Ralph toe-to-toe. If you’re not careful, you’re going to become his arch nemesis. “Why would the CEO hire not one, but two teams of thieves for this?”

“Your parents are the smokescreen,” Ralph says numbly. But his eyes are far away. “So that I don’t get caught stealing the prototype—“

“But the CEO wants people to know the prototype got stolen,” you say. The magic is starting up again, this new narrative forming right before your eyes. You talk a little faster. You need to get out of the center of the story before it solidifies. “Why wouldn’t he just hire the one team to do that? Why the financial records as well? It doesn’t make sense.”

Ralph is silent for a long moment. Then he inhales sharply, body jolting as if waking. “No,” he breathes. “No, it does.”

You nod. “The shareholders are your real boss. They don’t want the stock to go down. They want it to go up. Their real goal is the financial records. The prototype is a trap. A trap for—“

“A trap for me,” Ralph says. He finally looks back at you, his jaw square. There’s the sound of a car engine in the distance. “I see it now. I see everything. From the very beginning, it wasn’t about the company. It wasn’t about the money. It wasn’t even about the CEO. It was about me.”

Oh geez. You watch as Ralph paces to the window. You weren’t going to say that. You were going to claim the prototype theft was a trap for the CEO. That way the shareholders could put someone a little more willing to fudge the books in power. That way Ralph and the CEO would team up against the shareholders and resolve it together. If Ralph thinks this whole ridiculous sequence of events revolves around him…

You purse your lips and stay quiet as Ralph stares out towards the other office building.

“I’m sorry,” Ralph says. He turns and, with the moon backlighting him, he looks very tragic. Like a lone wolf. Or an anti-hero. “Forget everything you know, Fern. I shouldn’t have dragged you or your parents into this.” He closes his eyes briefly. “This is…this next job has to be me. Just me.”

You like the sound of that.

“My parents think you’re dead,” you say. You hold up your hands when he looks tragically back at you. “I don’t know what you realized, but this?” You whistle lowly. “I’m seventeen. I can’t be involved in this.”

“And you won’t be,” Ralph says. He clenches one hand into a fist, shaking it slightly. “After everything I’ve done, I owe your parents that. So long as they think I’m dead, they’ll be safe. All of you will be safe.”

“Great,” you say. A car honks outside. “Be safe, Ralph.” You turn to go.

“You too, Fern,” Ralph says. He laughs a little, seemingly unbothered by your hasty retreat. “It was fun being your uncle.”

You’re almost to the door. The magic is at your back. “Yep. Too bad you’re dead to us now. Off on your lone-wolf crusade. Later.”

“Wait!”

You unwillingly pause at the door. You can feel the story drifting all around you. You don’t turn to look at him. “Yes, Ralph?”

“Your mom,” Ralph says awkwardly. Like the words hurt him. “She… she cried for me, didn’t she?”

Oh, yuck.

“Nope,” you say. “No, she did not.”

“Oh,” Ralph says, nonplussed. “I just thought—“

“Bye, Ralph,” you say and race out the door.

-------

Thanks for reading! I really love this universe and especially Fern!

Next week’s short story is already up on my Patreon (X)! If you’d like to support me and read stories a full week in advance, please check me out there!

Summary: You are caught by a devil in the woods. She wants to talk about deals and you have always been a good listener.

#my writing #second person #narrative town #fern is a badass #omg caiden was left alone #he is not going to be handling that well #lmaooooo

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carolmunson · 2 years

Text

good cop, bad cop II: daddy lessons

real brain rot shit. recommended reading: good cop, bad cop part one.

warnings: fem reader, daddy kink, dom!steve, dom!eddie, sadist!eddie (also soft, he can’t help it), brat!reader, sadist!steve (not soft at all unfortch), bdsm aligning punishments and actions, humiliation, degradation, dom training, forced orgasm. female anatomy mention. p in v sex, oral (m and f receiving), angst, face slapping (in like a bad way), severe name calling, some dubcon at the end

but in this realm (at least for me) all violent acts are previously consented to

pls don’t engage if under 18+ cause yikes! (like really, YIKES.)

authors note: this was going one way to start, and then i slept on it and i changed my mind and then i changed my mind again

still a continuation to where we last left off, but a mean steve during the first half gets a little more defiance than he bargained for in half time. steve and eddie bicker like a married couple. a very much ‘anything you can do, i can do better’ take on the night.

and then it took a turn, like a scary turn that i sort of like but oh my goddd????

—

“Daddy’s gonna let you cum as many times as he wants,” Steve stopped teasing you, reaching past your writhing hips to the top of your underwear. You lifted your hips so he could wrench them off of you. Eddie watched them get tossed off the bed to the side, he frowned a little – they were his favorite after all.

“What do you mean?” you asked, a little gasp falling out of your mouth as Steve’s fore finger probed between your legs. Your lips already puffing up, aching for him to touch you more. Eddie’s hands on your chest kept you satisfied enough, but there was always more fun to be had – if you played your cards right.

“I think you know exactly what it means,” he said, pushing your knees further apart and placing himself between your legs. He flattened himself on the mattress, a strong hand pushing one of your legs to the side, using them both to help pull you closer to him.

Eddie pushed your hair back from your face so you could watch Steve start leaving love bites on the delicate skin of your inner thighs. They were sharp and dominant, leaving you wincing in the wake of each one. You leaned back to face Eddie, squirming a little. He looked down at you and then scanned the rest of your clothed body, a little frown poking out at the sight of your battered knees and the bruises on your neck.

Then it hit him, “Wait, wait, time out. Time out.”

Steve immediately sat up and got off the bed, “Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m good,” he said, the reverb of his voice in his chest vibrated against your back. He turned your face to his, “Have you eaten at all since this morning?”

You shook your head no, and you were surprised that the realization, “Oh, no. I haven’t. Yikes. Can we stop? Can I eat something first?” You started scooting off the bed, the subby lilt in your voice dropping out completely. You walked over to the end of the bed and shimmied your panties back on.

Steve nodded as the three of you headed down the stairs to the kitchen, trying to pull himself back into a regular headspace – but Eddie couldn’t stop running his mouth.

“It just really blows my mind sometimes how you wanna be King Steve so bad in this house, but you can’t even do a simple temperature check before you throw her back in the ring,” he complained, “I bet you didn’t even think about it.”

Steve shook his head, “I didn’t, you’re right.” His voice was low, his eyes still glazed over a bit. You caught that look and grabbed his hand, running your thumb across the back of it to soothe him back to moment. Daddy’s need love too, after all.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked you.

“I’d tell you if I wasn’t okay,” you said, putting a hand on his cheek, “I am hungry, but I’m totally okay.”

Eddie was still ranting as he pulled some paper plates out of the cabinet above the stove, “And like, ‘Cum as many times as I want.’ That’s literally my whole thing! How are you gonna just co-opt my whole thing?”

“We don’t have to do this tonight if you don’t want to,” he said, tuning out the other man’s voice. His expression was softer than she’d ever seen it, “We can wait, if you need some time.”

“I rested, I’m gonna eat. It’s okay, we can do it tonight,” you reassured, lifting yourself up on your tip-toes to kiss him, “You’ve got me trained up for this, coach, c’mon.”

Eddie flipped open a new pizza box on the counter, plating up a couple slices for each of you as you and Steve sat down in your respective places. He squeezed your hand gently from under the table before letting go.

“Do you you need three slices?” you asked Eddie, looking at his plate, overflowing with pizza grease and cheese.

“It’s called carb loading, babe,” he replied matter-of-factly, “Look it up. ‘Cause with the way I wanna play with you tonight, we’re all gonna need it.”

“We’re playing the way I want to play,” Steve asserted, utensils clattering, “It’s my scene. You both do as I say.”

“Yes, Daddy,” you responded, folding your pizza in half. You all ate in silence, clear that Steve had a short fuse on him tonight. He hated when Eddie called him out on etiquette in front of you, even if he was right. He couldn’t deal with feeling any loss of complete control over you, and getting called on his bullshit made him nervous you’d stop respecting him.

“Um,” you started, “If…if we’re starting you know, with going down on me. Could uh…hmm.” You opened your mouth to continue, and then closed it, and opened it again, “I’m trying to figure out the right way to ask this.”

“Just ask it,�� Steve said shortly.

“If you’re gonna start with going down on me, could um, could Eddie do it?”

Eddie snorted into the cup of water he was drinking, it quickly turned into a full belly laugh, “Oh my Goooodddd, this is the best day. Oh, fuck, that’s gold.”

Steve tried to ignore him, “And why is that, princess?”

“I don’t think you’re bad at it, you’re great at it,” you quickly assured, your voice raising several steps, “It’s just that Eddie, he…he’s just–”

“It’s okay sweet thing, you can say it. I’m better,” Eddie interrupted, looking at Steve while he said it.

“Ed, enough,” you urged, it was so clear he was trying to push Steve’s buttons, and you didn’t want to be the outlet for that. You turned your attention back to Steve, “It’s not that he’s better per-se, he’s just…he’s got a different style is all.”

“You heard it hear first, Steve-o,” Eddie said with a shrug, a new spring of cockiness electrifying him, “I got a different style, and the style is better.”

If there is anything that was true, it’s that Steve fucked you for his pleasure, and Eddie fucked you for yours. Steve was always more likely to steal you for a quickie in the morning before work over the bathroom sink, leaving you sniveling and whimpering with a stinging behind. He’d rut into you after getting belted, still high on power, forcing you to swallow all of his cum. He’d bounce you on his cock on the couch while he watched TV if you started talking to much. It was take and take, always leaving you a little broken and needy for him after.

Eddie worked slow, he loved watching you go completely stupid under him, barely even talking – couldn’t even say your own name half the time. He made sure to take his time with you, making you finish at least two or three times before taking you all the way. It drove him wild to watch you shake and writhe beneath him while he tested your limits, mixing pleasure with pain at all times.

And if anything else was true, it’s that Eddie wrote the book on eating pussy. You’d put yourself in enough embarrassing positions and situations just for a hint of feeling his tongue on you – recalling the time he rigged you up and put you on display in the center of the kitchen table while he cooked dinner, just to feast on you after he finished. (He put that together when Steve was on vacation with his parents though, Eddie didn’t want to share you at all that weekend.)

Steve took a deep breath and let it out through his nose, “Okay Ed, why don’t you show me how it’s done, since you’re so much better.”

Eddie stretched and put his hands behind his head, leaning back on the chair, he tossed you a look, “Baby, go grab my cuffs out of the closet upstairs, please?”

You pouted, “But then I won’t get to grab your hair.”

“Oh, I know,” he cooed, “But I think Steve would like it better with you a little tied up. You don’t wanna mess up his hair would you?”

“That’s enough,” Steve said sternly, getting up so quickly the chair toppled over behind him. He grabbed you by the forearm out of the chair and pulled you out into the living room and up the stairs. Eddie followed quickly behind.

Back in the bedroom, Steve took your clothes off, sparing the skirt. After seeing you in it all day, it felt right to ruin you in it, too. In his own way, he didn’t want you to associate that skirt with Eddie anymore, just him, just your daddy.

Ed emerged from the closet, swinging his cuffs on his fingers and catching them in his palm. He smirked at you, pulling you in close to him by the waist for a deep and slow kiss, “Are you ready? You’re gonna look so pretty, all chained up.” Steve watched from the edge of the bed with his arms crossed while Eddie got you set up. A perfect picture of authority standing over you, veins in his arms pulsing, his brow set and concentrated, there was a steady rise and fall in his chest. He locked his eyes with you while Eddie clicked the first cuff into place.

“Tighter,” he said, “I want it to hurt her.”

Eddie huffed a little, clicking the cuff two more notches, you winced. He made quick work of wrapping the chain between the cuffs around one of the center post of the iron bedframe, and getting your other wrist secured.

Steve kept eye contact with you while you laid there, exposed. .A small hiss came out of your mouth when you struggled against the cuffs after feeling too seen and squirming.

“You know it has to hurt so you can learn your place, baby,” he said, his voice low and husky. He ran this thumb over your lower lip, only for you to obediently take it in your mouth and suck on it. When it was released, he wiped your spit off on your cheek.

“There’s daddy’s girl,” he said, his gaze still hard. He forgot how turned on he got, seeing you tied up, helpless and begging. Maybe Eddie was right, maybe he wasn’t taking his time the way he should have.

Eddie peeled his hole riddled Metallica shirt off and unhooked his wallet chain from his jeans, putting his effects on his bedside table. A true specimen under his clothes, pale skin and a body that looked like it was carved from marble – tattoos littering his chest to cover up the scarring.

“You’re gonna want to take that shirt off Harrington, we’re bordering watersports territory,” Eddie warned. Steve followed suit, spit pooled in your mouth at the sight of his chest. The hair wasn’t for everyone, but this chick dug it, for sure.

Ed got on one side of you, Steve on the other, the lesson has begun.

“So, it’s best to start in a way that gives you the most access,” Eddie explained, pushing your legs up so the length of your thighs laid flat against your chest, your ass a little off the bed, “Open up a little for me, princess.”

You excitedly opened your legs for him, feeling his breath on your thigh. Your heart raced with excitement while being on display for both of them.

“And you know, you can’t just dive in, and from just lookin’ at ya Stevie, I can tell you want to. And I get it, who wouldn’t?” he looked up at you from between your thighs, a purr settling in his throat, “Who wouldn’t want to get right into that pretty pussy?”

His fingertips made lazy circles on your inner thigh. You shivered at the gentle touch, muscle memory making you want to reach down to run your hand through his hair. You rolled your hips even has the metal of the cuffs bit into your wrists.

“Tsk, tsk, so impatient,” Eddie said, placing two fingers in a V over each of your lips, puffing up more with every brush of his skin against yours.

“See, this is why you can’t just jump in,” he said, looking down at you and then over to Steve, “You gotta tease her a little first.” He massaged his fingers over you slowly, the action moving your hood over your clit in slow motion. Your thighs twitched, the feeling making breathy quiet moans spill out of you.

Eddie kept you like this for about a minute, you rolled your hips in time with his touch trying to get yourself off as much as you could, but it wasn’t enough. God, he knew how to tease – everything just so out of reach.

Steve hadn’t spoken, transfixed on you, whining and writhing – he wasn’t sure if he was angry or just more aroused than he’d ever been. Any time Eddie touched you in front of him like this, it was on his command. When he said it was okay. He knew you fucked around without him, and that was fine, he didn’t have to see it or think about it. But this? This felt offensive, like you forgot who you worshipped.

Eddie dipped his head down, “Look at me, sweet girl.” Steve watched as your eyes went from him to Eddie with immediate obedience, his jaw clenched. He reached over and put a hand in your hair, letting his thumb slide over your temple while you mewed down at the other boy in your bed.

Eddie winked at you, putting both hands on your thighs, letting his bottom lip drag over your aching lips resting at the skin just above your clit.

“Pleeeaasssee,” you whined out, tears pricking your eyes, unable to hold back anymore.

“Seeeee,” Eddie said, turning his head to Steve, his hair tickling your thighs like fire, “Already almost crying, your favorite.”

“So when you go in, it’s kind of like…I don’t know how to explain it really,” he explained while using his fingertips to part your lips. Slickness glinted in the low light of the room, Steve’s hand dropped to the side of your neck, thumbing your jugular absentmindedly.

“So pretty,” Eddie murmured to himself. He flattened his tongue, starting at the bottom and gliding it up past your opening before capturing the rest of you in his mouth and sucking with intention. He smirked into the motion while you gasped at first contact.

“Fffffuck!” you cried out, it was the only time you were allowed to curse.

Eddie pulled away, and turned back to Steve, “It’s kind of like how you kiss my neck when you’re feeling a little needy.”

Steve let a little sigh come out through his nose, a whisper of a smile washed over his face, “Watch yourself, Munson.”

“You wanna taste our girl?” he asked, leaning in for a kiss. Steve grunted a reply, taking his hand off your neck and into Eddie’s hair, the other dominantly clutching the back of his head. They were like animals when they kissed, each trying to out do the other.

When they broke apart, Eddie grinned down at you, getting back into position between your thighs, “Daddy must love how you taste, huh?” You nodded eagerly, the cool air hurting you more than helping you as it met with the wetness running down onto the bed.

“So now you can vary it, or keep a similar pace until you want to start getting her ready for more,” he spoke like it was a museum tour, or an infomercial.

“This is her favorite, though,” he said, going back in with his tongue fluttering over your clit. Switching from rapidly from fluttering to sucking, letting out a deep guttural groan while he did.

You let out loud moans, the ones Eddie would open the windows for (our little exhibitionist).

“Yes! YES! Ooh, more, more like that, please,” you cried out, your voice trailing up and octave with every moan.

“She sounds like a porn star,” Steve commented in his normal voice.

“That’s kind of the point,” Eddie said against your thigh, “That’s like, my favorite part about it.” Without warning, he slipped a finger into you, already expertly teasing at your g-spot like you were a new B.C. Rich.

Eddie let out a sharp exhale, “So fucking wet for me tonight, baby girl.” He pushed a second finger in, and your eyes rolled back at the fullness of his fingers in you. He felt you pulse over him and snickered.

“Far she blows, Harrington,” Eddie joked, getting on his knees and leaning over you, his other hand pressing down just above your pubic bone. The pressure building in your stomach released almost immediately, sending a gush of liquid out over Eddie’s hand and over the mattress.

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” Eddie whispered, “You’re so fucking hot.” He wiped his hand off on his jeans, immediately unbuttoning them and abandoning them next to his belt on the corner of the bed. His boxers not helping in any way to hide how hard he was for you.

“Don’t let her wait in between,” Steve commanded, “Don’t let her have time to catch up.”

Eddie nodded, taking his dick out lazily stroking himself while repositioning between your legs. His tongue was quickly gliding back over your pussy, fingers pumping into you while your hips met his rhythm, coming again soon after the first. Eddie didn’t let up, but your insides ached and your legs hurt.

“It h–ooh, it hurss, ah! Oh, ooh,” you were caught in the cross roads, some touches feeling good, some stinging. “God Steve, let me fuck her,” Eddie begged, his chin and cheeks covered your juices. An evil glint flashed in Steve’s eyes as they met yours.

“That’s what you want, right?” he asked you. You nodded, trying to swallow your cries so he wouldn’t catch you slipping too early, but your cheeks were already stained with tears.

Another orgasm shook through your body onto Eddie’s fingers, shorter than the other two. You expected a moan to come out, but instead a full shuddering cry rang through the bedroom. Steve nodded in Eddie’s direction, signaling that it was good to go.

Eddie eased in, wanting to savor how wet you were. Warm and inviting, already spasming over his cock as he’s pushed in slowly. It took you a moment to adjust to him, but you growled at how full you felt when he got to the hilt, feeling his balls at the bottom of your opening.

“That feels good huh, pretty baby?” he asked, steadying himself with a hand on your jaw while he stroked back and forth into you, “You love how this cock feels, don’t you?”

“Oooh, yes, I love how your cock feels,” you repeated back to him, your voice raising to something high and nasally. Eddie gritted his teeth to keep from cumming at the sound. The world seemed hazy around you, only focused on the feeling of Eddie’s cock pumping into you and the pain on your wrists. The ache in your pussy and abs, the backs of your thighs. Your breaths came rapidly as Eddie picked up his pace, using his free hand circle your abused clit.

Eddie’s eyes were wicked, beads of sweat dripping down his neck, some of his curls matted to his face, “Such a fucking whore, such a whore for me.”

Your mouth lolled open, eyes half closed as you let your body bounce loosely against him. Your arms fell slack against the restraints, you were fully going under.

“Such a whore for you daddy,” you mumbled lazily to him.

“Oh, fuck,” Eddie muttered to himself stopping mid thrust at the sound of that word. He immediately getting off of you and pulled up his boxers.

“What did you just say?” Steve asked, anger burning in his face, “Did I hear you right?”

He issued a hard slap across your face, “Back to reality, you fucking bitch, what the fuck did you just say?”

You snapped hard out of your lulled state, your mouth running dry as you realized your mistake. His hands were rough on your face, fingertips digging into the sting blooming on your cheek.

“Is that what you call him when I’m not around? That’s your Daddy, huh?” Steve glowered, his chest heaving. He looked rabid over you.

Steve turned his attention to Eddie, “And you let her? I bet you just fuckin’ love that don’t you. Finally getting to be the big boss.”

“No, no, it’s not his fault, please,” you squeaked out, terrified, “He doesn’t ask me to call him that.”

“I swear Steve, I would never ask her to do that. That’s a hard line for you, we’ve talked about it,” Eddie said, his voice normal, out of the scene. This was going off script.

“Take the cuffs off her,” Steve demanded, rage bubbling inside him. Eddie clicked the cuffs open, starting to go in and start soothing your reddened wrists but before he could, Steve wrenched you up by the hair.

“That’s your Daddy?,” he repeated, pulling you off the bed to your feet, your scalp screamed, “That’s fine.” He dragged you to the end of the mattress and threw you over it.

“Get your ass up,” he hissed. You were shaking, but assumed your position as the end of the bed, on all fours so your feet hung off the edge. You arched your back deep, your forearms quaking. Steve went into the closet silently, the air was filled with tension and the sound of you sniffling.

He emerged with one of Eddie’s belts, the one with the pointed studs on it, the one he said he’d never take out unless you really deserved it. Steve approached Eddie, still in just his boxers, and clasped the belt in his hand. He pushed your skirt up over your belly so it hung off your waist.

“Go ahead, punish her,” Steve said, his voice calm but his face taking over by something evil, “Show her what a good Daddy you are. Put her in her place.”

“Steve…” Eddie started.

“Toughen up, Ed, you can do it,” he said, unbuckling his own belt and taking his jeans and underwear off, “I was gonna finish her off with a spanking anyway, but you know, since you’re running the show here, now. By all means…”

Steve kneeled in front of you on the bed, adjusting to find the best angle of his dick in front of your face.

“I don’t wanna hear you cryin’. You want me to give you something to cry about?,” he muttered, fisting your hair again, “Put this fucking cock in your mouth.”

You quickly did as you were told, immediately putting it as far back in your throat as you could. You prayed that if you just did a good job here he’d cool out a little bit, but this was a very different Steve than you were used to.

“Go ahead, Munson, show me what you can do,” he said, guiding your head up and down his length.

Eddie got behind you, nervous and unsure. He’s dealt you some beatings before but not like this – belts and spankings were Steve’s thing, not his. He wrapped the end of the belt on one hand, and ran the length of it through the other, then folded it in half.

The first strike was weak, you out a little whimper, but nothing that really moved you. You’d had much worse with more tame belts. The second was a little harder, you let out a groan on Steve’s cock. You tried desperately to focus on the task at hand, but the uncertainty and unpredictability of what might happen next made you anxious.

“Come on Eddie, you can do better than that,” Steve cooed, “Come on, she’s still got a lesson to learn today.”

Eddie brought the belt down again on your thighs, but again, it was nothing compared to kneeling on rice earlier that afternoon. Eddie ripped your head off of his cock, you immediately gagged as the tip slid out of the top of your throat.

“I’ll show you,” Steve said, “Switch with me, her dick sucking is boring anyway.”

“I dunno, man,” Eddie said, concerned. Steve got up, and took the belt from him, nudging the other boy back to the mattress. Ed just sat in front of you stroking your hair. Your lower lip wobbled as he degraded you, he’d never said you weren’t good at something before. He was being mean just to be mean.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he whispered in your ear, “You’re doing so good.”

“So Ed, you have to mean it,” Steve said, his eyes were wide, an unhinged smile spread across his face.

“You have to really mean it,” he said through gritted teeth. The belt came down so fast you could hear the ‘thwup’ of it breaking the sound barrier. You saw stars immediately, your whole body lurched forward. You tried to catch your breath but he knocked the wind fully out of you.

“And she can really take a beating, Ed. It’s important to know for the future,” he said, the belt coming down hard again, once from the left and the right. You coughed and sputtered trying to find a breathing rhythm, tears were pouring out of you now.

“And you’ll know her limits over time, y’know?” he explained, “But I’ll tell you, when she’s really bad, she’s rotten.” Steve whipped you with Eddie’s belt recklessly, you knew this pain would last for weeks at this point, you were certain he drew blood. Pain bloomed and bloomed again at every ‘smack’ of the belt hitting your skin.

You turned your head to look back at him, globs of tears streaming down your cheeks, “Ple-ease Steve, stop.”

He lifted the belt again, but you put your arm back to stop him, “Please stop,” you begged meekly, “I’m sorry, please. Please st-st-stop.”

He looked at you and dropped the belt to the ground with a hard thud.

“You’re sorry, hm?” he said, taking a step closer to you, “You’re sorry?”

“Yes,” you rasped out quietly.

“Speak up, baby, I can’t hear you,” he said, pulling you up from the arm you put out to stop him. Your back was against him, you could fell his erection up against your ass and gulped.

“Yes, I’m sorry,” you choked out.

He sheathed into you without warning and it burned. He knew it would, he knew you weren’t wet anymore. You were shaking and scared of him and it drove him insane.

“Love when you cry for me, princess,” he said in your ear, “Fuck, I love when you cry.”

He put one arm around your chest to keep you up while he fucked you and the other fixed on your jaw so you were in the same eye line as Eddie. The slap of his skin against your beaten ass and thighs made you dig your nails into the flesh of his forearm, you were inconsolable. But to your surprised, you started to get slick around his cock, cursing yourself for your body betraying you so quickly.

You choked out a moan, your nipples peaking against his arm.

“Oh yesss,” he growled, his lips lingering against your temple, “Who’s your Daddy now, huh?”

“Mm,” was all you were able to choke out. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment and shame.

“Who’s your daddy, you fuckin’ whore,” he asked again.

“You are,” you squeaked out, sobs wracking you as Eddie looked on in horror.

“Come on, say it all the way, look at Ed when you say it. Who’s your daddy now, baby?” he grinned wickedly, pressing his cheek against yours, keeping eye contact with Eddie.

“You’re my Daddy,” you cried out, looking right at Eddie while he railed you, “You’re my Daddy, Steve.”

You felt warmth pool inside of you, hot and stinging, and his thrusts came to a stop. He shoved you forward on the bed and issued a hard final smack on your ass.

“That’s fuckin’ right,” he muttered darkly. You felt his cum drip out of you as you climbed onto the mattress, crying and empty. You felt used and dirty, it had been a long time since you felt like this after sex. Steve was always so quick to praise you, even half way through, even close to the end.

Eddie got up, “Go cool off, dude, get out.”

“I’m good,” Steve said, lacing his fingers over his forehead, his elbows sticking out to the side. He took a deep breath, “I’m good.”

“You’re not good,” Eddie said in a measured tone, ushering him towards the bedroom door. He picked up Steve’s pants and shirt on the way, tossing them out into the hall. Shoving Steve in the chest out with them.

“Go take a walk, man,” he said, “Come back whenever you’re done with, whatever the fuck this is.” He gestured at Steve’s whole being, and shut the door in his face, clicking the lock. A muffled ‘Fuck!’ rang through the hallway, and the sound of glass breaking crashed a few minutes later.

Things were blurry, you felt exhausted. Tremors of your body protecting itself from the pain inside and outside shook you. Your cheek was squished against the mattress. You felt the bed shift as a now clothed Eddie appeared next to you, you shimmied your head onto his lap.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he said, “I need you to be honest – are you with me right now?”

You nodded, trying to steady your breathing. You felt his warm hand on your back, sliding up and down the slope of your spine.

“Do you need me to let you just lay down for a little before I take care of you?” Ed’s gentle tone made you want to cry again, but you held it in, just nodding yes to his question.

“We’re gonna have to have a biiiig talk about boundaries, later,” Eddie said to himself out loud, “Steve needs some fucking therapy, man.”

#DOM EDDIE MUNSON #DOM STEVE HARRINGTON #EDDIE MUNSON FANFICTION #EDDIE MUNSON #EDDIE MUNSON IMAGINE #STEVE HARRINGTON FANFIC #EDDIE MUNSON SMUT #STEVE HARRINGTON SMUT #STEDDIE X READER #the steddieverse

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film-in-my-soul · 1 year

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AO3 First Lines

I was tagged by @glitterisblue :3

Rules: post the first lines of your 10 most recently published ao3 stories (if you have less than 10 fics posted, post the first lines of all your fics).

100 Different Kisses: Chapter 93 || 1,482 || T || Top Gun: Maverick || Hangster

Bradley is not a man who often faces choices he cannot either fuck or fight his way out of. But he supposes that was only true before Jake Seresin tripped his way into his life.

Learning to Speak Your Language || 2,615 || G || Top Gun: Maverick || Fanback

When Mickey had made the suggestion of finally moving into a place together, Reuben should have known putting him at the helm of planning would have them ending up here- the middle of June, a hot summer sun beating down on their backs as they go from the moving truck to the house.

Dance the Night Away || 7,125 || M || 9-1-1 || Buddie

There are different ways to sweat. Different kinds.

Not Never || 1,879 || T || Top Gun: Maverick || Floydsin

Bob doesn't walk into the classroom at NAS Miramar as much as he shuffles in, head down, sleep clinging to the corners of his eyes, a couple of wayward strands of hair out of place; the gel he'd all but slapped onto the half-dried locks holding it down in a way that'll last (hopefully) just long enough for the morning briefing to be over.

Bar Top Woes || 2,677 || G || Top Gun: Maverick || Hangman & Maverick

Retirement, Maverick considers with a smile just shy of rueful, is boring.

Skirting Around Your Levels || 5,111 || E || Top Gun: Maverick || Icemav

"I look ridiculous," Ice calls out, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as he stands in his and Maverick's bathroom, staring himself down in the mirror and trying not to blanch for a fourth time, shame crawling up his spine.

Gonna Make Your Home My Bed and Heart || 6,163 || E || Top Gun: Maverick || Hangster

Jake's stomach hurts, his eyes are watering, and there's an ache in his jaw as he holds a hand over his mouth, trying his hardest to stifle the donkey-like laughter spilling out of him.

I'll Be Home for Christmas (And I'll be Making it Your Problem) || 26,496 || T || Top Gun: Maverick || Hangster

Jake, arms laden with two canvas shopping bags and frowning so deep a few people have thrown themselves out of his way, stomps the entirely three flights of stairs to his and Javy's apartment, throwing open the door with little regard for how it slams behind him and threats to punch a hole in the wall.

Find Out How I'm Imaginin' You (Part 4 of the imagine being loved by me series) || 14,368 || E || Top Gun: Maverick || Hangster

Jake spends two weeks post-waking up in bed with Bradley and having his entire reality thrown into his face, thinking about what he's going to do.

Top Cut || 5,456 || T || Top Gun: Maverick || Hangster

Jake is dreading getting out of his car. Eventually, he has to. He's got an appointment after all, but God, he'd rather do anything else.

Gonna tag some of my favorite authors! : @anadorablack @yikes-00 @extasiswings @perishablealex @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels @hmslusitania and @cristinuke :3

#hangster #sereshaw #fanback #buddie #icemav #tag game #ao3 tag game #fanfic tag game

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buggy-samaaa · 8 months

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S/I Part 6

A few days pass and I’m still too scared to sleep, everyone hates me so much. I’m completely dead inside because of my lack of sleep. I walk around like a zombie, and my eyes so puffy I can hardly see.

Me: G…Guhh…

Buggy: Yikes, what the hell? You look like death walking.

Me: Gghhh… so. t i r e d *rubs eyes, somehow making them puffier* End me…

Buggy: Why haven’t you been sleeping?? Are you still scared of the crew?

Me: Not scared. Cautious. Guh

Buggy: *looks concerned* You seriously need to get some sleep. I’m worried :( *blanches and furrows his brows to hide his concern* >:( b-because now you won’t be able to draw people properly

Me: I’ll just… *yawn* say it’s a new act… “how much of you can I draw before I fall asleep”… *falls forward* Zzz

Buggy: Whoa! *catches me and stands me back up* Mo, go to bed.

Me: Nooo… They’re gonna prank me… Zzz *falls forward again*

Buggy: Gah! *catches me again, stands me up* They’re not gonna prank you! Go to sleep!

Me: *slaps my face to wake up* Huff, okay. Okay. But who’s gonna do my duties for the day?

Buggy: Don’t worry about that, just go, for fuck’s sake. You’re an eyesore. Literally. You should see your eyes right now. *pushes me to the crew’s quarters* I’m not leaving until you get into the hammock.

Me: *sighs* Alright, alright… *starts to lift off my shirt by the hem, to undress for bed*

Buggy: GAH! *turns away, blushing*

Me: Eheheheh gotcha. I’m not gonna undress. *puts shirt back down and climbs into my hammock* *yawns and curls up*

Buggy: *growls, still blushing* Don’t do that! I’m your captain!

Me: Sorry, haha. I’ll never undress again.

Buggy: No, stupid, you can undress, you just—

Me: Oh okay *starts to undress*

Buggy: GAH!! *turns away and blushes more*

Me: Eheheheh gotcha again

Buggy: GO TO SLEEP *slams door shut*

—

I sleep all day and night and wake up the next morning with a great idea. I run into Buggy in the galley during breakfast.

Me: Captain, do you have a minute?

Buggy: *chomping food* Yeah what

Me: I thought of a solution! A way for the crew and I to get along!

Buggy: *chomp, chomp* Let’s hear it

Me: I audition for everybody, to earn my place on the crew. And they decide if that audition is good enough.

Buggy: *swallows* What if they say no?

Me: That’s a risk I have to take, I guess.

Buggy: But… what if they say no, though?

Me: Than I’d be out of here.

Buggy: I don’t like this idea, I think I should be the one to decide whether you stay.

Me: If you did that, they’d find a way to say it was a mistake, or unfair, or that you just think I’m cute.

Buggy: *panicked* I DON’T THINK THAT

Me: Huh? You’ve literally called me cute before. You said, “you’re lucky you’re cute.”

Buggy: *still panicked* I DIDN’T S— I WAS— IT WAS A JOKE!!!

Me: Damn, okay, I get it.

Buggy: N-Not that you’re ugly!! You’re not! I just— gahhhh

Me: *sighs* Let’s get back to the matter at hand. Audition. Here are my thoughts: *I tell Buggy my ideas for the audition so he can tell me his opinions.*

Buggy: *steeples fingers in front of him* Okay, hear me out.

Me: Yeah?

Buggy: What if they say no

Me: *grabby hands as if I want to throttle him* *sighs and retreats* Look, to have *any* chance of getting along with this crew, I have to prove myself, and that means taking a big risk! That’s just the way it’s gotta be. Okay?

Buggy: *sinks in chair and crosses arms, pouting* …okay.

Me: THANK you. Alright. Good. I better go practice.

—

The next day, everyone’s been informed of my audition, happening that evening. It’s taking place on the deck, and I’m in the middle with my easel, surrounded by the crew.

Buggy: Ladies, gentleman, and the rest of ya, welcome to the OFFICIAL AUDITION for Mo’s place on the crew!

The crew: *scattered applause*

Buggy: *glares*

The crew: WOOO YEAH! *clapping eagerly*

Buggy: Tonight, they’ll be performing a feat unlike any other! Drawing a portrait in 30 seconds!

The crew: *murmur*

Buggy: And…! After only two seconds of seeing the subject!

The crew: *murmur, murmur*

Buggy: AND…! ~BLINDFOLDED…~

The crew: *murmur! murmur, murmur!*

Buggy: *excited that they sound impressed* *gives me a thumbs up*

Me: *gives him a shaky thumbs up back*

Buggy: Whooo will my finger land onnnn *spins around with his eyes closed, pointing* Eenie, meenie, miney… YOU! *opens eyes, finger has landed on Mohji* Get up there!

Mohji: *walks to the spotlight, which is in front of me*

My eyes are closed, so I don’t know that it’s Mohji yet. Buggy comes up behind me with a blindfold.

Buggy, whispering: You got this, peanut gallery.

Me: Phoo… here we go. *I open my eyes and look at Mohji, which Buggy counts out for 2 seconds, then he blindfolds me.*

Buggy: THIRTY! TWENTY-NINE! TWENTY-EIGHT! *directs the crew to continue counting down*

The crew: *continues the count*

Soon, the end of the countdown is reached. I remove my blindfold and see that I actually did pretty good! It’s a caricature, not a serious portrait, but it’s still fairly impressive, as everything is in the right place and it resembles Mohji. I look back at the crew with a nervous smile. But… no one’s applauding. I see that Buggy has motioned for silence.

Buggy: Now, for the moment of truth.*he moves his hands behind his back, where I can see his fingers are crossed for luck* Applaud if you want Mo to pass their audition. *his fingers cross a little tighter*

The crew: *hesitates… then… everyone applauds! Some a little half-heartedly, but still!*

Buggy: *turns to me and gives me a big grin and claps* Take a bow!

Me: *grins back* *bows*

That night, I’m no longer scared of sleeping in my own hammock. The crew isn’t quite buddy-buddy with me, but there is a lot less tension than before, and some even give me half-smiles when we pass each other.

—

The next week or so, Buggy and I have breakfast together, just to chat. It’s become a routine. Sometimes other crew members will join us at the table, but Buggy usually seems a little miffed when it’s not just me and him. I don’t really understand why that is, but other crew members think it’s obvious…

One night, I over hear them talking to one another in the crew’s quarters.

Vakky: We have to talk about it

Bets: About *what,* Vakky…

Vakky: You fucking know. You-know-who and the captain

Hewitt: *mimes drawing, looking curious*

Vakky: Yes, that person.

Hewitt: *nods and makes a lewd gesture, grinning*

Bets: Hewitt, shut up

Hewitt: *silent laughter*

Me: *listening intently, pretending to be asleep, wondering who “you-know-who” is*

Vakky: They are totally *also makes the lewd gesture*

Bets: I don’t want to hear about this…

Ji: What are you guys talking about?

Hewitt: *mimes drawing to represent me, then makes an illusion of removing her finger to represent Buggy, then makes the lewd gesture once more*

Ji: Oh, yeah, no shit

Bets: Can we stop??

Thatchko: Are you jealous or something?

Bets: No.

Yoya: She looks jealous to me. But the question is. which of them is she jealous of? *has a snide look*

Bets: Definitely neither of them. *turns around to go to sleep, angrily*

Thatchko: Kekeke. What’s y’all’s opinion of them being an item, anyway?

Hewitt: *so-so gesture*

Vakky: Cute.

Yoya: Weird.

Ji: Cute and weird.

Bets: Don’t give a shit

Thatchko: Well, I think it’s too predictable. Who else would the captain fall for other than his biggest fan?

Me: o_o

Ji: Haha, that’s true. We should have seen it coming a mile away. Especially when they asked for his autograph.

Me: O_O >_< *trying really hard to fall asleep because I don’t know how to handle the idea that Buggy, the hottest thing since sliced bread, could possibly like me back* *thoughts race through my head, of our dinner-and-a-show “not-date” where we pretended to be a couple, of our breakfasts together, of his support of me against his own crew, how nervous he was that the crew may not accept my audition, of sharing wine and butting heads and holding hands and blushing back and forth* *starts to hyperventilate*

Yoya: Do you guys hear that?

Me: *clasps hands over my mouth*

Bets: The sound of y’all continuing to talk even though people are trying to sleep? Was that what you heard?

Yoya: *sighs at her* Whatever, it stopped now. …Actually, yeah, I should hit the hay.

The rest of them: *mumbles of agreement* *they all go to sleep*

Me: *exhales shakily* *waits until I hear snoring, then gets out of my hammock and leaves the room to climb up to the crow’s nest where I can look at the night sky and think*

—

In the crow’s nest, I cuddle up with a blanket and look at the stars, trying to clear my head. Then I hear walking on the deck below. I peek over the side out of curiosity and see that it’s Buggy, pacing and talking to himself.

Buggy: It’s simple. It’s so simple. All you have to do is say, “Want to go on a date?” That is all. End of story. *huffs out a short breath* You pretty much went on one before, even though it was a trade and not a real date, but you held hands! You’re, like, halfway there already! It’s not! Hard! *sighs* Then again, we were both drunk as shit… *holds head in his hands* Ggghh… *puts hands in front of him* Okay, here’s the plan. Tomorrow. Breakfast. I ask. They’ll say yes, obviously, and then it’s a done deal. *bites knuckles* …If I’m sure they’re gonna say yes… why am I so scared?? *stops biting, detaches one of his hands and points it at himself* Because you’re a shitty little coward! They probably don’t even like you back! *bites knuckles again* Damn, I have a point… *growls and scratches at his hair wildly* *exhales* *stops pacing and goes to his room*

Me: *blinks dazedly* The FUCK is happening tonight.

#oc x canon #s/i x buggy #mo x buggy #buggy the clown #my fic

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transboysokka · 6 months

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Chris watches the muppet Christmas carol for the first time

full disclosure I have been imbibing alcohol as I tend to do for these things lol

I know this thing slaps and I actually have no idea how I’ve never seen this, I didn’t grow up in a particularly muppets-appreciating household I guess??

I don’t have the clearest memory of how the story goes aside from major plot points either so this should be fun

oh no someone’s being stolen

god my immediate reaction is we need more of these and we should just make a muppets version of every literature classic

Charles dickens, that guys gonzo right? I swear I know most of their names bc I watched Sesame Street as a kid

Right? All these guys are in Sesame Street?

ooooo the marleys, don’t remember the dead marleys, how intriguing

Ohhhhh it’s a MUSICAL?!?! the SMILE that just came across my face…

I know who plays Scrooge but I do love that we haven’t seen his face yet. Adds to the … worldbuilding? lol. And mystery

omg this is deep I’ve never considered Scrooge a victim of anything

I’m sorry I’m like five minutes into this and losing my mind at how much of a masterpiece this is

Ah face reveal. I’m sorry I’m like a huge Michael Caine stan

Wait what if he killed the marleys like as far as I remember that’s not what happened but WHAT IF HE DID

Okay real question is Scrooge canonically Jewish bc I’ve always had kind of an antisemitic caricature vibe about him which then would actually totally excuse his not celebrating Christmas

These bookkeepers are great

Fred lol

I do get an angry repressed gay vibe from Scrooge maybe he’s be less grumpy if he got a bf

Jacob and Robert Marley were OBVIOUSLY gay married and Scrooge wanted to be their third but never got up the guts to make it happen

Also they probably loved Christmas and so….

Okay I mean I see now that they are muppets and he is not so uh

I also see that they clearly do not love Christmas

What’s with the chains

Oh yeah I remember

Anyway yeah that scene w those guys was creepy

Where’s miss piggy, man ain’t she a muppet

I love the like narrator voyeurism going on

Omg tHIS GHOST IS CREEPY AF

It’s been a few minutes and I still don’t want to look at her

I’ve always been obsessed w how he did all this traveling in his nightie lol

His name is ebenezer so why do his school friends have such top-10 English names like Michael … more evidence for my theory…

Oh there’s a girl … yeah right…

“I love you” “you did once” OOF yeah he must be fully gay now I see the way he’s looking at her

I don’t care about this song at all move on please

And not a fan of old Scrooge singing with her

I’m sorry not to be heterophobic but this song seems to disrupt the whole vibe of the movie anyway

Next ghost is less creepy at least

I like the weird amusement Scrooge has about him

This song is good

The happiness Scrooge is slowly starting to show aww

this Santa Christmas ghost is definitely high off something

Oh yay Kermit cratchit is married to miss piggy. And their kids are so cute

God bless us, every one!

Wtf Santa’s all old now??

Lol remember having to start your life again every morning and dying every night

WTF WHY IS THIS NEXT GHOST SO SCARY TOO I’m starting to realize why my parents didn’t show this to me when I was a kid lol I was such a baby about creepy shit and STILL AM

And WTF IS THIS SPIDER THING idk if I like this movie so much anymore lol

Really love how accurate and faithful this is and it’s FOR KIDS/families

A Christmas Carol is actually about the journey of accepting one’s queer identity. In this essay I will

But it also really does feel like converting that poor Jewish man to Christmas-ianity omg I’ll have to check up on that

That turkey got a FAT ASS DAYUM

Buying the bookkeepers coal like I know they asked for it and it’s useful but it’s actually so funny

Fred’s wife looks 15 years old yikes

Why would Scrooge fuck w bob like that lmaooo

okay yeah that was cute though I’m glad I saw it

#text

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whimsicalworldofme · 2 years

Text

Saving Grace: Chapter Four

Grace finds a new balance in life between the high highs of getting to know Tony and Pepper, and the sometimes very low lows of helping Steve cope with being a man plucked out of time.

Content warnings: Brief mentions of sex, grief, mental illness, and death.

I still can’t believe this is my life, Grace thought happily as she sat at the kitchen counter at Tony and Pepper’s penthouse, sipping on a glass of red wine while Tony stood across from her, dicing up vegetables, rather badly, to put into a red sauce that Pepper had started on the stove.

Ever since the results of the paternity test, their little family had become a tight knit unit, with Grace having dinner with them once a week and Tony insisting on father-daughter “dates” every week too. They never missed either. Three months in, they were still going strong, though Grace’s need to keep Steve’s identity confidential, as her patient, did seem to cause Tony a bit of irritation. The protective dad instincts kicked in hard, but he had learned, under threat of pain from Pepper, to respect her professional silence.

Grace couldn’t help but feel proud of Steve’s progress in the last three months and wished she could brag about him. The nights that she went to Stark Tower, Steve had begun going to a local boxing gym. He’d taken up running in the mornings too. He had found solid footing fairly quickly in the twenty-first century. There was a lot for him to process still, but Grace had issued a challenge for him to ask people he met for recommendations on cultural things; music, movies, food trends, books and so on. He had taken to it like a fish to water, even going so far as to buy a little notebook to jot the recs down and carrying it in his pocket at all times. He never shied away from his therapy sessions, which they held three times a week and diligently sketched out his feelings, something he felt far more comfortable doing than journaling. For a man born in nineteen eighteen, internet literacy came quickly. There had been one minor mishap early on, very loud moans emanating from the speakers of Grace’s laptop, which he borrowed instead of buying his own, resulting in Steve’s face going beet red as he hastily slapped it shut and tossed it across the couch, as far away from him as possible. Grace had been making brownies at the time and witnessed the entire thing from the kitchen, nearly knocking over the bowl of batter as she doubled over in hysterical laughter, tears streaming down her face. She’d had to assure him that there was nothing wrong with watching porn if he wanted to in private, but to remember that it wasn’t a realistic portrayal of sex. Luckily, the awkwardness vanished when she explained the importance of virus protection software and Steve fell down a rabbit hole of research on who created computer viruses, how they worked, and for what purpose.

“So how is the headcase?” Her father’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

“Tony!”

Both she and Pepper exclaimed at the same time, chiding him for the insensitivity. Tony stopped chopping a summer squash and looked between the two women, silently mouthing “yikes” before going back to his butchering of the vegetables.

“You wouldn’t want to be called a headcase if you needed a therapist for say anxiety or depression or ptsd,” Grace shook her head. “Have a little empathy.”

“I have empathy,” Tony replied, frowning slightly. “I just lack tact,” he cracked a grin, making her roll her eyes. “But I’m remarkably self-aware, you know…for a narcissist.”

“That’s never going to get old for you, is it?” Grace laughed, taking another sip of her wine. Pepper came over to check on Tony’s progress.

“Never,” he beamed.

“What is this?” Pepper asked, waving a hand at the vegetables on the cutting board and in the bowl beside it. “Tony,” she plucked up two very uneven piece of summer squash. “Go stir,” she shooed him away from the cutting board, handing him a wooden spoon and taking the knife from him in the process. He went without complaint, giving her a quick peck on the cheek as he stepped away.

“How is your patient doing though, Grace?” Pepper asked, taking over the cutting, moving with the ease of a practiced cook.

“They’re good,” she nodded with a smile. “I anticipated being with them in-house for a year, but it may not be that long. They’re making great progress.”

“That’s wonderful,” Pepper smiled brightly. “Your work must be so transformational for your patients.”

“Do you work exclusively with female veterans?” Tony asked from the stove and Grace knew what he was getting at. She had kept Steve’s identity secret and used exclusively gender-neutral terms when referring to him as her patient in general conversation.

“No, not really,” Grace said, flashing Pepper a look before looking into her wine glass and taking a long swig.

“Wait wait wait,” Tony came back from the stove and pointed the wooden spoon at her, dripping tomato sauce on the counter. “You’ve been living with a man all this time?”

“I didn’t say that,” Grace blinked, silently challenging him, a pleasant smile on her lips.

“You’re living with a man who is a veteran with mental issues?” All air of humor from Tony had disappeared and genuine fear flashed in his usually flippant expression. “A man who is likely twice your size? At least? What happens if he gets violent? No, you’re not going back there.”

“Yes, I am,” Grace countered, sighing heavily. “Tony, I’m perfectly safe. My patient is not violent or prone to violence at all. I’ve not felt threatened once in the three months working with them and I doubt I will in the next few months. They’ll likely be fully independent before a year is up.”

“When your job here is done, will you be going back to California?” Tony asked, keeping his tone curious, but level, as though trying not to panic. Though Tony and Pepper had a home in California too, it was six hours from her place in Stanford. Going back meant no more weekly family dinners and spontaneous father-daughter dates.

“I’ve thought about it,” she admitted and watched Tony deflate a little. “But my family is here, so I don’t see a good enough reason for me to leave.”

Her father slapped a hand on the counter, before pumping his fist in the air, victorious. Unfortunately, he had used the hand holding the wooden spoon and sent sauce splattering everywhere, on himself, on Pepper, and on Grace, but none of them really seemed bothered. Pepper even laughed as she wiped the sauce off her face and carried on with the dicing.

“Sorry!”

Tony hurried over to the stove, putting the spoon on the spoon rest then grabbed a dish rag and quickly wiped up the mess before running around the counter and wrapping Grace up in a tight hug, kissing the top of her head. It felt bittersweet for Grace, leaning into her father, resting her head on his chest as he squeezed her tight. She’d had such a wonderful childhood with her adoptive parents, had never questioned whether or not they loved her. But a piece of her had always longed for this, for family dinners with her biological father, to spend time with him in the lab, tinkering, to know what it would be like to laugh with him, what kind of stories he would tell, what about her that he might recognize, what would make him proud. Now she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt over how blissful it felt.

“You should move in!” He suggested, not for the first time. “When you’re done with your patient, I mean.” He stepped back. “There’s plenty of spare rooms in here. Or if you want your own apartment, there are several on the floor beneath us.”

“I will consider it,” Grace nodded, grinning at his enthusiasm which never dimmed no matter how many times she deflected the offer.

“I hope you will,” Pepper said, glancing up as she scooped the now properly diced summer squash into a bowl to take over to the stove. “It would be nice to have another woman in the house.”

“She means another adult,” Tony smirked, strutting over to his girlfriend and wrapping an arm around her waist.

“I didn’t say that,” Pepper insisted and Tony gave her a pointed look, making her laugh. “I didn’t say that!”

“It’s ok, Ms. Potts, we all know who the responsible adult in the house is and I frankly would not have it any other way,” he winked, kissing her on the cheek.

“Go stir the sauce before it starts to burn on the bottom,” she gave him a peck on the lips before pushing him away.

The rest of the night, her father bounced around with a joyful lightness, all worries about her living with a man forgotten once he knew that she’d be living with them sooner rather than later. He kept prompting Pepper to talk about the various things they were working on at Stark Industries, specifically on the medical side and it didn’t take long for either woman to pick up on his not so subtle hinting.

“You know,” he said, spoon lingering over the half slice of cheesecake that remained on his plate after they’d finished their meal and indulged in dessert, “Pepper has done fantastic work revolutionizing Stark Industries, moving us away from weapons and into things like clean energy and medical innovation. But it is a family business. We would benefit from another Stark on the team.”

Grace froze, having just taken a bite of cheesecake, her cheek puffing out. She looked to Pepper, worried she might be insulted by Tony’s phrasing, but she was waiting expectantly too, both of them leaning forward slightly, eyes fixed on her.

No pressure there at all, she thought sarcastically, trying to quell the panic she felt. What if I’m not good enough to keep up with the other people at Stark Industries?

“What would I do there?” She asked after she managed to swallow, her cheesecake not going down as smoothly as before.

“Whatever you want,” Tony shrugged. “What do you think I did there all those years? Nothing important.”

“Tony,” Pepper groaned, shaking her head with a laugh.

“What? You know it’s true,” he huffed. “I’d lock myself in a lab and tinker. Call it research and development,” he shrugged. “You’re a Stark,” he reiterated. “You can do whatever you want there. If you want to tinker, tinker. If you want to work with Pepper to find new projects to fund, I’m sure she’d be happy to teach you that side of things.”

“I would be happy to,” Pepper agreed, more measured than Tony, glancing between father and daughter. “I could train you to find investment projects and head them up. You could take over the medical division someday if you really wanted to.”

“I guess I hadn’t considered that as a career path before,” Grace poked at the last bit of cheesecake on her plate. “I mean, I’ve been facilitating collaborative work like that with my current project at Stanford. It’s rewarding, seeing what they’re inventing. I like creating things that improve people’s lives. But I also really enjoy my work as a therapist. Maybe I could shadow you for a little while, Pepper? Once my current patient no longer needs my help full time?”

“I would love that,” Pepper brightened, sitting up a little straighter. “I’ll make sure you have standing clearance at the office, so you can come whenever.”

“Thanks,” she felt an excited nervousness akin to when she’d first walked into Stark Tower three months ago. Hard to believe I came in an absolute stranger with no plans to tell Tony who I was and now we’re here.

When the dishes were cleared away, Pepper slipped into her office to do some work while Tony and Grace went into his workshop as he eagerly showed her the modifications he was working on with the gauntlets on his Ironman suit. Grace knew robotics and mechanics well enough, and while her father regularly asked for her input during their lab time together, she was continuously in awe of his skills and knowledge. They putzed around for a while, just playing with things, until Grace realized how late it had gotten, nearly midnight.

“I wish you’d let Happy drive you home,” Tony complained for the fourth time as Pepper handed Grace a reusable tote full of boxed up leftovers from dinner. Grace slung it over her shoulder, along with her purse. “I don’t like you taking the subway this late.”

“Tony, I’m fine,” she insisted, as she did every time she left. “And I know you. If I let Happy drive me home, you’ll be staking the place out to see who my patient is. I can’t do that to them. Bye Pepper,” she gave her a hug.

“To them?” Tony pried. “Or him?”

“Goodnight,” she chuckled, seeing Pepper roll her eyes. Grace gave her father a hug and shut her eyes happily as he kissed her on the side of the head.

“Goodnight,” he grumbled, letting her go.

Grace felt like she was floating on air as she walked to the nearest subway station and the ride seemed to go by in a blink. When she got to the apartment, all the lights were off, so she moved quietly, slipping off her shoes at the door and tiptoeing to the fridge to put away her leftovers. It wasn’t until she began making her way to her bedroom that she heard the muffled sobs drift through Steve’s bedroom door.

Her heart felt as though it physically broke in two. Despite his progress, Grace suspected Steve was holding in a lot of what he was actually feeling, trying not to let on how desolate he felt. When they first moved into the apartment, he’d stayed in his room and alternated between sleeping and crying for at least a week. That had slowly abated as he opened up in their therapy sessions and Grace encouraged him to find ways to grieve his losses while also finding things to live for now.

It’s a miracle he isn’t an absolute mess twenty-four-seven, she sighed lightly and set down her purse and shoes just inside her bedroom door. When my parents died, I couldn’t function for a year. I never knew that level of agony and loneliness could exist. I can’t imagine compounding that by losing all my friends and then being shot into a world that’s so completely foreign to me that I’d have to learn pretty much everything from scratch.

Going to the closed door across the hall, she knocked lightly.

“Steve?” She called through the wood and heard the creak of him shifting in his bed. Then some sniffling.

“Yeah?” His voice cracked when he answered.

“Do you want me to come in?” She pressed her forehead and a palm against the door, feeling like she might start crying too. I hate that I can’t just take away the pain.

“Yeah,” he sniffed.

Pulling in a steadying breath, Grace opened the door and stepped into the room. It wasn’t the first time this had happened, and she doubted it would be the last. Light from the street and the Brooklyn Bridge in the distance poked through cracks in the curtains and cast a faint glow on the huddled form of a man, curled up on his side, his back to her, arms and legs wrapped around a pillow. He had figured out early on that he had no reason to feel shame in crying around her. She was a safe person for him to be vulnerable with, something Grace wondered if he’d had since he’d become a soldier.

In all her time studying the Super Soldier project, all the news reels she’d seen, the archived newspaper articles, everything made Steve Rogers out to be this mythical figure, godlike almost, a righteous warrior who stood for truth, justice and the American way, like a real life Superman. But every time Grace crawled onto his bed to sit beside him and gently rub his back while he cried, she understood how much harm that image had done, how the experiment that had allowed him to save the world had stolen the world from him.

How is he supposed to have any kind of life when he’s essentially been stripped of his humanity?

Grace had grown fiercely protective of Steve in their time together. Truthfully, she knew that this relationship, whatever it was they shared, was far more than that of a therapist and patient since he had no living friends or family. She’d known when she accepted the job that things would never be strictly professional if she truly wanted him to feel safe, to heal from his trauma. That meant holding him when he cried, being a genuine friend, being his defacto family.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She offered after a while, when the deep, body-wracking sobs had subsided, replaced with the kind of cries that came when your throat was hoarse and your eyes had nothing left to give.

“Not right now,” he croaked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Do you want me to stay?”

He turned his head slightly and she could see only part of his face, his back still to her.

“Will you?”

“Yes,” Grace gave his arm a reassuring squeeze.

It was late, nearing two in the morning. Grace felt the weariness of the day catching up with her as she temporarily got up from the bed, just long enough to pull back the blankets and climb back in underneath them. She stayed close, knowing how important it was that he know she was there, and lightly scratched his back, her eyes drifting shut even as she did.

Everything in her being screamed at her for crossing a professional line, told her she should not be in bed with a patient, platonic or not. But she’d lived with Steve for months now and platonic physical touch had been crucial to their work, in helping him feel safe and grounded. Hugs, a friendly touch on the arm in passing or conversation, leaning on each other while watching movies on the couch.

This is exactly what I would tell his family or friends to do for him, she rationalized, nestling into the pillows to get more comfortable.

“Hey Grace?” Steve asked in a whisper, his body shifting as he turned his head in her direction again.

“Mhmm?” She hummed.

“Thanks,” he murmured.

Chapter Three

Masterlist

Chapter Five

7 notes · View notes

jthebeauty · 3 years

Text

Dishes of Punishment.

Pairing: Step-dad! Naoya x Step-daughter! Reader

Genre: Smut, Modern Day AU

Rating: 18+, Explicit - Minors & Ageless Bios DNI!

DISCLAIMER: I do not defend Naoya’s actions in the manga or anything of that nature. I am simply a writer — that’s all.

Summary: Naoya hates your boldness. When you deliberately ignore his orders regarding the dishes, he takes matters into his own hands to make sure you never disregard his orders ever again.

WARNINGS: DARK CONTENT — NONCON STEPCEST, Reader is an Adult in College, Biting, Choking, Coercion, Cursing, Dacryphilia, Degradation, Face Fucking, Fighting (Verbal & Physical), Gagging, Hair Pulling, Heavy Misogyny & Sexism, Humiliation, Implied Age Gap, Infidelity, Manhandling, Mentions of Breeding & Death, Restraints, Sadism, Size Difference, Slapping, Spanking, Spit, Unprotected Sex, Pull Out Method.

Word count: 6.5k

Credit: Naoya’s Jujutsu hub pfp is made by Shimeko_45133 on Twt — I got permission to use it!

A/n: This fic is my entry for the Jujutsu Hub collab, coordinated by the amazing @suna-reversed! If you haven’t done so, please go through the masterlist & support the other writers who participated in this fun event! Thank you Vee for not only creating this collab, but also allowing me to participate in it! Thank you all for reading & take care! ♡

“Yeah, no— no, I said I’ll be there in about like... twenty or thirty,” you reassure. “Imma grab my keys ‘n dip.”

Nobara clicks her tongue in annoyance. “We’re going to Balenciaga first, then.”

“Woah, woah, I thought we settled on g-”

“I’m getting the Ville XXS Top Handle Bag today,” she interjects. “Y’know, someone could have their hands on the second last one right now as we speak.”

“If you’re that concerned, then fine,” you sigh, sliding your legs into your denim jeans. “As long as we get my sweaters right after.”

“Well, as long as I get my bag, then we’re good— no problem! Call me when you’re like five away or so, ‘kay? I’m finishing up here.”

“Alright, I’ll get to driving as soon as I find my ke-” you freeze, eyes widening as you stare at the entire surface of your desk. “Holy shit, Naoya might have them, actually.”

“Yikes…” an awkward moment of silence passes between you two. “I don’t know how you’re gonna get them back, but... y’know? The purse and whatnot.”

Regardless of her current mini-tantrum over a purse, Nobara is a fantastic friend. She’s stylish, cute, and a ride-or-die. She has always admired your strength and independence ever since the day you met her. It’s thanks to your similar personality traits why you two are best friends in the first place. In addition to her unique character, she’s always willing to listen to your vents about Naoya— big or small.

Of course, she knew you invariably told the truth. Still, everything wasn’t 100% confirmed until she came over two months ago for movie night and met Naoya for herself. Although their interaction was very brief, it was sufficient for Nobara to avoid repeating the experience. To say the least, she definitely wasn’t a fan of the bastard. She couldn’t wrap her head around the fact that your sweet, kind mother settled for a controlling piece of shit like him.

“I’ll figure it out,” your eyes glance over at the empty spot on your desk. “Damn, he must’ve taken them this morning while I was in the shower,” you mutter more to yourself than to your best friend.

“Double yikes… best-of-luck!” She quickly utters. “Don’t forget today’s main goal, my purse!”

“I mean, how could I forget now?” you mumble, slightly breathless from tugging and hauling your belt loops upwards. “Knowing him, it’s probably something small, and he wants to be a dick head about it just because he can.”

“You want me to come over there and fuck his shit up with my hammer? I’ll get my hands dirty if that motherf-”

“I’ll handle it,” you fight back a laugh, the smile in your voice unmistakable. “Just sit tight, ‘kay? I’ll call you when I’m about five away.”

“I’ll-”

“Shit,” you accidentally hang up before Nobara finishes her sentence. It was probably about the bag anyways.

On your wooden desk, you retrieve your stained coffee mug from its coaster. Cup in hand, you do a full 180 to face your full-body mirror on the wall, taking one last glance at your outfit. With pursed lips, you lean closer to the reflective glass and sigh through your nose. A headache- no, a migraine, is bound to transpire by the time you finish speaking with Naoya.

“I fucking hate this guy,” you mumble, grabbing your bag off the hardwood floor.

Lightly jogging down the stairs, you set your bag on the last step of the staircase. You quickly scan the area before heading over to the sink in the kitchen— two of your senses vigilant for your mother’s husband. Slowly, you place your mug in an empty space beside the other grimy stacks of dishes, careful not to cause any clatter.

Upon turning around to leave, you’re greeted by the last person you’d want to see right now. But you have no choice this time— he has what’s rightfully yours.

Naoya leans against the doorframe, clad in nothing but grey sweatpants. He’s somewhat breathing heavily; his forehead down to his waist coated in a light sheen of perspiration. By the looks of it, he went for a run while you were in the shower.

“What the actual fuck,” you clutch at your chest, hand over your thumping heart. “You’re a real dick head, you know that?”

Of course the sly bastard is aware, tell him something he doesn’t know. This is always the case when he wants to speak with you (without your mother around). Unlike the ‘normal’ step-dads in TV shows, he never knocks on your room door before entering— let alone asks you how your day went.

Whenever your mom is around, Naoya often distances himself and runs errands, ensuring your mom doesn’t get suspicious of any bad blood— it’s pleasant.

But without your mother around, conversations are never worthwhile; a prime example being right now.

“Where are you off to dressed like that? The sink isn’t clean.”

“Out to places, it’s not really your business,” you dismiss, rolling your eyes. “You took my keys off my desk?”

“Ah, you mean...” Naoya reaches into his left pocket, slowly pulling your keys out before raising them at eye level. “These?” he teases with a smirk, swinging them by your lanyard like a pendulum.

You stare directly into Naoya’s eyes as the several pieces of brass sway left to right, chiming from colliding with each other.

“Yeah,” you stretch a palm out. “You can give them back now.”

“You know, I was waiting for you to ask me about them,” Naoya runs his tongue across his bottom lip. He then shakes his head in disappointment, placing your keys back into his pocket. “I told you to wash the dishes last night, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, exactly. That’s the problem. You didn’t ask me.”

“Ask?” he interrogates, unable to hold back a peart laugh. “You think I need to ask you to wash the fucking dishes?”

“I mean, do you really think I-”

“No, do you really think I need to ask you to do shit ‘round here?” Naoya halts your question with a question of his own. “Especially when both you and your mother live in my house? That’s more of the important question, sweetheart.”

You shudder at the last part of his sentence, vexation quickly starting to pool in from your head to the rest of your body. Yes, it is in fact, Naoya’s house. Yes, both you and your mother live there— but you’re only there to save money while attending college. If it wasn’t so expensive to comfortably live alone, you would’ve packed your bags months ago and never return. You’re an adult, your mom would be just fine without you… right?

Still, the bastard has no right to order you around like some dense maidservant. Who the fuck put a gun to his head and told him to marry your mom? No one!

“Keep thinking I’ll wash them then. In fact, you might as well tell my mom to wash them when she gets back from work,” you sneer. “She’s your wife, no?”

“I’m telling you to wash them and do it right. now.”

“And I’m telling you,” you point a finger for emphasis. “I’m not going to do shit for you until you learn some respect. I really hope you don’t talk to my mom like this since she lives with you too.”

“Y’know why all of this is happening right now?”

“Because you’re an entitled piece of shit who thinks you can tell me what to do all the time?”

“No, it’s because you haven’t made the connection yet,” he pokes at his temple. “You don’t have any fucking manners either.”

What fucking connection? And how dare he even begin to talk to you about manners? The sweaty bastard can’t even ask you to do something with a ‘please.’

“No, you fucking dumbass!” you throw your arms up. “It’s because last time I checked, I’m not your fucking child! Not because of some fucking ‘connection’!” you make air quotes with your fingers.

“Lower your voice when speaking to me.”

With a heavy sigh, you close your eyes and count to three, steadying your breaths. Upon reopening your lids, you cross your arms and shift your weight to the other hip.

“Give me my keys,” you utter, your voice calm and soft.

“Wash the dishes first.”

Bloody hell.

“I really don’t have time for this,” you kiss your teeth, glancing at your bag on the stairs behind his tall frame. “My last name ain’t Zen’in. I don’t have to take shit from you.”

“Oh?” he raises an eyebrow, smirking amusingly. Sass from any other woman probably would’ve had Naoya fuming by now, but there’s something about you that makes him want to give you a pass for now. Perhaps your sass is perceived as something more playful rather than disrespectful? Who knows? Only he knows.

His patience forever remains thin though.

“I have places to be,” you rub your palms on your jeans, smoothing out the small waves of wrinkles before straightening up. “I don’t care anymore, keep the fucking keys. I’ll just take the bus at this point.” You take two steps forward to the stairs, attempting to get around him.

Naoya’s large hand shoots out to grab your forearm, restraining you from fleeing the kitchen. Your head quickly snaps upwards to his face. The smirk that was once there a few seconds ago, is long gone now.

Not only did he try to talk to you about manners earlier, but now he’s putting his hands on you? The bastard has officially lost his god damn mind.

“Let g-”

“Did I say you could leave?” his sharp eyes meet yours, irises slowly darkening with rage and annoyance. “Didn’t you learn any manners from your mother? How to not only clean up after yourself— but after the entire household you live in? How to obediently listen to a man when he speaks to you? How to be a fucking woman?”

“How to be a woman? Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“If I were you, I’d be very careful of who I’m talking to right now.”

“Fuck that!” you jerk your arm. “Let go of— ouch!”

“I told you to lower your voice, didn’t I?”

Once more, you attempt to retrieve your arm from Naoya’s tight hold, pushing and drubbing at his clammy chest with your free hand as hard as you can. Naoya rolls his eyes and swiftly pulls you flush against his front. His free hand snakes around your waist and squeezes it, holding you in place.

“Stop moving,” Noaya says through clenched teeth.

“Let go of me!” you angrily cry out, nails scraping the skin of his lower back. “It fucking hurts!”

“It fucking hurts,” he mocks with pouty lips. “You know it doesn’t since you’re so tough right?”

Oh, but he knew it hurt. It even sparked something within him as he watched you hopelessly tussle and brawl against him.

“What about my feelings? Don’t you have a heart?” he sneers. “I really thought we’d get along well, gave you enough space ‘n everything.”

“Fuck you and your feelings!” this time, your nails dig into the muscle of Naoya’s lower back, but he doesn’t seem to be fazed by it. “Don’t give a shit.”

“Fuck me? So much profanity in your vocabulary. Not very lady-like,” he tsks. “But since you’re so demanding, how can I refuse?” Naoya’s lips slowly alter into another wicked smirk.

It’s obscure how someone like you could have the guts to stand up to someone like him. How did your mother manage to raise such a bold daughter, yet it appears that she as his wife listens to every word he says?

But does it even matter at this point when Naoya has plans to make sure that this never happens again? To make sure that you never even think to argue with him again? At this point, you’re too deep to even turn back. Hopefully, Nobara can forgive you if all fails with today’s plans.

In a matter of a few nanoseconds, his brain generates obscene thoughts. Shall it be the kitchen counter? Or better yet— should it happen at the spot where you should’ve been last night?

And since you two are practically pressed together, you’re forced to feel the result of his perverted thinking.

“You make me sick,” you glare at him. Your arm may be slowly growing numb to the feeling, but deep down, you’re slowly losing the will to continue this senseless fight with him. “Let go.”

“Go wash... the fucking dishes,” his grasp on your arm still tenacious. “Or we’ll do more than just dance here. I can promise you that, sweetheart.”

“Wash them your fucking self,” you scoff, looking away at the window. “Taking my keys over some fucking d-”

Naoya reacts quickly, removing the hand around your waist to shove two large fingers into your open mouth. You make a sound between a shriek and a gasp in response, staring up at him with wide eyes.

The hand that he used to hold onto your forearm quickly replaces his other hand, keeping you fixed against the anterior of his brawny, mesomorph body. Naoya squeezes your waist again, this time his four fingertips rhythmically tapping against your side one by one as he grows impatient.

“Don’t even think of finishing that sentence or biting me, yeah?” he lightly thrusts the thick digits against your tongue, pushing them deeper into your wet aperture. You squeal and frown at the salty, brackish taste of them, tempted to bite his fingers. “God, you talk so fucking much for a woman your age. I can’t stand it.”

You start to gag while rustling against Naoya’s front, attempting to push his large frame away and create some distance between you two— but it’s pointless. He doesn’t budge one bit.

“It’s hard for you to keep quiet, huh?” he gives you a pitiful laugh. “Maybe I do like talkative women in some cases.”

Although it feels like a decade, it’s only been about six months of living under the same roof as your mother’s husband.

From the first week, the two of you had clashed heads more frequently than before he married your mom. As pleasant as it was living only with your mother back in your small apartment, it was nice to finally have your own room with much more space to work with it. Not only that, but there’s more room in general throughout the whole house. There’s a pool in the backyard, a basement where you can do as you please; watch movies on your projector or workout. For goodness sake, you have your own king-sized bed, bathroom, and walk-in closet!

But is a bigger room within a big ass house really worth the bullshit and headaches you put with at least once a week?

“I think I’ve been more than patient with you now, don’t you think so too?” Naoya gazes down at your staggered face, oh-so-generously giving you a few seconds to give some sort of reply around his fingers. “I asked you a question, so I expect an answer— almost immediately.”

Naoya retrieves his glistening fingers from your agape mouth, creating a thin string of saliva that’s connected to both your bottom lip and his fingertips. He then firmly places his hand back on your waist, awaiting your answer with curious eyes.

You promptly clear your throat, panting at sudden removal. You grin at your step-dad’s stupid face, using the back of your dominant hand to wipe the dribble from the corners of your mouth and chin.

“I think you should go to hell,” you quickly accumulate saliva in your mouth, head tilting back to aim for his face. You swiftly hawk it in his direction, hoping it’d at least reach the fucker’s nose.

But instead, your spit lands on his tense neck— right at the adam’s apple. You smirk in satisfaction anyways, watching as the spittle speedily makes its way down between his pecs due to the force of gravity.

Fuck you, Naoya.

“Nasty, nasty bitch,” he huffs. “I’ve lost my patience with a brat like you.”

Naoya’s hands abruptly leave your body to wipe the spittle off his neck and chest. You take this chance to escape, rushing toward the steps.

But before both of your feet could leave the floor, you’re met with brute force— a force that wasn’t present from before. The motion happens quickly, leaving you flat on your butt and your shoulders with an odd lingering feeling of soreness.

The sudden impact to the cool, rigid floor tiles causes you to momentarily clutch at the front of your head. You open your eyes and redirect your focus above to see blurred clones of the brawny man approaching you. You unclamp your forehead, panic rapidly replacing the anger you’ve felt this whole time. You scurry backward on your hands, pushing off your heels and sliding your denim-covered butt across the floor until your back is met with the firm door of a cabinet.

Shit.

“Look I-”

“On your knees,” he grits through clenched teeth, a prominent vein on the right side of his tight neck. “Right fuckin’ now.”

“Th-”

“That’s not you bratting out again, is it?” Naoya reaches down and grips a handful of your locks, pulling you up off your butt. “I won’t say it again.”

“O-okay,” you oblige, using your sore palms to slowly maneuver yourself onto your knees.

For once, you’re actually following Naoya’s orders— but solely out of fright. Does it matter to him, though? Fuck no, obedience is obedience.

“Good,” he grins. “You’re making the connection now, aren’t you?”

“I don’t-”

You’re interrupted by Naoya’s palm colliding with your cheek. You squeal, immediate sting and heat pooling in from the impact.

“I’ve heard enough of your brave bitch speech,” he clicks his tongue. “If I ask you a question, only reply with ‘yes.’ Matter of fact, you could even nod if you really want me to be happy. Understood?” The less the bastard hears your pathetic voice, the better.

You nod with burning eyes, subconsciously bringing a hand up to rub the spot he smacked, but that only angers him more.

“Hands on my strings, not your face,” he rips your hand away from your cheek with his free hand. “Untie the knot, or I’ll give the same treatment to your other cheek.”

With fidgeting hands, you reach up to the stretchy band of his sweatpants. You swallow thickly, placing your fingers on the braided cotton string by their dark grey metal aglets.

Heart palpitating against your sternum, your palms start to grow clammy. You stall as you undo the two tight bows, softly tugging the aglets— hoping and praying Naoya wouldn’t notice your hindering too much.

“Hurry the fuck up,” he roughly jerks your head back, kissing his teeth out of annoyance. “You deaf?”

You whimper from the tug, quickly obeying his order. Immediately, you yank both aglets and watch in trepidation as the strings become undone.

Naoya then grabs one of your hands, placing it on his lower abdomen— right at the band of his sweatpants. With his large hand enveloping yours, he forces you to rub his semi-hard cock through the grey-colored cotton.

It feels... wrong? Perverted? Unethical? There’s no way to extensively describe such an infrequent feeling like this.

Naoya has severely crossed the line several times today. He confiscated your keys, neglected your personal space, put his hands on you, and constrained you to perform inappropriate acts on him. Something is seriously wrong with him.

But now, things are dangerously escalating. Escalating to a point where you’re petrified of his next move and the move after that. If you knew beforehand that things would get to this point, you would’ve left the house an hour ago and taken the transit. Nobara would understand, right?

“I was actually on my way to the basement,” his hand is still over yours, stroking his erect cock through his two layers of clothing. “I was gonna do some bench pressing and enjoy the afternoon I had all to myself.”

Naoya grunts, lightly throwing his head back before meeting your fearful eyes again. “But I’m glad I caught you just in— no, you couldn’t leave without your keys. You were going to ask me for them anyway.”

His motions over your hand grow tedious before they come to a complete stop. With one hand still entangled in your hair, he uses the other one to grab your free hand.

Naoya then brings your unoccupied hand up to his groin, positioning both of your hands on the stretchy, elastic waistband.

“Pull ‘em down,” he licks his lips, tilting his head to keenly watch you. “I don’t have to tell you twice this time, do I? I know you wouldn’t want that, sweetheart.”

“What I want is for someone to kick you so hard in the nuts, you fucking die.” is what you want to reply with so badly.

But what would your mother’s husband have to say or even do about that? Would he tug on your locks like it’s rope again? Would he smack the other side of your face like he promised he’d do? Would he even dare to go as far as—

You vigorously shake your head no, but it’s not in response to the question he queried just a few seconds ago. Blinking away the tears that scorch your eyes, you give yourself a quick pep talk before the man in front of you possibly grows impatient and loses his shit again.

Just do what he says and you’ll get your keys back.

Muscles opposing in your strained throat, you swallow thickly again and focus on the task at hand. Fingers tucking in past the two cotton-blend layers, your knuckles brush against the trail of coarse hair at Naoya’s navel.

“Look at you,” he hums in satisfaction, palm sliding from front to back on your head like a disciplined puppy. “So you can be obedient? You just choose not to, hm?”

You nod again in response, just the way Naoya likes it. With a quick, low exhale, you curl your fingers around the stretchy band of both layers— hooking them before swiftly tugging his sweats down.

Almost immediately, you’re faced with Naoya’s throbbing, rigid cock. You watch in both shock and repugnance as a fresh bead of precum forms at the swollen, red crown of his tip. Is Naoya really getting off to the fact that his defiant step-daughter is on her knees, obeying his every order? Of course, the sick bastard is.

“There’s absolutely nothing else in this world that I love more than a woman who knows her place,” he gloats, using his free hand to guide the tip of his cock to your agape mouth. “That’s the connection.”

To say he feels accomplished is most likely an understatement. To put it more accurately, Naoya would say that he feels like his own version of a successful construction man. His tactics are genius in his eyes; he forcibly destroys your strong-willed cement walls with only a few swings of his coercion-filled wrecking ball.

“Suck,” he orders with several taps of his tumescent tip on your lips, lightly smearing pre on your once-glossed lips.

You mentally curse at the command with a nauseous stomach, the uneasiness in your body too great for you to move a muscle. He can’t be serious— is he serious right now? Is he out of his-

“You don’t want me to repeat it again,” the fingers knotted in your locks tighten, pulling at your tender scalp. “Open your fucking mouth and suck it. Right now.”

“Ah- okay, okay,” you surrender, breathing quickening as you slowly open your mouth.

Naoya doesn’t even think twice to give you a warm-up for somewhat complying this far. With a quick slam of his hips, his cock mercilessly enters your mouth— seeking beyond the back of your tongue. Your gag reflexes immediately take effect as you bring both hands up, placing them on the quadriceps of his sturdy thighs for support. You start to choke, tears welling up in your eyes as the prominent vein on Naoya’s cock repeatedly brushes against your uvula.

“I know you’ve sucked cock before,” he groans at the delicious feeling of his cock head probing the warm depths of your throat. “Don’t play amateur sweetheart, suck it properly or I’ll have to get a lil’ rough with you.”

With several warm, salty tears rolling down your cheeks, you stretch your tongue out to caress the underside of Naoya’s cock. When his grip on your hair gets tighter (expressing disapproval), you hollow your cheeks. Buccal now tightly cushioning his pulsing cock, you attempt to bob your head on his length.

“That’s fucking good,” he throws his head back, jaw falling slack. “Just like that.”

Placing both hands on the back of your head, Naoya takes matters into his own hands again. Roughly rocking his hips, his heavy balls harshly slapping against your chin.

“Please-” you make an effort to communicate your discomfort through tears, but it resembles muffles and gags coming straight from your throat. “No more.”

“Shut your- ugh fuck,” Naoya shudders from his sensitive tip being persistently engulfed by your warm throat. “Shut your mouth. You’ll know when I’m- hah, done.”

Your vision grows even more blurry with every tear created in your lacrimal glands. Breathing at this point only gets more challenging— it’s basically nonexistent as Naoya gets his way, exploiting your throat for his pleasure and satisfaction.

Saliva continues to seep from the corners of your mouth, lubricating the fucker’s cock while also wetting the tiled floor below you. Your arms grow tired from clutching tightly onto his thighs, and your sore jaw only gradually continues to ache.

You’re moments away from letting go of your only source of physical support when Naoya abruptly pulls out of your mouth. Worn out and exhausted, you lean your head back into his hold with your palms planted on the floor, gasping and coughing for the air you once took for granted.

“Upsy-daisy,” he smoothes his fingers from front to back over your head. “Fun’s just-”

“No, no, no, please-” you choke out mid-cough, the uneasiness in your stomach reaching its peak as he looks down at you with a grin. Your eyes start to tear up again, both angry and fearful of the unhinged fucker standing in front of you.

“No?” Naoya’s soothing touch once more becomes aggressive, jerking your head by your hair. “Who are you telling ‘no’ to?”

“You!” your hands reach above your head to grip Naoya’s wrists. You attempt to pry off his hands, but his hold on your hair remains firm. “You’re going to regret this when my mom-”

“She won’t find out,” Naoya grabs more locks of your hair and pulls upwards, forcing you to stand up. “Because you’re not gonna tell her, and I’ll make sure of that— now get the fuck up.”

You don’t budge, choosing to ignore his command and claw at his rugged hands. You recognize this only angers Naoya more, but if you were going down— you wouldn’t go down without a fight.

Mid brawl with your step-dad’s hands in your hair, you manage to land a downward slap on his infuriated face— making sure your nails scrape his skin in the process. Naoya’s forbearance is nonexistent as he increases the force he exerts on you, no longer giving you second chances to correct your actions.

“I’ve had enough of these games,” is all you hear him say before everything moves fast, your brain unable to keep up with his movements. “If you’re going to fight me, here’s a piece of advice— don’t.”

He was quick with it, manhandling you through your screams and punches until your hips are pinned against the sink countertop. His front presses against the posterior of your figure, trapping you between him and the counter. Naoya then grabs hold of your wrists and restrains them behind your back to prevent you from further scratching him.

“This is wrong!” you shout, wiggling your hips and attempting to jerk your hands from his grasp. “And you fucking know it too! The fuck is wrong with you?!”

Transferring both wrists into a hand, he uses his free hand to reach over you and turn the sink on. Your brows furrow at the random act. Why is he just letting the water run?

“It’s not my fault we’re doing this,” Naoya grits through his teeth. “It’s your goddamn fault.”

“My fault!? You’re just an entitled piece of-”

Your sentence is cut short when you notice Naoya undoing the clasp on your jeans. Ignoring your wails and kicks, he swiftly pops the button open before hauling down your zipper. Heart hammering in your chest, you struggle to regulate your breathing— tears quickly returning to your eyes again.

“Naoya, stop this-” you clear the lump in your throat. “You’ve gone too-”

“Too far? Me? Too far?” he snickers. “You deserve this.”

“I hope you die a painful death,” you sniffle. “Worst way possible too.”

“Aw, you’re too kind,” his smile diabolical. “It’s nice to know that you want the best for me— even if it’s the worst at the same time.”

You don’t respond, staring at the water that flows from the tap with warm tears running down your face. Naoya, however, makes the next move and reaches over you again, cupping his hand at the stream.

“See this?” he splashes the clear liquid in your face, causing you to yelp and pull away. You exhale through your mouth before clearing your throat to recover. Naoya suddenly repeats the action again, his hand smothering the aqua all over your eyes, nose, cheeks, and mouth. “It’s water that should’ve been used for what?”

You know it’s bad enough to keep quiet, but why should you keep answering someone like him? Someone whose only goal is to disrespect and demean you for being an independent, bold woman. Screw this guy and his entitled mentality-

“Answer me!” Naoya growls, using his wet hand to land a sharp blow on your denim-covered ass cheek.

“Dishes!” you yell, swinging your heel backward to kick him in the shin. “For the fucking dishes, you asshole!”

“Watch yourself,” he warns. “Actually— you know what? Enough talking now.”

Naoya forcefully hooks four fingers into your back pocket, his thumb gripping the outside. He yanks at the denim material with a grunt, bringing your pants and underwear down to your thighs.

“Stop!” you slam a foot on top of his. “I said st-”

“What a shame,” he chuckles. “One minute you’re all high and mighty, next minute you’re screaming ‘stop!’ Pick a fucking side. Are you a brave bitch or a weak whore?”

“I’m-”

“Oh god,” Naoya rolls his eyes, clamping his calloused hand over your open mouth. “I don’t care for your answer.”

Through the loud ringing in your ears and the vibrations of your muffles, you hear what sounds like Naoya spitting. Your eyes widen, shock freezing every muscle as your reality finally registers.

“No more words from here on out,” he unclamps his hand. “But if you start to enjoy it, then different story.”

Naoya rubs the makeshift lube in, grinding the underside of his cock head up and down your slit. He curses under his breath, bringing the tip of his cock to tease you, circling your sensitive nub. You jerk your hips from the electrifying feeling, a strained moan leaving your throat in the process.

“Yeah,” he lines his cock at your entrance with a smirk. “Only noises like that should come out of your pathetic mouth.”

Naoya starts to push inside of you with a guttural groan, his free hand switching to grip at your bare ass cheeks as he sinks in deeper into your tight, warm cunt.

“Fuck,” he throws his head back, hips moving to create a pace. “Don’t even think the spit was needed. You fucking wanted this, didn’t you?”

“You’re-”

“Why is it so hard for you to stay in your place and follow orders, huh?” Naoya lowly grunts, teeth grazing your earlobe before he abruptly bites down on it. You wince and crane your neck, your back instinctively arching from the sting. His hand leaves your ass and travels up your body to your throat, fingers squeezing at the throbbing pulse as his hot breath makes you writhe beneath him. “Is this what you wanted all along? You like being fucked into submission or somethin’?”

“No-” you gasp, nails digging into your palms. “No, no, no-”

“You’re-” Naoya grunts into your ear, feeling your walls pulsate and flutter around his length. “A horrible liar.”

“Please-”

“That’s more like it,” he grins, fingers snaking up to grab your chin and redirect your focus to his perspiring face. “When you want something from a man, you beg for it. Now open, I think I should repay you for what you gave me earlier.”

Oh god. You know what’s coming, but you don’t want it— you’ll never want it. There’s no way to avoid it either.

You weakly open your mouth and close your eyes, further separating your parched lips as Naoya slows his pace. With two fingers, he briskly presses on your bottom row of teeth and tongue before hawking a sizeable amount of spit into your mouth. His spit is distasteful and vile as it sits in your mouth, mixing with your own saliva— but what’s to come next is another nightmare.

“Drink up,” he growls, squeezing your cheeks together. “Or I just might have to do it again and again until you learn.”

Naoya stops thrusting just to watch you ingest the warm liquid, staring intensely at your face and throat as you do so.

“Say ahh,” he smirks as he inspects your mouth. “Good.”

Pushing your head forward, Naoya’s hand grips onto your shoulder as he picks up from where he left off. He starts to thrust inside of you again— this time at a swift, overwhelming speed that has you throwing your head back with fresh tears prickling your eyes.

His ego is solely fed by your inability to do anything but moan and shriek as his cock sinks deeper and deeper, making your cunt uncontrollably squelch and squeeze around him.

The roughness of his strokes causes him to tug harder on your shoulder and bound wrists until they ultimately burn with soreness. Several warm tears continue to stream down your face as your hips repeatedly bump into the granite countertop— a bruise sure to make its appearance by the morning. Through your cries, you attempt to still yourself and clench your cunt, hoping it’d force Naoya to slow his swift pace.

He has to give you credit. Even in a precipitous situation like this, you can still think of ways to interfere with his tactics. It’s clever— but it’s a wasted effort when the bastard is both stronger and taller than you.

“Stop that shit,” he scolds, spanking a bare cheek with his large palm. “Arch your fucking back or I’ll finish inside.”

“No, no,” you mutter, teary eyes blinking away the dreadful thought. “Not inside.”

It doesn’t occur to you at the moment, but there’s absolutely no way Naoya would cum inside of you— especially not while he’s married to your mom. As extreme as this punishment is already, he would never get so wrapped up in the feeling that he finishes inside.

But nonetheless, his severe tone alone leaves you with no other option but to obey.

“That’s more like it,” Naoya watches as you arch your back into the counter, hoping it meets his expectations. “This is how it should always be.”

You discern the slight decrease in his Naoya’s pace as he lets go of your bound wrists, allowing you to grip the edge of the stainless steel sink for support. One of his large hands blindly extends down your body to your swollen clit, rubbing the nub in tight, rhythmic circles. Your hips jerk in response with each rub at the bundle of nerves, fortuitously meeting Naoya’s brisk strokes.

“And they just keep coming, huh?” he sneers, bringing his other hand up to your debauched face, harshly wiping the tears from your wet cheeks before shoving them into your agape mouth. He’s once again thrusting the thick digits against your tongue— this time ensuring you’ve tasted the salt and defeat of your disgraceful weeping. “Tastes like... the tears of a weak, needy bitch, doesn’t it?”

His words sound faint as he retrieves his fingers; they don’t even register in your head as you struggle to keep yourself on two feet.

Skin slapping against each other, your moans, Naoya’s grunts and scornful laughter— they all primarily fill the kitchen. His hands routinely add to the noise, striking your ass each time your arched form becomes dull.

With a hand secured on your hip and fingers still relentlessly rubbing at your puffy clit, your cunt starts to cream and gush around his cock. Your teary eyes are squeezed shut as a high-pitched moan leaves your throat and your whole body becomes undone.

Naoya fucks you through your orgasm, ignoring your cries of overstimulation as he chases his own release. He snaps his hips up into you, your cunt squelching and sucking him back in with every thrust. The sounds of his erect cock thrusting into your wet cunt are beyond embarrassing— it’s incredibly humiliating. You’re only continuing to milk him at this point and you can’t stop it.

With a low grunt, he abruptly pulls out— spurts of warm, thick semen painting the contour of your ass as you collapse over the sink. Jerking the last few drops of his release onto your skin, the bastard smirks, taking pride in the canvas he just painted white.

Naoya wipes the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand, taking a step back as he tucks his half-limp cock back into his pants. Still smirking, he briefly watches your fucked out hole spasm— clenching and unclenching around nothing.

He stands back up to full height before reaching into his pocket, hands searching for what you sought earlier.

“Go see your lil’ friend,” he tosses your keys on the counter with a flick of his wrist. “Ah right, you might want to wipe that off... or take another shower. If you’re smart, maybe this time you’ll take your keys with you.”

Naoya steps out of the kitchen but turns his head towards you once more, deciding to say one last thing before heading to the basement.

“You should always do as you’re told,” he advises, recalling how this predicament started. “Or keep disrespecting me— your choice. I’ve noticed that bratty girls like you love to underestimate men like me.”

#jujutsuhub collab #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya smut #naoya zenin smut #zenin naoya smut #naoya x reader smut #naoya x you #jjk smut #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #dark content tw #noncon tw #stepcest tw #age gap tw #coercion tw

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mocharadio · 3 years

Text

Go to Sleep, Idiot.

Now Playing(Title): Go to Sleep, Idiot.

Song Artists(Characters): Albedo x gn!reader

Genre: Slight Angst/Comfort, Mutual Pining

Remix(Au): Modern Au, College Au (somewhat vague)

Lyrics(Summary): You're tired, but you won't go to sleep unless Albedo does too. Feelings get acknowledged, much to your discontent (or not?)

Explicit?(Warnings): no beta we die like Albedo's sleep schedule, reader is emotionally detached, they/he used for Albedo, ooc(?), mentions of Bulimia (an eating disorder) on the readers end

A/N: yes this was rushed, yes this is manifesting for Albedo to come home. I'm writing this at 2 am by the way lol /srs

also this is the first time I've wrote anything besides headcanons in a while so like please bare with me </3 English ain't my first language either so..yikes.

Feel free to criticize! Please like and reblog ^^

It's 3 a.m.

3 in the fucking morning.

So why isn't he in bed?

"Dude, Albedo, it's getting so late it's.....no longer late. Why haven't you gone to sleep yet?" You lean against the wall just a few steps away from your bedroom, peeking into the living area where Albedo was. They can feel the glare you're giving him, but choose not to comment regardless. "Ah, so you're ignoring me now. I see." you sigh. You walk over and plop yourself on the couch next to him, looking over his shoulder. They don't bother giving you a second glance, they're aware of your overbearing but very much enjoyable presence. He opens his mouth to say something but shuts it immediately to scribble something down. You lay your head on his shoulder, waiting for them to respond at some point. You know he will, he always does; they never ignore you without a reason. Luckily for Albedo, you're too tired to notice the hitch in his breath when your head makes contact with him. They're not used to this much.....affection? Does it even count as affection? Especially from the likes of you. No offense, you just tend to be very...distant. Glancing over his shoulder, he allows themself to relax for a moment and lean their head against yours. "I.....need to finish the rest of these notes. I'll be done in a few." he finally replied. "Uh-huh, sure you will. I know how you work, 'Bedo. If I don't stop you now you'll be at it till its time for your first class." Normally they'd just shrug it off if you scolded them. It's a normal occurrence for the two of you. Albedo reprimands you for your unhealthy eating habits (what are they, your mom?) and you reprimand him for his shit sleep schedule. Somethings....different this time though, they can feel it. You let out a small groan due to exhaustion and lean forward to rest your elbows against the coffee table. "I'm not sleeping until you do, period." you scoff. Albedo finally turns to face you, not even attempting to hide the dark circles under his eyes. They tilt their head to the side, as if they were trying to study you, analyze you, like an experiment. Hoping that they'd get their way.

And you weren't having any of it.

"Alright, that's it. Let's get you to bed pretty boy." You stand up and try to drag him off the couch, only to find yourself flung back on top of it. Son a bitch pulled you down. "You've gotta be fuckin-" they slap your hand over your mouth and give you a side eye to cut you off, before inhaling and saying those words you didn't even realize you never wanted to hear till now. "What's wrong? You haven't been acting like yourself lately. You still scold me as usual but it lacks a certain...energy. Have you not been eating well? Not sleeping, maybe? Did I..... do something wrong?"

That. That right there.

Truth be told you were doing pretty well, actually. Your grades are doing better than ever, as of recently you weren't gorging and then starving yourself for days on end (hell, you'd say this is the longest time you've gone without relapsing), everything was A-Ok! Except for the fact that you're in love with your roommate! Shocker!

You didn't and still don't have the heart to tell them about your feelings, it could ruin everything, but you knew it would come to this. You can't keep hiding your feelings forever, you know it would start showing at some point.

You just never thought it would be like this, never thought he would ever think that he was the problem and not you, but at the end of the day you're still too much of a pussy to admit your feelings.

"Y- Where did you even get that from? No, you didn't do anything wrong 'Bedo-"

"Then why are you so distant towards me. We used to be so close." Ouch. That fucking hurts. Especially because you know they're right. You thought it would be okay to open up for once, to let someone in, but as soon as you realized your...romantic predicament, you just shut him out all over again.

You hurt him, and this is another reason why you can't tell him how you feel. You don't deserve them, you don't deserve to love or be loved by them.

At least, that's what you think. Albedo sees it in an entirely different light though.

They adore you. They love you so much it hurts them sometimes, because they don't know how to show it. He tries, he really does; in lingering touches, soft gazes, their vulnerability. A kind of vulnerability only you're allowed to see. So where did they go wrong?

It's silent, and tense. Neither of you move or speak for a good five minutes. What's even left to say? You can't bring yourself to deny it, cause you know he'll want a reason, a reason that you just can't give him. Not now.

Finally, Albedo scoots closer to you, hand resting on top of yours. They tilt your head to meet your gaze, half-lidded eyes focusing intently on your lips. You act like you don't see it, there's no point in getting your hopes up, not for someone you don't deserve. You decide to break the silence, shifting the focus onto him.

"Bedo. Have you been overworking yourself just because you think you did something wrong?" You know you're right when you see a slight flinch, before he turns away. "You still didn't answer whether or not I did do something wrong...I did, didn't I?"

Your heart shatters when you hear his voice crack, you can't keep going on like this. If you didn't deserve them before, you definitely don't now. You need to fix it, you know you do. So you try.

"No, you didn't."

Part of you thinks you can get out of this without having to expose that part of you, the part that feels something for him. The part of you that's vulnerable, weak. "Then why?"

You realize there really is not easy way to get out of this. You can't bring yourself to say the words, you might fall apart if you do. So you kiss them instead. It's short, but it sends the message. You let your free hand cup his cheek as you pull away, avoiding his gaze in fear of what he might do, what they might say, and that fear only grows bigger when he just says "Oh."

It dissipates when they lean in for more, returning the kiss they didn't have enough time to process beforehand. This time, you both pull away, and he rests his forehead against yours.

"I see. Well, I'm glad I didn't do anything wrong but....maybe just tell me next time?"

Of course he would.

"Like you're one to talk" you grumble. You would wipe that shit-eating grin off his face right now if it wasn't so cute. They turn back around to continue typing their notes, but you just close the computer. Laying back on the couch, you pull him closer until he's laying on top of you, face on your chest and his arms wrapped around your waist.

"I'll help you finish it later. Go to sleep, idiot." Ah, yes. Your lovely word choice. They know there's nothing but genuine concern and fondness though, so he lets it slide. "Mhm. Thank you."

You both let out a sigh of relief, before drifting off to sleep.

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ushijimacentral · 3 years

Text

Until I Met You

summary: iwaizumi's gotten used to it. the squeals of the fangirls interrupting practice, dragging oikawa away, but now things are different. he can't ignore it like he used to. what's wrong with wanting to be considered attractive after all?

tags/warnings: fluff, fem!reader, mentions of insecurities, self-doubt

wc: 1.9k

a/n: top 5 fic again. inspired by the annoying squeals of oikawa's fangirls in s1. when i say they get on my last nerve... anyway, enjoy a world where iwaizumi becomes a stuttering, blabbering mess <3

i’m planning on making a part two to this as well so if you’d like to be notified, join the taglist below!

"Oikawa-senpai!!!" The deafening shrieks of Oikawa's fangirls filled the gym. They'd managed to find him again. "Oikawa-senpai, I made you this good luck charm for your next game." A small girl with pigtails handed him the charm, a slight pink tinging her cheeks. "And I made you some milk bread, I know it's your favorite." Said another smoothly. "We'll be cheering for you Oikawa-san!" Squealed a taller girl. As the group began to surround Seijoh's captain with their various gifts and treats, Iwaizumi decided he had seen enough. "Oi! Let him get back to practice so we can actually win our next game." He sauntered over to them, giving Oikawa a swift slap in the back of his head."

"Awww can't we stay just for a little?" The taller girl whined. "Nope," Iwaizumi replied, dragging Oikawa back over to the court. "He's got a lot of work today so please stop bothering our captain." His words were a little clipped this time. After all the girls seemed to be cornering him more and more recently. It was only a few weeks until the Inter-High Prelims and Oikawa needed extra practice. However, his fangirls didn't seem to care. "C'mon let's go," the smaller girl said. "You're just bitter because you don't have girls that like you." The tall ringleader quipped, sticking out her tongue as she and the group left the gym. "Yikes Iwa-chan, are your feelings hurt?" Asked Oikawa in mock sympathy. Another slap found itself on Oikawa's head as Iwaizumi responded. "Not as badly as I'm gonna hurt you if you don't get back to practice."

The team spent the rest of practice going over drills, practicing serves, and watching their best plays. Afterwards, they headed home. Iwaizumi went over his homework, had a bath and ate dinner before finally heading to bed. But sleep didn't come to him, the words of the tall girl kept ringing in his ears. You're just bitter because you don't have girls that like you. Was it true? I mean it was partially. No one in his year had confessed to him. And his one girlfriend in junior high lost interest after she saw Oikawa. Could it be that he was unattractive? Would he always lose to Oikawa? With these thoughts circling through his head, he managed to fall into a fitful sleep.

Morning came, and with it more drama with Oikawa. "Morning Iwa-chan, you look worse than usual? Is everything alright?" His sarcasm slipped through his trademark smile but Iwaizumi wasn't in the mood. "Shut up Trashykawa, not in the mood." "What's got you so down? I'm sure we'll do great in the prelims." Oikawa said cheerily. Iwa grumbled something as he took off his shoes and placed them on the shelf. However, they touched something and an envelope fell down in front of him. "What's this?" Oikawa asked gleefully as he snatched up the envelope. He gasped dramatically. "It's a confession!" "You're kidding." Iwa grabbed the envelope and opened it.

Iwaizumi,

I have finally worked up the courage to confess

Meet me in the back of the gymnasium at lunch time

Please come alone

-Iwaizumi's #1 Fan

"Wow Iwa, when did you get a fan club?" Oikawa snickered. But Iwaizumi was too entranced by the letter to even respond. Should he go? Was this a prank? Would he ultimately lose this person to Oikawa? His thoughts were broken by a slap to his face. "Snap out of it Iwaizumi. You're going to see this girl and at least hear them out." "Fine," And with that Iwaizumi picked up his bag and headed to class.

The morning was a blur. He could barely pay attention to his lessons and couldn't peel his eyes off the clock. Lunch time, lunch time, lunch time, lunch time. It rang over and over again in his head. Finally his class ended and raced over to the gym, only to find Oikawa standing outside the doors. "I'm here for moral support Iwa," Oikawa affirmed "And to comfort the poor girl in case you reject her" Socking him in the arm, Iwaizumi swung open the doors and entered the gym only to see... Nobody? He scanned the gym left and right. It was empty, it had been a prank after all. His heart sank and he prepared to go back through the doors when he heard a noise. Whipping around, he saw the supply closet door open and saw a girl in the Aoba Johsai uniform step out. "Iwaizumi-san, it's me, [Y/N]."

His jaw dropped. Was this the girl who had written the letter? It couldn't be how could someone as beautiful as you be interested in someone as ordinary as him? "I-i'm the one who wrote the letter. Iwaizumi's number one fan?" You stammered. He swallowed. You were even more beautiful up close. The way you looked at him and fiddled with your hands made him all the more nervous. And from here he could see the sparkle in your eyes and breathe in how good you smelled. His mind malfunctioned. "I'm I-iwaizumi Hajime." He sqeaked out, turning bright red. "I know," You giggled. "I've wanted to confess for a bit but I never had the courage."

"You've never had the courage? But you're gorgeous how could anyone reject you?" He gasped, turning a deeper shade of red. "Oh my gosh that makes me sound super shallow, I mean of course I know looks aren't everything. Personality is important too and I'm sure you're a lovely as a person too but-" "Iwaizumi-san," You cut him off and touched his arm. He froze, almost fearful of what you would say next. Taking a deep breath you replied. "You're really cute Iwaizumi-san." "You can call me Hajime," he managed to choke out. "Alright then Hajime, my friends are waiting for me to eat lunch right now but I'll talk to you later!" "B-bye!" He sputtered out as you skipped out the gym. He sank down on the ground and attempted to collect his thoughts. A pretty, no gorgeous girl was interested in him. What should he do? Would he take you on a date? How many compliments is too many compliments? Would you ultimately fall in love with Oikawa? He sat there on the gym floor muttering to himself when Oikawa glided in.

"Well, well, Iwa, looks like you finally got yourself a girl." He sat down next to him and patted his shoulder. "Can I be your best man?" "One thing at a time Oikawa. I gotta see if she stays with me first." Oikawa tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Oh I know, invite her to volleyball practice to watch. She'd probably like that." Hajime rolled his eyes. "And what makes you so sure about that?" "Because she said so." Haijme turned to the captain in shock. "S-she said so?" Nodding Oikawa finally explained. "Well she's in Class 6 with me and she's mentioned her interest in volleyball and how much she loves our ace. Plus she's been to almost all of our games." Iwaizumi jumped to his feet. "YOU KNEW ALL THIS AND NEVER TOLD ME???" "Girls kinda all blend together after a while you know." He waved his hand dismissively. "No, Oikawa, some of us don't know." He groaned. "Look on the bright side. Now you do know and you have a girlfriend, invite her."

"Not right away, give me some time first." "Fine, you have until after lunch."

"Knock it off."

Before you knew it, lunch was over and it was time to head back to class. On your desk you found a note.

[Y/N],

Come to volleyball practice in the gym at 3:00. Someone wants to talk to you.

There was no name signed at the bottom so you eagerly awaited for practice to begin.

As soon as school was over, you raced to the gym. Opening the doors you saw the team practicing their spikes and receives. Hajime glanced over as he heard the doors open just as Kindaichi spiked one of Oikawa's sets. The ball collided with Iwaizumi's face, who had become entranced by you as soon as the doors open.

"[Y/N]!" Oikawa called jogging over to you. "I see you got my note." Sighing you looked him over. "I knew I should've recognized the crappy handwriting." "Now, now, now, is that anyway to treat your student"

"I was forced to tutor you so you could stay on the team. If it weren't for Iwaizumi, I wouldn't have-" Then you remembered the spike. "Hajime!" You ran over to him. "Are you okay?" Kunimi was walking over with some tissues and ice for his nosebleed." "I'm fine," he sputtered weakly. "Nice kill Kindaichi!" Oikawa smirked. "Shut up Oikawa!" You and Hajime spat in unison. "Wait a minute, you don't like Oikawa?" he asked, dabbing at the blood coming out his nose. "Of course not, he's egotistical, stuck up, and quite frankly a little stupid." You whispered. "I had to tutor him and he was such a pain to deal with."

"I will marry you right now." He blurted before becoming even redder and looking away. The rest of the team chuckled. You smiled. "Here, let me help you with the ice pack." And you gently put it against his cheek. "Hopefully the swelling will go down soon and I can watch you play." He hardly spoke while waiting for the swelling to go down but you couldn't help but notice the smile that he kept trying to hide with his hand.

After practice, he approached you. "Thanks for helping me with today with the nosebleed and stuff." He scratched the back of his head nervously. "If you'd like I can walk you home, or to the train station if you're a little farther than that. It's definitely alright if you're not comfortable with that or you don't want me to see your house-" "Hajime, it's fine." You gave him a warm smile. "I live about three blocks down from here so you can take me." And taking his hand the two of you walked home and talked about yourselves. He talked about adegashi tofu and his dreams of becoming an athletic trainer. You talked about school and hanging out with your friends. But both of you talked about your best encounters with Oikawa.

"I've caught him shoving two volleyballs under his shirt and chasing Yahaba with them." He laughed at the memory. "Mine is still better. I stepped out to get some water during one of our study sessions and when I came back, he was writing a love letter to himself." Both of you were so doubled over with laughter that the time seemed too short. Within no time you had arrived at your house. "Thanks for walking me home, I hope it wasn't too out of the way for you." He shook his head. "I actually live just one block down from here so it's very convenient." "Is that so?" You smiled. "I can do this tomorrow too if you'd like, no pressure or anything." "I'd love that Hajime." You have him a parting hug and went inside the gate to your house. "See you tomorrow [Y/N]!"

"See you tomorrow Hajiime!"

taglist: @shinsouscorner

#haikyuu #hq #iwaizumi #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi x y/n #aoba josai #seijoh #meki.fics #meki.writes #meki.oneshots #iwaizumi hq #iwaizumi fluff

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s-brant · 3 years

Text

The Hidden Spot (3/3)

(gif: @television) (PART TWO) (SERIES MASTERLIST)

Summary: In the aftermath the argument, JJ tries to no avail to find a chance to apologize for his actions. Y/N seeks comfort from the girls but ends up finding a new perspective she hadn’t yet considered.

Word Count: 7.7k

Warnings: Angst with a happy ending, implied sexual content/innuendos, implied parent/child abuse, and fluff.

A/N: Welcome to the final installment of Solar Power! Okay, I know I’ve been withholding this for a while (three months yikes) I was trying to continue writing it with the plans I made for it but I couldn’t and I didn’t have as much inspiration anymore, so I found a natural way to end it with what I already had. Thank you for your patience, and I hope you guys enjoy it. Have fun!

Laundry day is typically Y/N's least favorite.

The sand from sitting at the edge of the creek never fails to weasel its way underneath her clothes, her arms grow tired and achy from the constant movement of having to slap the wet garments over the boulder, and the fear of iguanas and snakes intruding is an ever-present anxiety she has to face each time. It's sweaty, exhausting work, but, today, it's her favorite option.

It's been days since she and JJ last spoke to one another, and it isn't like he hasn't tried. He tried on multiple occasions throughout the first day after he fucked up so massively to get a moment alone with her, but she refused.

First, he approached her as she was eating in the morning and sat down next to the tree she was seated against with the carefully thought words on the tip of his tongue. Before he could draw in a breath to say them, she tossed the cluster of ripe berries she was feasting on into his lap without a goodbye and stomped, actually stomped, away to help Pope fish for shellfish with their makeshift net. As long as she was with others, he couldn't give her the private, respectful conversation she deserved, so she made certain to have another person with her at all times.

The next time was later that day when she was reaching for a large leaf from one of the younger palm trees to add to their hut. Apparently, she missed a section while letting him seduce distract her the day they did it, so she huffed from inside of the decently sized structure and crawled out to find another leaf to thatch it over. One hand braced against the trunk of the tree for her to stretch up on her tippy toes to swipe a leaf off with the other when she felt someone come up behind her.

His voice was unmistakable, murmuring, "I got it."

Her breath trembled on the inhale, knowing exactly who it was she felt and saw reaching over her head to pluck the large leaf off of the tree for her with ease. If she focused hard enough, she could nearly feel his chest brushing a centimeter away from her back when he breathed, and that simple fact almost made her forget everything. It almost made her forget her anger to feel his fingers brushing hers when he handed her the leaf, but then she caught a glimpse of a hippeastrum flower in the distance and fled before he could say anything else.

It seems, however, that he has since stopped trying to talk to her since the third and final time she ignored him that day. Ever since, he might as well have dropped off the face of the earth to her, and though it's what she thought she wanted after his rude behavior, she is miserable because of it.

"I mean, what the fuck is his problem?" Y/N asks as she beats his only shirt against the rock to agitate dirt, sand, and ash from the cotton fabric, "First, he got shitty with me after I helped him save his best friend from becoming shark food, then he yells at me in front of everyone. For what? For having the audacity to care about him? I was worried about him for fuck's sake, and he"—smack—"fucking"—smack—"ruined"—smack—"everything!"

There's a pause in the air between the rest of the girls, then she feels someone coaxing the tank top from her hands like one would approach a wild animal prone to attacking people.

It's Sarah that she sees when she looks up from where she's half-submerged in the river with nothing but her underwear on as Kie dunks her shirt in the river to work on cleaning it.

None of them care much about nudity at this point in their friendships together. Without anyone else around or the structured expectations of society, there isn't a reason to care. It's not like any of the boys will come looking to hang out with them anyway. Not while they're busy dealing with JJ the same way the girls deal with Y/N.

Technically, they aren't all supposed to be here today. It's hers and JJ's laundry day, paired together in every job on their schedule thanks to Pope's initial suggestion of them partnering up to live together after they first got here, but she flat out told John B she wouldn't be doing it with him. Instead, the rest of the girls followed her into the forest with the entire group's laundry to make a day of it. A much needed day away where she wouldn't be subjected to her and JJ's mutual silent treatment.

"I think the shirt's clean enough," Sarah says with a kind smile.

She takes it away to drape over the clothing lines they hung between the trees.

The absence of string or twine made them get creative with their substitutes, so their clothing line is a vine they tied between low-hanging tree branches for them to hang their wet clothes on. It'd likely be smarter to tie them up on the beach as usual, but they know she doesn't want to be around him, or so she pretends, so they put some up out here for the time being.

Y/N sighs, reaching for the next shirt in the pile.

"I'm sorry," she says softly, "I'm literally going crazy."

The rest of them are perched around or in the flowing water with small piles of clothes that wouldn't even be enough to fill an average washing machine in the real world, but takes hours to wash and hang dry in their world.

And it may sound dramatic, but it truly is a different world than anything they're used to. They lived on an island before this, but it was bustling with civilization, technology, and every other aspect of modern society that they all took for granted before they were stranded. It's a slower, simpler world, and somehow, despite being at the mercy of nature, it's a kinder too. There are no divisions between them other than those they create themselves, no Ward or Rafe Cameron types looming overhead to ruin them at every turn like they did in Kildare.

Kie starts to slap her white shirt against the rock to clean it, shaking her head.

"You aren't though, I think he's an ass for what he said to you. Sure, y'all hated each other for no good reason for years, but he didn't need to tell everyone you "threw yourself" at him. That was fucked up," she says.

Soon after, Sarah is murmuring her agreement.

"I think he's acting like an ass too."

Y/N takes a deep breath and leans forward to rest her chin on folded arms atop the boulder as she looks between the three other girls.

"I think he doesn't give a shit about me. The reality of the situation is, we're stuck in the middle of nowhere with no chance of getting back to our normal lives. Sarah is dating John B, he's already tried to hook up with you, Kie, and he knows Pope has a crush on Cleo, so he won't try that," she sighs deeply, "He's lonely, we all are, and it's probably been a while since he's had sex. I was just there. It was my fault to think it could've meant anything."

Forget what he said to her that night about waiting "so long" to be with her, or the clear evidence that was his genuine worry for her after they killed the shark. None of it matters to her at this point because she has already made up her mind and resigned herself to what she believes is the truth, which is that he always has and always will dislike her.

Her eyes are downcast with the thought that finally clangs through her.

It's the first time she's dared to consider it since their relationship began to improve over the course of the summer leading into autumn, and she can't deny that it hurts, it took her so long to admit to herself that she had feelings for him in the first place, so to be humiliated and rejected by him in front of everyone here...It hurts worse than anything.

She's about to crawl over to the shore to pick her shorts out of the sand to wash them when Cleo breaks her contemplative silence. They all look up from what they're doing at the sound of her voice.

"I think you're wrong."

The initial gut reaction she has in response to this is to laugh, but she doesn't. She is far too curious to hear her out for an explanation to laugh off her statement as nothing more than a misinterpretation. After all, sometimes an outsider perspective is more accurate than that of the two people involved in a friendship or relationship. Sometimes, you need to have distance from the issue to see it clearly without the biases of emotion.

Cleo walks over to the clothing line and throws the shirt she was washing over it to dry as she continues speaking as though pleading a case to court. In this instance, the deciding jury is composed of a heartbroken girl and her two friends who have every reason to hold JJ's behavior against him.

"His best friend was getting chased by a shark and he didn't jump in, but what did he do the second you got in the water?"

Y/N didn't see him diving in after her initially.

Bubbles dispersing around her from the impact of her body on the water roared in her ears, as well as the sound of John B yelling at her to go back once she resurfaced, so she didn't pick up on the splash of JJ jumping in too. She didn't turn around to see the absence of him standing atop the rocks with the same shell shocked look he had when they first realized the severity of the situation, she was too busy trying to keep her head above water as they fought back against the shark.

But she did notice when he reached them. His hands searched for her through the splashing water until they found her waist, and when she realized it was him, something strange happened. Even with life-threatening danger looking them in the eyes in the form of an aggressive, bloodthirsty animal, feeling his hands on her and knowing he was there calmed her instantly. It didn't matter that they were dancing with death, all she knew was that JJ was there, and if he was with her, everything would be okay.

Then, how could she ignore how he acted after? She doesn't mean his rude attitude either, she means the worry. The wide, melancholy puppy eyes she found staring down at her when he climbed out of the water and tugged her body onto his with no thought on his mind other than her safety. No matter how much she tries to convince herself of it, those aren't the actions of a man that "hates" someone. Not by a long shot.

She swallows thickly as she meets Cleo's gaze and sees the knowing smile growing there. Her hand rests on one hip, and she leans against the tree they tied the clothing line to with amusement toying at her beautiful features.

Clearly, their collective silence is the answer she needed to confirm her suspicions.

"I rest my case," she says, “You don't swim with sharks for a girl you hate. That, my friend, is love."

The four letter word is so plain and simple, yet it stirs her stomach with a fluttering sensation she often notices whenever he's around her or mentioned in conversation like this. For a second or so, it doesn't matter that he hurt her feelings as she lets herself consider the wild possibility of him loving her. It isn't long before her logical side kicks back into gear to remind her of their history, as well as the moment at the bonfire the other day when he humiliated her in front of their friends, but it's heavenly while it lasts.

How different would things have been if she accepted long ago, before their dislike for each other could snowball into a rivalry they upheld out of sheer stubbornness, that she has always had feelings for him?

She isn't sure if she can take the leap of faith needed to label her feelings as love yet, but it's the type of longstanding infatuation that promises to turn into love if they work things out and decide to explore a relationship. The thing is, even if they do mend fences, that doesn't mean he'll want to pursue anything with her. For all she knows, his intentions with her could very well be purely sexual.

It's all too fickle for her to trust it.

"I don't know, dude, figure it out," John B said as JJ trailed after him down the beach earlier today, shit outta luck with ideas on how to get Y/N alone to apologize, "Give her some flowers or some cute shit like that, and be honest. You clearly like her, so it shouldn't be that hard."

It is, in fact, that hard.

Speaking from the perspective of an outside looking in on his complicated relationship with her, John B doesn't know how it feels to live within the uncertainty of whatever it is they have together. He and Sarah are head over heels in love with one another, overcoming every obstacle, both self-inflicted and externally sourced, hurled at them over the course of their relationship. How could he understand what this feels like?

Even when he and Sarah weren't on good terms after Ward faked his death, there was no denying their love for each other, but with Y/N...He isn't too sure.

Sometimes, he thinks has it figured out. He'll catch a glimpse of fondness in her eyes for him and wonder if it means anything. He'll go a few days without arguing with her over the smallest, dumbest topics and wonder if it means she likes him more than she used to. But what truly made him question it was when she kissed him in the forest.

It makes him trip over his feet, lost in his memories, as he trails through the forest in the direction the other girls said they remembered her going in after they finished drying out the laundry.

Sarah's arm shot out to plant her hand flat against the trunk of a palm tree, hitting right against his neck when he aimed to walk straight through to the path. Stopping him right in his tracks, she looked him up and down with a glare that cut him to the bone. Even if she weren't physically blocking him from leaving, he likely would've stopped right there at the sight of that look—a look all girls, despite age or upbringing, have somehow honed to masterful extent.

"If you hurt her again, I will not hesitate to throw you to the sharks," she said, and he wasn't sure if it unnerved him less or more that she spoke the words so calmly. “Got it?”

It made her smile to see him swallow thickly at her promise. He deserved it for what he said to her best friend, so she played up her intimidating side far more than it naturally expresses itself. She didn't need to turn around to know that Cleo and Kie smiled with her, not only because of what she said, but because of what JJ following her into the forest again must have meant.

It meant that, whether she intended to forgive him or not, he was going to apologize to her. And, knowing them and their inability to be apart without finding their way back into each others lives one way or another, they knew where it'd lead.

Her reaction at the creek when Cleo said he loved her displayed everything she couldn't bring herself to say to them. They had no doubts that all it'd take was one more interaction between them after the time apart, which had pumped their hearts with an aching, swirling tension that promised an explosive resolution, for them to finally face the reality of their feelings.

He met Kie and Cleo's stares before coming back to Sarah's, nodding once. It was the only confirmation she needed to yank her arm back from the tree, her smile turning warm and friendly with his silent agreement in mind.

Sticks and fallen leaves crunched beneath his boots as he rushed off on the path they often take through the trees, and Kie called out after him in a shout, "She followed the water, so just stick to the creek and follow it up!"

So, he does exactly that—tramples through the bushes and weaves in and out between soaring trees on his way up the side of the creek that none of them have explored to its source up the incline of the island.

Most of the time, they don't have much free time to explore the island. They're often too preoccupied with doing what they need to in order to survive, then when nighttime comes and offers them time to do whatever they want, it's too dark to go exploring without anything to illuminate the way through the dark. The extent of her exploration often comes from the walks she takes when she's trying trying to find time to herself and ends up getting followed by JJ.

Y/N frowns to herself at the thought of him, tilting her head back into the water to wash away the buildup of sweat and sand clinging to strands of her hair.

Hiking up the creek until she reached its source proved to be her best idea since arriving here, because it has led her to something she regards as the most beautiful place she's ever seen. A waterfall flows freshwater into a swimming hole so blue, she hardly believed it was real when she climbed up the rocks separating the stream from the small body of water that feeds it. She decided immediately that it'd be her little secret for now until any of the others decided to explore and find it too, a place where she could visit when she wanted some time to herself.

But, for now, she uses it as a place to bathe without having to worry about being seen by any of the boys like she does when bathing by the creek.

There's no soap or shampoo, but the flowing freshwater feels better than anything compared to the salt and sand by the beach. The temperature is cool and refreshing, yet somehow comfortable at the same time. No goosebumps are raised on arms when she scrubs them beneath the surface, using the sand that already clung to them as an exfoliant until she's satisfied with her skin's softness.

No sign of dirt, sand, or the distinct scent of saltwater can be found on her now. Her bare body glistens under the sunlight coming down over the waterfall as she sits atop a rock, half-submerged in the water, and combs out the ends of her hair.

It's the happiest she's felt in days.

Since what happened with JJ, she hasn't been able to have a moment to think clearly without running into him or having one of their friends bring him up in conversation. The only person who didn't was Pope. He veered straight away from that sore subject the last time she spoke to him, which, if her memory serves her well, was last night when they ate dinner with Cleo.

But even then, the comfortable avoidance of her drama with JJ while she sat with Pope doesn't hold a candle to the peace she feels sitting here on her own. The rushing sound of water paired with chirping birds and the breeze fluttering the treetops mollifies her ill-tempered attitude the longer she spends here, and, with her work for the day behind her, she intends to stay until daylight runs out.

At least that way she won't have to see JJ again. Instead, she'll eat dinner with Sarah and head straight to bed for another day of finding innovative ways to dodge him.

It isn't like she hasn't thought of hearing him out. Somewhere deep down, all she really wants is to accept the apology he keeps attempting to give to her and tell him how she really feels. But it's not that simple, especially not after what he said to her the other day. How is she supposed to trust that he won't freak out again the next time she tries to act friendly with him? What happens if he rejects her and they're forced to spend the rest of their lives together here?

Perhaps if they were back in the Outer Banks, the risk wouldn't be as severe, but there's a very real possibility that they'll never be rescued, and she'd rather not make her future a living hell by confessing her feelings to a person who claims to hate her. It'd be too complicated, and the last thing they need in a place where they rely on one another for survival is to complicate things more than they already have.

Who needs JJ, anyway? She thinks to herself, I'm perfectly fine right here. I live in paradise with my best friends, and I'm staring at the most beautiful waterfall I've ever—

"Y/N?"

Her eyes shoot away from where they were trained on the waterfall to see someone hauling themselves up over the rocks she climbed over less than fifteen minutes ago, making her entire body jolt in surprise. At the sight of a blonde head peeking over the top, along with a set of hands grappling for purchase to help him climb up, she shrieks in surprise at the eye contact JJ makes with her from afar and does the only thing she can think of to hide herself from him.

She falls forward off of the ledge she sits atop and splashes face-first into the water.

Of course, this doesn't do much to hide her. He already caught a glimpse of her as soon as he was able to see over the edge of the ground, and he already saw her half naked in the moonlight not long ago, but she reacted as though he's never seen her undressed anyway. It made her stomach drop and her body lurch on instinct until she practically belly flopped on the surface in a huge splash that sprayed him with water.

She has to spit water out of her mouth and force it from where it flew up her nostrils when she comes back up with reddened cheeks that have nothing to do with her sunburn. Her hands frantically move to cover herself, one arm slung over her chest while her other hand moves down to cover herself below. It leaves her feet as her only way of keeping herself afloat, kicking desperately enough to keep her above water as she tries to find the words to speak to him.

"I—You—You're here, what the fuck are you doing here?" she asks.

Her voice is shrill with embarrassment. It makes him grimace from where he stands at the edge of the water with nothing to display his reaction to the situation. Though, on the inside, he can't ignore how vigorously his heart pounds in his chest.

On the inside, he can't ignore the swirling storm of the feelings that've built up over the course of the past week or so, all of them culminating into this interaction that he's played and replayed in his mind over and over while planning what to say. But now that he's standing here, he's speechless. It may have something to do with walking in on her being nude as in broad daylight, contrary to the other time he saw her without a shirt, that has him so bent out of shape, but it's more so his nerves.

His stomach is churning with anxiety and worry. Worry that she won't accept his apology, worry that his attraction to her isn't reciprocated, and the ever-present worry he's felt over her safety since they were stranded here. The minor detail of her being completely naked in front of him for the first time doesn't help though. If anything, it muddles his mind further and makes his attempt to response to her slow down as his eyes unconsciously roam over the expanse of exposed skin beneath the clear blue water.

JJ blurts out before he can think of anything else to say, "I'm sorry."

Her expression is a mystery he has no chance of solving at this point. It morphs somewhere between embarrassment, anger, confusion, and something else he can quite place as he continue to ramble on.

"I was a dick the other night. I know you've been avoiding me and, trust me, I was trying to give you space, but"—he stops to breathe for a second or two, running his hand through his hair to push it out of his face—"I didn't wanna leave things with us on a bad note 'cause, you were right, we've been friends lately, and I didn't know how to handle that. I still don't," he says, "So, I'm sorry."

The water bobs around her chin the entire time she floats there and stares up at him with wide eyes. There's a heavy pause between what he last said and when she opens her mouth to speak, leaving them with nothing to do but look at each other with the white noise of nature crescendoing in their impossibly loud silence.

She's about to say something, then snaps out of it and glances down at herself, as if suddenly remembering her current state of undress, and asks, "Can we at least not do this while I'm butt ass naked? I can't imagine you'll retain anything if you're staring at my tits the whole time."

The sound of her sardonic tone almost makes him crumble in relief. It's a good sign, a sign of the dynamic they used to have before he went and fucked everything up over his anger at her for risking her life.

In hindsight, he knows he should've thanked her for saving John B, not scolded and humiliated her in front of everyone they know, but he had a hard time controlling it. As soon as they made it back to land in one piece, he wanted to hold onto her and never let go while, at the same time, wanting to shout at her for being so stupid.

He scoffs.

"I would never—"

She cuts him off, "You're literally staring at them right now."

And her narrowed eyes have him spinning around in place instantly, squeaking out a quick, "Alright, yeah, fair enough. Turning around," as he does it.

His sudden compliance after getting caught staring so blatantly makes her stifle a traitorous giggle to herself. She hates that he's capable of making her laugh right now. After everything he said to make her never want to speak to or see him again, after what she said at the creek about knowing he doesn't want anything more than a sexual relationship with her, the fact that he still makes her laugh is infuriating.

She stares at the back of him on her swim over to the edge of the water to put on her folded up clothes. From the uncovered, muscular back facing her wandering gaze to the dirt-dusted boots planted firmly on the ground, she takes him in and thinks herself a hypocrite for telling him not to stare.

All she ever does is stare. It's the one thing she has ever allowed herself to do in regards to her feelings for him. She hasn't been able to say or do anything, so she looks. She steals glances and silently worships everything he has to offer visually while appreciating aspects of his personality to herself—where neither he or anyone else could find out.

By the time she's stood back up on the side of the water with her panties back on and her freshly cleaned white shirt now clinging to her soaking skin, her nerves have already began to get the better of her. Her voice is unsteady this time around.

"Okay," she says, "I'm decent."

When he turns around again, he wants to object because she sure as shit ain't decent, not at all, but he can't bring himself to do anything but gawk at her for a second or two before he catches himself. He isn't sure if he'd call her wet top, which is now see through, being "decent" but he doesn't comment on the pointlessness of her putting it back on. At least it makes her feel less embarrassed about being seen by him, even if he can still see pretty much everything he had before.

If it were a few days ago, perhaps she wouldn't have cared. He already saw her anyway. It may have been dark out, but he still saw and touched and kissed her. The only thing that makes this different for her is the terms their relationship is on and how much more vulnerable she feels in the wake of their fight.

Her arms are crossed over her chest protectively on his way over to her.

She sits back down at the drop off into the swimming hole with her legs dangling in the shallow decline into the deeper depths of the water. Neither of them says a word until he too is sitting there beside her. It's the closest they've been to each other since the day after their fight, when he helped her pick the palm leaf off the tree, and they're just about ready to burst out of their skin with the mutual desire to get closer.

A moment passes, then she shifts to face him a little.

"If you really mean this, we're gonna have to lay out some rules here. Okay?" she asks.

Usually, he'd make a joke right about now. He'd say something about how he should've expected her to ruin it with rules, or ask her if she's going to make him sign a legally binding contract over it. Except, he doesn't.

It's the most confusing turn of events to him that was set off in a chain reaction after she kissed him for the first time, but he doesn't want her to think he doesn't take her seriously. For once, he actually cares about what she thinks of him, and it's such a new revelation, he doesn't know how to act around it. It leaves him sitting here with nothing other than a nod given in her direction, looking over at her with his mouth clamped shut.

She gets lost in his eyes for an instant.

"You can't freak out on me like that again. I don't know why you were so pissed at me, but that isn't okay. If you have a problem with me, we can talk about it, but humiliating me and telling all of our friends that I threw myself at you isn't cool. Like, at all. You had no fucking right to do that to me."

He takes in a breath and opens his mouth to apologize again, but she stops him before he can get a word out.

"You can't act all buddy buddy with me in private and kiss me, then act like you hate me in front of your friends. I won't let you treat me like that, and I won't do that to you either. It's just not fair to either of us," she says it sternly, and the next sentence nearly makes him choke on his own spit, "If you wanna fuck me, you have to respect me first. I'm not one of those Touron girls that'll kiss the ground you walk on and never call you out on your bullshit."

That, he realizes, is precisely why he has always been enamored with her. It's easy to forget sometimes that what initially made him dislike her is also part of what attracts him to her. He likes that she's able to put him in his place this way without being too timid or too aggressive about it.

The way he treats girls is a topic he'll never hear the end of, both from the people around him and his own self critical thoughts.

Other kids growing up at the same time he did had a mom and dad. They had structure and genuine love in their households guiding them and showing them how they should shape their future love lives, but JJ didn't have that. His mom split when he was six after a tumultuous and violent relationship with his dad, who then siphoned his unprocessed hatred for his ex-wife into his child. It is needless to say, his life has been loveless from his conception itself.

All he knew was that sex made him feel better. It was a coping mechanism—a form of escapism that would never last but would keep everything at bay if only for a little while—and he started to gain a reputation in Kildare for sleeping around a little more than most people consider to be normal. It wasn't as if he tricked anyone into thinking he wanted anything serious though. He never fills anyone's head with the idea of being his girlfriend, but it does sting for them to essentially get used for sex and never get a call or text back.

Her voice speaking up again cuts through his faraway thoughts and brings him back the present, back to the stare cutting him to the bone.

"Cause if you don't want anything from me except sex, I don't want you. You know I have feelings for you, everyone does at this point, and I won't let you play with my heart like that."

This time, his response is immediate, as if he can't even help himself with the shock of the new information sinking into him for the first time.

He says softly, dead serious for the first time in a long time, "I didn't know that."

To have that be his first and only response to everything she's said so far scares her shitless. It makes her wonder if the risk of telling him the truth was for nothing because he doesn't give anything about himself away in the four letter phrase, except for the fact that he's been in the dark about her feelings for him. He doesn't say if they're reciprocated, or if he agrees to the rules she's setting down should their relationship progress past its previous hatred, and it terrifies her.

The vulnerability is written across her face as he looks over at her hugging her knees to her chest, pulling them from where her ankles dipped into the water to curl her body close to itself. It's an unconscious gesture that tells him everything about how she's feeling without her saying anything yet. It tells him that she doesn't know how he feels yet either, and his stomach runs rampant with butterflies at the idea of having to admit it.

"Well, now you know," she says it as casually as she can, then starts to stammer, "You don't need to feel obligated to like me back obviously, I just figured it'd be better to tell you before someone else did. Sarah was gonna slip up sooner or later anyway. Either her or Cleo. Cleo reads me real easily, it's honestly a little—"

His lips are slotted against hers mid-sentence.

She's too shocked to kiss him back for the better half of a second, her eyes wide open until it clicks with her what's happening. Then, after her delayed reaction, they flutter shut and her head dips forward to meet his in the midst of the kiss with an enthusiasm to match his.

It isn't a reincarnation of the first kiss they shared—charged with sexual tension, aggression, and years of hatred accumulated into one heated moment.

However, it's as ardent as one would expect an interrupting kiss to be. His hands are cupping her face how they had after they came out of the water from killing the shark, yet their feelings for each other in this moment couldn't be any more different. It's somewhat awkward and fumbling with her knees hugged to her chest between them, but it makes her heart soar just the same as it did when it happened the first time.

But, then, she remembers the important topic of conversation and forces herself to pull away from it, not wanting to get too distracted before they can fully resolve their issues. His kiss was an answer in and of itself, but she needs to hear him agree in order to accept the apology. She won't settle for anything less.

Their noses brush as she murmurs, "Does that mean you feel the same?"

His mouth curves into a trademarked JJ smirk that sets her heart aflame.

"Take a wild guess, Princess," he says.

The taunting nickname he uses has her shoving him with her arm so he wobbles on the edge of the water enough to get his heart pounding without pushing him in completely, but, as always since they arrived here, it's a playful shove. She had no clue of his troublesome home life before he broke down in front of them in the hot tub over the summer, and now that she does, she's careful to never be too rough with him during their meaningless "fights".

They're always taking playful shots at one another any chance they can, but she'd never want to trigger a foul memory through it. Their back and forth banter is ingrained in the love language of their relationship, so she never wants it to accidentally upset him.

In the span of time it takes for her to shove his shoulder and unintentionally create distance between them in the heated aftermath of the kiss, the tension starts to dissolve again into their typical dynamic. She smiles at him again for the first time since his mistake on the beach that night, and he lets himself appreciate it in a way he wasn't able to before they finally confessed their feelings.

Technically, he didn't say anything about his, but they both know he agreed with her. They don't need it to be said in explicit terms to know what this moment means for them. It's a turning point, that much they know, and neither of them wants to resist it, so they don't. They let it take control and drag them into the epicenter of its madness, tying their hands behind their backs to leave them helpless. It's clear to her now that there's nothing they can do to stop themselves now.

Y/N breaks his gaze and chances a mischievous glance at the waterfall, then sizes him up out of the corner of her eye. He can tell without any mythical power of mind reading or straight-up asking her what's going on in that head of hers that she's up to something. He knows her too well to miss that look on her face and mistake it as something other than her being the evil little shit she is.

"What?" he asks in dread, anticipating something far different, far more demon-eqse than what she has in mind.

Her smile grows as she stands up from the curled up position she was in and casts him another cheeky grin over her shoulders before it clicks with him what she's doing.

The wet fabric of her shirt is peeled away from her torso in one quick motion under the guidance of her hands, as if she had to build up the nerve to do it and get it over with before her nerves got the better of her. From the obscured view he's allotted from behind her, he can only see the shape of her breast from the side and watches in surprise of her actions.

Somehow, seeing her strip unprompted in the middle of the overwhelming daylight shining down at them over their secret swimming spot is more shocking to him than her jumping into shark infested waters to save John B. It takes her tossing her top aside, shimmying her panties off of her legs, and diving headfirst into the crystalline water for him to fully process the situation.

What fully wakes him up from it is her coming up from underneath water to beckon him in. She's already starting off in the direction of the waterfall, calling out to him in one last teasing invitation.

"Are you coming in or not?"

Hell yeah, I'm coming in, a voice in the back of his mind says with his body jolting into action quicker than the thought can finish itself.

She must press her lips together to stifle her laughter at the sound of him standing up and shuffling around on the ledge they sat on in a frantic effort to undress himself. The mental image she has of it is a mirror to reality: JJ almost slipping on the wet ground as he shoves his shorts and underwear off of his hips and kicks the offending material aside.

A clumsy splash reverberates through the area a second or two later, and, while he's underwater, she can't help but let out a quick burst of a giggle and peek around at the bubbling surface. The waves made by him jumping in after her bob up to her lower lip, making her spit some of it out on her leisurely swim to the other side of the natural pool.

JJ comes up looking a mess, his hair plastered to his face before he shakes it out of his eyes like a wet dog, but she has never found him more endearing than she does now. He paddles after her, fully engrossed in their little game of cat and mouse.

"Where are you going?"

She flips onto her back for a moment to see him. Her hand points to the waterfall now pouring close enough to her turned back that it sends stray droplets flying onto her shoulders and churns the water her hair floats in.

Contrary to his state of disheveled yet, as per usual, effortless beauty, she appears as native to their surroundings as the flowers growing in the woods around the water. For someone who was raised in the pristine conditions of the Kook kingdom, where the worst that can happen to a girl like her is a broken nail or unrequited frat boy crush, she fits in seamlessly with the island life they live. As it turns out, they were right to make it official through the silly ceremony they did by the fire. His girl is a Pogue through and through.

She says it loudly enough for him to hear over the rushing noise of the waterfall, "Take a wild guess," and promptly disappears within the sheet of splashing water.

The waterfall consumes her as though she was never there, her body backing up into it in swift kicks until she's hidden from him.

For a second, he's worried.

His pussy-whipped—without even getting any yet, he reminds himself—and love struck mind comes up with the possibility of her being dragged under or sucked into an underwater cave by the current with every powerful drag he makes through the water in pursuit of her. Logically, he knows it's merely a waterfall, a smaller one at that, that won't create enough of a current to do something like that.

His eyes are clamped shut under the spray of the falls on his way through, but as soon as he wipes his eyes and opens them to the awaiting natural beauty of nature, a space in the world carved specifically for them, he has to blink away his disbelief.

The waterfall acts as a divider between the outside world and the little secret she stumbled upon on her quick exploration of the area before JJ followed her here. On one side, the rest of the island sits in its bountiful glory for their friends to find them if they so please. On the other side sits an untouched cove. Leaves climb the moistened walls of the hidden paradise, leading down from the high veranda to the floor of smoothed rock that drops off into the depths of glowing blue water.

It's possibly the most beautiful thing he's ever laid eyes on. Well—his wonderstruck gaze flickers over her floating with her head dipped back in a peaceful submission to rest on the edge of the rock—almost the most beautiful thing.

She can sense him approaching in the gentle waves rippling from his movements, and her eyes peek open to see his face in the dimmed light at the same time she feels his hands taking hold of her waist.

"So, this is your new hiding spot?" he asks.

His head is tilted up to see the high "ceiling" of the small cove in quiet wonder, never having seen anything like it, even back home in Kildare. He follows the leaves climbing the walls up to the top where, he thinks, there's a small opening where a shaft of sunlight sneaks in. Following the light down to where it shines on the water next to them, his focus is taken up by the vibrant water bobbing in the tiny glimmer of light...that is until he feels her lips on his neck.

His mouth turns in a soft smirk, and she thinks his hands tighten their hold on her waist at the contact.

She shakes her head and lets herself smile against his warm, tanned skin.

"Our new hiding spot."

Tag List: @gabiatthedisco, @fangirlvoice, @black-syren, @apparrio, @particularcth, @planetdemon, @idk-ijustworkhere, @krisphann, @astrydis, @k-k0129, @zarahsloves, @sundownsdusk, @jessmaybank, and @stilesflannels.

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #outer banks #obx #jj maybank smut

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authorkun · 3 years

Text

𝓒𝓾𝓽! 𝓣𝓱𝓪𝓽'𝓼 𝓪 𝓦𝓻𝓪𝓹!

"Good Morning everyone! How are you doing this fine morning?"

The crowd roared into cheers and shouts. The moderator waved at a few audience members. "Today, we have a few special guests with us! You might have seen before on your own tv. Please welcome the cast members of Jujutsu Kaisen, L/n, Kugisaki, Itadori, and Fushiguro!" The audience cheered again seeing the actors walk out from backstage.

The four took a seat on the pristine couches, waving and smiling at the cameras. Their outfits seemed to match the colors of blue and white. Yuuji wore baggy denim jeans, a white hoodie, and a matching denim vest, and converse. A Fannypack slung around his chest. Nobara wore similar attire of a cropped zipped hoodie, loose jeans, and combat boots.

M/n squished in between the two wore a loose button down with newspaper like designs, bleach patched jeans, and sneakers. Megumi, sitting at the other end of the couch wore an oversized blue and white jacket with a white t shirt underneath, black skinny jeans, and Nike shoes.

M/n sent a dashing smile towards the crowd earning an uproar of cheers. When the four had sat down the audience calmed down.

"Alrighty then! How are you guys? It's great to finally have you on the show!" The host greeted warmly shifting slightly in her chair. "Ah I think I can speak for all of us, we're doing great! It's such a pleasure being here today!" L/n spoke taking the lead. A wide grin plastered on his face.

"As you may know, Jujutsu Kaisen is a new uprising show. Popular among many young adults this year. Ranked number 2 in the shows most watched. Taking the cake as one of the fastest to gain audience grossing. So, how is staring in one of the most popular shows in Japan?" Small clips of the show played while the hostess talked.

The screen fading back to the four. "It's amazing, being apart of a show like this. It's almost scary seeing yourself on tv." Itadori explained, M/n chuckled at the small twinkle in his eye. "It's like a dream come true. Really, the director is one of the nicest person you could meet." Kugisaki added. "If I'm not wrong, your twin plays as Sukuna?" The attention adverted towards Itadori.

"Uh, yeah. Actually when we auditioned, we tried out for the opposing role. Although we look alike his voice is a bit different. But the voice he uses in the show is purposely rougher." The memory of the shocked face of the director seeing the two. "Initially they were going to use one actor and mix the scenes together. But right before filming the idea had gone out the window." A picture of the two on set played on the tv.

"This show was both of your big breaks. It was also one of L/n's and Fushiguro's major roles. Before you guys had starred in smaller productions right?" The hostess leaned her chin on her hand. "Yeah, I was in a few smaller films before an old friend suggested auditioning. That's actually a funny story of how I got the part. Do you guys want to hear it?" The audience cheered. "An old friend knocked on my door and shoved the script into my hands.

It looked like he ran a marathon, as he basically slumped over in exhaustion. Standing in front of me he frantically starts yelling bits of sentences. He looked at me and was like," M/n had put his arm out panting slightly imitating the guy's stature. "Role....*pant*..... Big break *pant*....Audition for main role...*pant*." The crowd laughed at his portrayal. "First, I actually auditioned for the main role, but then the twins came along and blew it out of the water." He playfully sent a glare towards his friend who sat next to him.

"Your part is as a second-year with Zenin, Inumaki, and Kouichi (Panda) . But it seems your character has a lot of screen time." The hostess leaned in a little more interested.

"Yeah my character likes to hang out with the first-years a lot more. Not that the other second-years are bad. Zenin is like my sister."

A soft smile never leaving his lips. "Speaking about cast relationships, what's the dynamics with you guys?" Kugisaki, Itadori, and L/n gave each other looks before cracking up. Megumi rolled his eyes playfully at the three. "We're all pretty close, but ask anyone who works with us and they'll say these three are joined by the hip." Fushiguro explained with a small smile at the others. "Could you expand more on that?"

"At the beginning before the table read, the producers and director thought it was a good idea for us plus Shinji (Sukuna) to 'bond'...in response to that Gojo, shoved us into a room, locked it, and told us to 'get along." The audience laughed at the male's expression.

"After like 5 minutes of silence these three start dying of laughter. After i think, two hours, Gojo comes back and slams open the door. By the time he did that we were already pretty close. He looked out of breath, and had this frightened look on his face. Then he tells us, he had forgotten that he locked us in the cramped room..." the audience laughed again as the raven head shifted in his seat.

"See they went on break for about an hour and a half, when they had gotten ready to continue, they realized we weren't there. Don't tell anyone this but, Gojo has a horrible memory. He said they looked for us for a half an hour and were about to call security, because none of them had our phone numbers. Anyways in summary, after those two hours these idiots come out attached at the hip, and became everyone's pain in the ass." He sent a sarcastic glare towards his friends.

The crowd was roaring in laughter at the story. "We actually have some bloopers and videos you guys have posted. Do you mind if we play some?" The audience cheered in a 'yes'. "Sure, why not?" M/n answered.

On the same tv they started playing the small compilation of videos. The first one qued was one Itadori had posted on his story. It showed him with his costume on.

'So, just started filming today and this dumbass hurts himself doing absolutely nothing.' Yuuji had showed M/n holding a ice pack to his forehead with sunglasses on. The male shot up a peace sign towards the camera. The audience chuckled at the current L/n's embarrassment. 'This stupid f*cker made us redo the scene, because somehow he doesn't know how to stand. Randomly during the shot he's shown trying to lean on an invisible force and falls flat on his face.'

The next video shown was the actual footage that Itadori explained. In the video it was zoomed in on M/n, who like he said was standing and leaned to his left. You could see the horror in his eyes as he fell. The caption being, 'This dumb bitch🥰'. Another fit of laughter came from the crowd.

The next video that played was in the POV of M/n as the camera flipped showing the back side of Shinji with Sukuna's famous tattoos. He ran up and slapped a pie tin with just whipped cream in his face. "What the hell! Get back here you bitch!" You could hear M/n's laugh while the feed was a bit blurry. Karma seemed to hit has the male tripped and fell onto the concrete.

The video ended with a blurry picture. The studio was filled in laughter as the male in the video sat embarrassingly between his friends who were also dying. Yuuji was slumped over his friend, wheezing.

Timeskip

"Well as great as this has been, we have to say goodbye to these amazing actors."

The hostess said with a smile. The audience boo'ed at the statement. "It was such a pleasure to be here. Hopefully we'll get to be on here again in the future." With that, M/n sent a wink and signature dashing smile towards the crowd before walking off with the others. Getting off the stage he sighed out in relief. "Oí those interviews are exhausting."

"You can say that again." Yuuji smiled. "I'm starved who else wants to get out of here?" Nobara complained swiping through her phone. "How about that diner down the street. The ratings are pretty good." The (h/c) haired male suggested. "Yeah sure. I'm pretty sure we're off the hook anyways." Fushiguro said grabbing a water bottle from the table.

"I think the driver's waiting out back. I'm gonna leave, cause I'm not waiting on you slowpokes." Kugisaki snickered. "Hey! We're coming too!" Itadori yelled chasing after her with the two others trailing behind. Before M/n could walk out the exit a hand had tapped his shoulder. Turning back, it was the hostess with a innocent smile. "Can I help you?" The brunette had twirled a piece of hair between her index finger and thumb. "Would you perhaps want to go out sometime?" A confident smirk played on her face. "Ah, sorry most of my schedule is booked up with filming and interviews. If I would I could." He shyly scratched his neck sending an awkward smile towards the girl.

"I bet you could make time~" she persisted. "Sorry I-." "Oi n/n we're waiting on your slow ass!" M/n silently thanked Kugisaki for interrupting the girl's persistent flirting. "My friends calling, I've got to go. It was nice to meet you though!" He sent one last smile before running off to the car his friends were waiting in. "What took you so long?" Itadori whined. "The hostess insisted on going out with me." He shivered at the thought. "Yikes. I swear you always get hit on anywhere we go." Megumi groaned. "Hey it's not my fault I'm hot." M/n stuck his tongue out. A light blush dusted across Fushiguro's face.

"Aye stop flirting with each other. We're heading for the diner across 9th." Nobara once again interrupted, giving instructions to the driver.

"Next stop, food!"

To be continued

#jujutsu kaisen x male reader #jjk x reader #seme male reader #gojo satoru x top male reader #itadori yuji x top male reader #jjk sukuna #jjk megumi #jjk gojo #jjk itadori #jjk zenin #jjk inumaki #jujutsu kaisen x reader #actor au #au

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ichorai · 3 years

Text

cellmates ; five ; j.wy

pairing ; jung wooyoung x reader

summary ; stuck in jail after stealing a necklace off the princess, what happens when your new cellmate with an impossible escape plan comes along?

themes ; fantasy, angst, slowburn, action, adventure, medieval, pirates, magic, elves, mermaids, royalty

words ; 8.9k

warnings / includes ; character death, blood and grime and injury and everything in between, reader being tied/chained up :(, vulgar cursing, crying, rowdy pirates, "keep the love interests away from each other" trope <3, ✨pure confusion✨, me torturing my characters once again yikes, ateez cameos !!, cellmates to (future) lovers !!

a/n ; uhm. hi. first off, i apologize for taking so long with this series KWHJKSDFK and second, i am also so sorry for what you're about to read o.0 this one's a real angsty part folks :') i swear i swear it gets better don't be too upset :(( i love writing this series so much (it's prob my favorite original story) and im so excited to hear yalls thoughts :D

cellmates masterlist.

a map of this universe is included at the end of the chapter !!!

Cerulean beaches never quite looked like real beaches to you. The sand was as white as snow, the gentle lapping waters so bright they looked to be molten sapphires. It was all far too perfect to be naturally authentic. You were pleased to find that your boots left shallow imprints in the sand, disrupting the once pristine terrain.

Night was creeping upon you once again, and you were in desperate need for a good sleep. You were lucky that Yunho didn’t live very far off, also pleasantly surprised to find that you could even remember the way back (though admittedly, it took a considerable amount of backtracking).

The front of his little cottage was just as you remembered, albeit dark and somewhat dingy. None of the candles or oil lamps were lit and the curtains were drawn. The large expanse of his garden seemed somewhat unmaintained, weeds starting to sprout from between the wilting, once bright flowers.

You knocked against the door thrice, clasping your hands behind your back while you waited. How would Yunho react upon seeing you? What if he blamed you for losing Wooyoung? What if he didn’t believe you? What would you say then? Much like the first time you came to Yunho’s little cottage, tumultuous questions and irrational thoughts churned about in your mind.

It took a long while for you to realize that nobody had answered the door yet. You blinked, mystified, and raised a fist to rap on the wood again. You grew impatient rather quickly, knocks progressively becoming more frequent and hurried.

“Yunho?” You called out after about five minutes of waiting. By then, it was obvious that the man was either not home or avoiding you on purpose. And considering how friendly and sweet the pink-headed giant was the last you saw, you doubted it was the latter. “I’m coming in!”

The door opened in a fluid motion, knocking against the wall behind as you swung it open. You stepped inside tentatively, peering around with widened eyes. It was completely dark inside. So much so that it took you a few minutes for your eyes to properly adjust to the ill-lit hallway. Just as you had remembered, the small living room was to your left and quaint kitchen to your right, the winding staircase situated in the corner. The familiar scent of maple wood was still lingering in the air, although faint and almost imperceptible.

You shut the door behind you and toed off your boots, shuffling into the kitchen.

“Yunho?” Your voice eerily echoed in the empty cottage.

And so you made your way up the staircase, peering into the bedrooms. A heavy feeling gripped at your chest when you glanced into Yunho’s bedroom. That was where you and Wooyoung kissed… you could still remember the feeling of his arms wrapped around your waist, his warm breath on the back of your neck. You wondered what would’ve happened if you hadn’t stopped him. How far would the two of you have gone?

Shaking all thoughts of the past away, you bounded back down the stairs. There was no sign of Yunho at all. Just where could he be? You tried your best comforting yourself; perhaps he had gone out for a walk. Surely he’d be back soon.

Much to your dismay and gradually rising concern, Yunho didn’t show up at all. Not when the sun started to rise again, not when you passed out in sheer exhaustion on a kitchen stool (you couldn’t bring it in yourself to go back up to the bedrooms), and not even when you stirred back into consciousness, the late morning sun glaring at you harshly through the slivers between the curtains.

Your bones cracked and popped as you stood up and arched your back, rolling your stiff neck from side to side. From the pirate ship, you had brought little else than a knapsack full of gold you found in one of the cellars, food that could last you a couple days, water skins, and two sheathed daggers. Everything else on the ship was practically worthless, or too heavy to carry.

With a heavy sigh, you splashed water onto your face using the kitchen tap and patted your sleep-ruffled hair down. The skin around your wrists were still raw and stung when you rinsed away the crusted blood. You wished San had given you that coconut extract lotion; you couldn’t seem to find it anywhere on the ship. Guilt-stricken, you turned off the water and slung the knapsack over your good shoulder.

If Yunho was gone, then where else could you go? It seemed wrong to stay in his home without his knowing.

Air. You just needed air to clear up your mind.

Stepping outside felt like a mistake. Under the bright sunlight, you felt your head throb dully in agitation. The garden looked even more lamentable now than last night, the flowers drooping so far that their browning petals grazed the dry soil beneath. The air felt thick and heavy, and you huffed out several breaths to relax your tense muscles, shutting your eyes in the process.

“What are you doing?”

The voice was so sudden and unexpected, you couldn’t help but shriek, flinching back against the cottage door. You were met with an old man standing just shy of Yunho’s unkempt garden, his gaze confused and somewhat judgemental.

“W-What?” You muttered once regaining your scattered thoughts.

“I said,” the older man shot you an exasperated look. “What are you doing, waiting by that house? Nobody lives there.”

It felt as if cold water was dripping down your spine, and you crossed your arms over your chest, shivering slightly. “But… that can’t be true… Yunho lives here. He’s a, uhm, a baker, I think. This is his house.”

The old man regarded you like someone would look at a madman. There was something in his tone that told you that he wasn’t taking you seriously. “I’m sorry to say this, but nobody’s lived there for years and years. I’ve never heard of a baker named Yunho in this area.”

“No… but I was just here a few days ago with him…” Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip in thought. What was going on? Where could he have gone? What could’ve happened to him?

In your peripheral vision, you saw the old man hobble away, but not without stopping to glance back at you with narrowed eyes every few steps.

And then you remembered with a sharp intake of breath. You and Wooyoung were thrown into jail to fade away into nothing but legends… and now nobody believes you really exist… Wooyoung was thought to be dead by everybody… could the same be happening to his innocent, pink-haired friend? A dark, tar-slicked hand reached out into the confines of your chest and curled its slimy fingers around your palpitating heart in a steely grip.

They took Yunho. The realization had you slapping a palm to your mouth, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. It all made sense; the untended garden, the old man saying nobody’s lived here for years… it sickened you to think that the only reason you could remember him was because you weren’t in Cerulea when he ‘disappeared’.

“Oh, no. Oh, god, no!” You leaned against the door, overwhelmed. If they took Yunho, would they have Wooyoung, too? Did Wooyoung even come back to Cerulea? If he wasn’t here, then he’d be the only other person who remembered Yunho.

Just what the hell are you going to do now?

It felt wrong to stay in Yunho’s empty little cottage with your newfound realization. The pirate ship was the second best option, but even that was much too far for your trembling legs; you doubted you’d even make it to the beaches, much less get in a small boat to row back to the anchored ship. Besides, the memory of San jumping off the side was one that you weren’t very keen on reliving.

And so, that was how you found yourself in front of an inn, only two cobbled roads away. The heavy door whined as you gently nudged it open, shuffling inside. Your heart was thumping against your ribcage so loudly that you could barely hear anything else. For once, you were glad that your name had faded into legend. To them, you were probably just another nobody.

The inn held the thick aroma of cheap alcohol and spritzer perfume. You glanced around curiously, noting the few people poking away at their breakfast and chugging down their frothy ales.

What looked to be the owner of the establishment was standing behind a counter, looking bored. He caught your eyes, and despite your head telling you to turn around and walk back to the pirate ship, you found yourself shuffling forward.

“What can I do for you?” The innkeeper asked, eyeing your haggard appearance.

Feebly, you pulled out a handful of gold coins and dropped them onto the wood of the counter. “Can I just get a room for the night? Will this be enough?”

The man across from you stared at you incredulously, his gaze flickering from the gold to your wide eyes. “Where’d you get all this money from? You didn’t steal it, did you?”

You blinked twice, shrugging your shoulders slightly. “They’re my savings.”

He looked upon you dubiously, but accepted the coins nonetheless. “You can have breakfast if you’d like. It comes with the room.”

Shaking your head slightly, you replied, “thanks, but I just want to get settled in for now. I’ll come down for luncheon.”

“Suit yourself,” the innkeeper quipped, sliding over a rusty key with eight engraved into its dull metal. “Head upstairs, turn left.”

And so that’s where you went, the wooden stairs creaking under your weight. You slotted the key into the lock of a door that had a large metal eight clearly displayed, and heaved the door open. By now, it felt as if your muscles were on fire. Everything seemed to be aching.

The first thing your eyes laid upon was a small bed, a thin, lavender-hued fleece wool blanket draped over the lumpy mattress and a single measly pillow propped up at its head. It took everything within you not to dive into the warmth of the woolen layer, but you managed to bide your time, even if it was just a couple minutes.

You toed off your boots, the soles of your feet practically numb. The pack that hung on your shoulder was next to come off, sliding down your arm and onto the bedside table. There was an unlit candle by the windowsill, but still more than enough light streaming in, seeing how it was still quite early in the morning.

The air smelled of breakfast from downstairs; consisting of, from what you saw, honeyed oatcakes and fruit tarts and rations of fried eggs and sausage. Your stomach was still quite empty, but you didn’t have the heart to go back. You needed time to think, time to rest.

After you nursed a few sips of water from a bottle in your knapsack, you finally allowed yourself to sink onto the bed, sighing out in contentment.

Everything felt so quiet, so still. This all felt like one of the stories you’d make up back when you were still in the cell. Perhaps it was all a bad dream, and you’d wake up in Wooyoung’s arms in Yunho’s little cottage, his lips littering soft kisses down the column of your throat until you stirred back into consciousness. A shiver ran through your spine and you sluggishly tucked the blanket up to your chin.

But since this wasn’t a dream, you found yourself at a loss.

“Oh, Wooyoung,” you whispered. “What should I do? Where are you?”

It was so quiet that you could imagine Wooyoung’s voice in your head saying, “Don’t worry about me. Just go. Get back on the ship and sail away and never look back.” You frowned at the thought, curling onto your side so that your knees were pressed up to your chest.

“I love you,” were the last words imaginary-Wooyoung murmured, before your mind grew blank. The silence that followed was what ultimately lulled you into a tranquil slumber.

You were awoken partly from the light from outside angling directly into your shut eyes, and partly from the agitated growl emitting from your stomach. Blearily blinking the sleep away, you glanced around the room, fumbling for the bottle in the knapsack. After gulping down enough to quench your thirst, you slid out from underneath the purple blankets.

And following digging your knuckles into your eye sockets, you stumbled towards your boots, shoving your still-sore feet in. You didn’t bother lacing up the loose threads. After all, you were just going down for lunch, anyway.

Downstairs, the inn seemed far more crowded than it had been in the morning. A twinge of paranoia sang its trill song in the back of your mind, but you pushed the thoughts away, moving to sit on a dark stool in the corner.

“Slept well, I presume?” The innkeeper grinned slightly, raising an eyebrow at the state of your rumpled hair. “What’ll you have for luncheon, then?”

“Anything you have, I suppose,” you replied in a raspy tone, clearing your throat slightly.

A bowl of steaming rice and battered fish cubes slid across the counter, along with a side of warm bread and a slab of light canary-hued butter melting off the top. You were quick to tuck in, eating at a pace that would most probably have your stomach complaining in the near future.

The innkeeper looked like he wanted to ask you something, but ultimately didn’t get the chance as an influx of customers poured through the doors. You barely glanced upwards, wanting nothing more than to finish up your meal and head back upstairs to properly plan out what you were going to do. The growing crowd’s noise was starting to make you feel a little antsy.

A solid five minutes later, your bowl was already empty, save for sticky rice kernels stuck to the bottom. You dropped a gold coin next to the half-eaten buttery bread as a token of thanks for the innkeeper.

And when you hopped off the stool and looked forwards, you could practically feel your heart lurch into your throat. The sight of him was one that you never thought you’d see again, nor did you want to. You’d recognize him anywhere. He looked unchanged, the same roughly-shaven beard covering the expanse of his squared jaw, the jagged scar that trailed over his sallow cheekbones. Those damned stormy eyes, the same color as the princess’ silver necklace.

The man that had guarded your cell for God knows how long surveyed the chatting crowd with an ugly scowl imprinted onto his features, nose upturned as if he misliked being amongst the common folk. He moved away from the door, shoving past the common civilians milling about. The innkeeper was the first to notice the burly man’s presence, raising a questioning eyebrow.

“Hello, sir. How can I help you today?”

Completely skipping over any need for niceties, the guard held up an unfurled scroll, “We’re searching all nearby premises for a dangerous criminal. Looks like this.”

From your position, you couldn’t see what he was showing the innkeeper, but it was quite obvious that it was some sort of rough artistic rendition of you. Dread trickled into you as you watched his face morph into one of slight recognition.

You needed to leave. Right now.

The busy throng of civilians were used to your advantage as you silently weaved through the crowded inn, people you bumped into ranging from deliriously drunk to slightly tipsy. Your heartbeat was thundering far too loudly, to the point where you couldn’t hear what the guard was growling out. You were a couple meters behind him now… if he so much as looked backwards, you would be a dead person standing.

Shit. The knapsack. It was still in your room. You probably wouldn’t last two days without it. And so, you set off for upstairs, pace steadily growing quicker, in tandem with your palpitating heart rate.

Grab your pack, leave from the window, repeated itself over and over in your head, a mantra of panic and dread. Downstairs was too much of a risk.

You were running so quickly that your boots caught onto the wood of the stair steps, and you just about face planted against the bunt of the hard surface. Pain blossomed across your nose bridge and temple. Slightly disoriented, you pushed yourself back onto your feet and rushed away. No time. There was no time at all to get hurt. You needed to leave. What good were you to Yunho, to Wooyoung, if you were thrown back into a cell?

Utter relief sank its greedy claws into you as you burst into your room. No time, no time, no time, your own voice echoed in your head. You grabbed the knapsack and pushed at the window and—

“Shit!” You cursed angrily when the window didn’t budge, the cold panes wedged tightly against the wooden slats. It was then that you noticed the bolted lock clipping the window pane and wooden framing together. “Oh, fuck.” Your breaths came out as tight, staggered pants.

Before you could decide on what to do next, you heard shrill screaming come from downstairs, the terrible sound of steel against flesh reaching your ears. There was nowhere to go from here. You were trapped.

Practically hyperventilating at this point, you scurried back to the door. Perhaps if you went downstairs and blended into the crowd, you could get out without anybody else noticing.

But alas, you never got the chance. Because just as you turned into the hall, you were met with the horrendous sight of the stormy-eyed guard, the very same one that you saw every single day you were in that rotten cell, an appalling look of triumph splayed across his rugged features.

A leering grin twisted his ugly features in such a horrid manner that it took all you had in you not to retch. You noticed the way his sword was unsheathed, a ripe shade of carmine trickling down its sleek blade. No doubt that’s the innkeeper’s blood, you thought solemnly.

Before you could react, the guard’s calloused hand shot out to grab your forearm, pulling you along with him so roughly that you stumbled onto the floor, hands and knees scraping against the wood in a manner that had your skin torn and bleeding. Feebly, you attempted to grab at anything to hit him with, to hold on to out of desperation. With no remaining patience, the monster of a man yanked you upwards by the throat. Choked gasps left you as your hands darted up to claw at his clenching fingers, but you immediately stiffened when he snarled out something that had your blood running cold.

“The Gods have been kind to you today, girl. I would have you speared right here… have you bleeding out until all the life has been drained right out of you.” His putrid breath fanned across your neck as you struggled in his iron-clad grip fruitlessly. “Lucky for you, the princess has personally requested you be brought back alive.”

It was dark outside when Wooyoung cracked his eyelids open for the second time. Through the window across from him, he could see a plethora of stars speckled across a blanket of raven black, glinting and winking at him through the glass. The room he was in was beautifully decorated, stone arches elegantly curving just below the ceiling and intricate flame holders spaced out on the pristine walls. The candles bathed the room in a gentle honey-like luminescence; calming and tranquil, almost a sedative. All of his previous aches and pains were now dulled to gentle numbness.

Where am I?

“Glad to see you’re back awake. You’re not going to pass out on me again, are you?”

Wooyoung nearly screamed at the sudden voice from beside him, flinching so hard that the crown of his skull knocked against the bed’s headboard. He hissed in pain, face contorting into a grimace.

The elf (Yeosang was his name, Wooyoung faintly recalled) muffled a snort underneath his breath before swiftly pulling up a chair and sitting beside him, “Does it still hurt anywhere? I tried to heal your wounds with sarcio essence, but seeing that you’re human, it’ll take a bit longer for you to recover. You took quite a beating, you know.”

Wooyoung tried to speak, but the dryness in his throat made it hard to speak.

“Oh, here.” The attentive elf poured cold water from a pitcher into a small cup, handing it over to Wooyoung. He gingerly drank, swallowing with great effort.

“Where… where am I?”

After pursing his lips in thought, Yeosang bowed his head slightly, glancing at the tight bandages wrapped around the dark-headed man’s torso. “You’re in Nymaeden.”

“Nymaeden?!” Wooyoung just about shrieked. His bruised features twisted in agony. Perhaps he shouldn’t have shouted. Then, in a much softer tone, he mumbled out, “how did I get here?”

He was, most likely, all the way across the world from you. Although his mind was still heavily clouded, you were still fresh and prominent in his mind. He hoped you were okay… left tied up on that pirate ship… Gods, this was all his fault… What a fool he was, thinking you’d be okay after all that you’d gone through. You probably thought that he was dead.

The blond elf arched an eyebrow. “You don’t remember?” When Wooyoung shook his head in hesitant denial, Yeosang continued on patiently, leaning forward.

“It was just three nights ago…”

The waters were cold, seeping into his flesh and bones, filling every one of his orifices, the salt trickling into him like sand down an hourglass. He could feel it drip into his lungs. Bubbles of his life slipped past his cracked-open lips and Wooyoung, with what little energy he had left to spare, lifted his fingers and tried to catch the small globules of air. The sticky blood that clung onto his skin like honey dissipated into the ocean, staining the waters a darker, sinister hue.

Wooyoung closed his eyes. His limp body sank further and further down. This was the end.

But was it?

Mermaids, being curious and spirited creatures they were, watched the injured handsome man drift across the ocean, crimson blood seeping out of his wounds. They had seen how he was thrown off the ship, how he had fought when he was onboard. They took pity on him. Even unconscious, a pain, far deeper-rooted than his physical cuts and gashes, was quite obviously splayed across his features. It was the face of a man with an utterly broken heart. He had just lost something very dear to him, that was made abundantly clear.

The small group of mermaids glanced at each other worriedly, almost immediately reaching a mutual consensus. In a swarm of colorful scales and wispy locks of hair, they swam towards the unmoving body.

One of them shamelessly prodded at him, ogling him with widened eyes, and they waited with baited breath. Wooyoung did not awaken. And so, two of the elegant creatures wrapped their arms around his leaking torso, and jolted into a brisk swim, carrying him across the oceans. Wooyoung’s raven hair pulled away from his face, revealing the deep gashes across his paling skin. A thinning trail of his blood followed them. They had to be quick; this man was just on the verge of greeting death.

They were taking him to Nymaeden, the land of the Elves. The elvish folk were the best healers they knew, and they were rather fond of the mermaids. Perhaps they would be willing to heal this unfortunate soul.

“We found you on the beaches,” Yeosang said in a discolored tone. “You were… you were practically dead. It was a miracle we got your heart rate back up, really. You’re either an incredibly thick-skulled fighter or… you’re just a coward afraid of death.”

Wooyoung winced at the elf’s stinging remark. Which was it? Was he running away from what was inevitable? What was he fighting for?

Y/N, the small voice in his head chimed. Wooyoung swallowed heavily.

“These mermaids… could I speak to them? Maybe they saw where the pirate ship went!”

Almost immediately, Yeosang shook his head. “I’m sorry, the mermaids are long gone now. They’re due up North, and I doubt they’d come back anytime soon.” There was a whicker of sympathy hidden behind his molten hazel irises. “Do you have any other plans? We can’t exactly keep you here in the medbay for all eternity.”

For a second, Wooyoung’s ragged breathing stilled.

“Pirates,” he murmured under his breath unsurely, just loud enough for the elf to pick up. “Where can I find them?”

Rearing back, Yeosang hissed out, “you must’ve hit your head harder one too many times, human. You were almost in death’s bony grasp, and now you want to go back?”

“I don’t care!” Wooyoung erupted, flinging his hands upward, despite his muscles screeching in agony. “It’s not about me anymore. I left her on that ship… and I have to get her back. Please, Yeosang. Please.”

There was a beat of tense silence. Yeosang was no longer looking at the pleading injured man, but his head angled towards the window, gazing at the pale moon that decorated the night’s horizon in deep thought.

“You mustn’t tell anyone,” the blonde elf warned, narrowing his eyes. Wooyoung nodded vehemently. “Elves and pirates don’t mesh well together, I’m sure you know. Pirates are nowhere to be found in this country, they know well enough to steer clear of our waters. However… if you head westward past our nation’s border, you’ll find yourself in Cinisia. It might look like a small, harmless country, but I’m afraid you’d be gravely mistaken. Cinisia is perhaps the most dangerous country on the maps. Along their west coast, there’s an illegal trading market. Pirates swarm the coast like ants would spilt honey. If you’re looking for pirates, I’d bet all my silvers they’re there.”

Wooyoung took a moment to contemplate this. “How do you know of this market?”

“I’ve got into muddy territory with pirates myself,” he uttered with a stormy expression. A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I have said this before. Elves and pirates? Not the best of friends, I can tell you that.”

Releasing a shuddering sigh, Wooyoung asked one final question. “Do you think I’ll find them? Do you think I’ll get Y/N back?”

Yeosang leveled a cold gaze with the dark-haired man, before gracefully rising to his feet and striding towards the door. “I’ll get you a map and traveling clothes and rations. You can leave at first light, so get some sleep. You’ll be needing it.”

A sinking feeling weighed heavily in Wooyoung’s stomach. He hadn’t answered the question.

Right before he left, Yeosang paused by the arched doorway and spoke once more without even turning to look at him. “And just so you know… if you make it out of that market alive and empty handed… I want you back here in Nymaeden. There’s something I want to offer you.”

The elf left in a blur of sage fabrics and soft flaxen locks. The honeyed flames of the candles withered inwards with his departure, faint tails of smoke dissipated into the air. The room faded into darkness, but Wooyoung was far too afraid to shut his eyes.

He was scared of dreaming of you.

That morning was one of the toughest he’s ever had. Yeosang had handed him a pack of traveling rations and equipment, bidding him adieu with a stout nod of his angular face. His muscles groaned and screamed with agony with his every step. The trek to Cinisia took hours upon hours, with hardly a break. Wooyoung was far too jittery to stop. He had to keep going. Creeks babbled with glowing water and the trees whispered poems in the wind, their alluring shadows offering a tempting sanctuary.

The contrast between Nymaeden and Cinisia was startling. Whilst the former was a luscious country of opals and forestry and pale elegant fortresses climbing to the sky, the latter was… well, it was quite hard to tell what anything looked like past the thick red smog lacing the horizon. The air stank of ale and smoke.

Definitely pirate territory, Wooyoung surmised grimly.

The shrill noises of whistling and hollering was a telltale sign that he was close. Wooyoung stepped over weather-beaten rocks, peering around the rocky cliff ledge to see hundreds, perhaps even thousands of ruffians gathered together in a colorful flurry of stolen fabrics, foods, and riches that seemed all the more glorious under the sweltering sun. Now, it smelled strongly of stale fruitcakes and gunpowder and sweat. Not the best of aromas, that was for sure. There were also pirates yelling out indiscernible prices that seemed to climb with every shout. He was pretty sure he saw a couple of them scuffling in a fight, some landing a couple square punches (most missed because they seemed to be too drunk to aim properly) on the nose before brushing their injuries off as if it were nothing.

What an awful place. Wooyoung could only hope you weren’t here. Well, no, that was a blatant lie. He’d do anything to see you again.

After digging his knuckles into his eye sockets to wipe his weariness away, he blinked the colored spots away from his vision with a melancholic sigh. Gods, he was tired. Unfortunately, he had little time to lament, so he pushed himself onwards.

Wooyoung seemed to blend in just perfectly; he was thankful Yeosang decided to pack in a tattered cloak. The rest of the pirates didn’t seem to bat an eye. Standing in the middle of a throng of filthy seamen, it was hard for Wooyoung not to double over and retch. His roiling stomach didn’t aid his precarious state one bit.

Though everything seemed to be a cacophony of rowdy pirates and the clattering of illegal trade, Wooyoung picked up on a particular chunk of dialogue exchanged between a gaggle of men.

“Have you heard of the siren incident? Yeah, it happened near the Isles of Odralle! Can you believe? Ship was fuckin’ headed to the capital of Odralle, but they had a sudden change of plans; suddenly wanted to go to Aurecia. Cocky bastards think they can sell anything to anyone nowadays, yeah? Good thing the sirens took them. Wonder if they were tasty, though. Stupidity fouls the meat, my father used to say,” one of the pirates rambled as he slurped on his ale.

“Your father was a jackass,” another snorted, pounding on his chest with laughter. “What the fuck is a ‘siren incident’? I swear you lot gossip ten times more than me wife does.”

A third pirate shoved at his shoulder, a look of incredulity painting across his tanned features. “How have you not heard? A famous pirate ship - maybe one of the most famous ones in history - got lured into siren territory! The whole crew’s gone. Ship wreckage hasn’t been found. Nobody’s heard or seen them at all. My guess is that they made a calculation mistake and went off navigation charts once switching from Odralle to Aurecia. Then the sirens… got the best of ‘em.”

This elicited a gasp from the fourth in the group. “Wait! The big ship with the peg-leg captain with just one eye? Damn, just hearing stories about him gives me the creeps. Legend had it that he defeated not one, but two fuckin’ krakens during a storm! His ship flag is, er, the red and gold one… with a skull, right? And the skull’s laying in blood and swords?”

Wooyoung felt his blood run cold.

He knew that flag. The flag they were describing… was exactly the one he saw before they took you… before they threw him out for the sharks…

And before Wooyoung could even think it through, he found his body jerking forward, pushing past the bystanders and throwing himself into the gossip circle with all but a mangled growl escaping his throat. He yanked the last pirate to speak forward by the collar until the tanned man’s face was so close, his nose brushed against Wooyoung’s. The rest of the gang immediately quelled their incessant yammering, eyes growing wide in interest. Some placed their hands onto the hilts of their curved swords as a precaution, but they didn’t want to do anything hasty. After all, they loved a good fight.

“WHEN WAS THIS?” Wooyoung was glad his voice didn’t crack as he yelled, shaking the stricken pirate by the collar. “There was… there was a woman on that boat. She can’t be gone! She can’t be dead!”

They all looked at him as if he were crazy.

And after a second longer, Wooyoung’s grip loosened. It seemed he was a little rougher than first anticipated, because the fabric around the tanned pirate’s neck was crumpled and one of the pearly buttons came loose, dangling by a thin thread. He staggered backwards two steps, painfully sucking in lungfuls of rancid air.

Were you… were you gone? Was that it? Had you succumbed to the siren’s sweet song of death?

“Mate,” the tanned pirate spoke up with a lilt of sympathy in his tone. “There was never any woman on that ship. And besides, the ship hasn’t actually been found yet.”

The fire of hope that once burned brightly within the hearth of Wooyoung’s chest, was now but a dying ember. However, the man’s words gently blew on the warm ash until a new flame ignited. This was a different kind of hope. Who knows, maybe you had managed to escape the sirens. For all that was good on this planet, Wooyoung hoped you were still alive.

It was then that the most peculiar thing happened.

A man (if he could even be considered a man) - perhaps one of the ethereal beings he’s ever set his eyes upon - strode up to the circle of pirates, leveling his stormy gaze with Wooyoung. His hair was a shocking shade of pink, laying in loose strands across his forehead. A dirtied tunic hung over his shoulders in tatters, ripped and frayed in too many places to count. The belt that cinched around his waist was lopsided and unbuckled, dangling to the floor. The trousers he was wearing, a dusted shade of raven’s wing, was in the same state of disarray as his tunic. He was a mess, and Wooyoung could see a thick film of distraught glazing his eyes.

“My name is San,” he rasped. “And I was on that pirate ship.”

The marble was cold beneath your scraped knees. Your eyes studied the golden rivets decorating the pale white floor, splintering off into branches of aureate, though it was quite difficult to see through the bruises and unyielding blood obscuring your vision. If your hands weren’t bound behind your back, you would’ve at least tried to staunch the crimson seeping out of the fresh cut you sported across your temple. The guards had thrown kicks and punches everywhere they could reach until you had stopped struggling, every fibre of your being felt nothing but raw pain and the kind of anger that left you completely and utterly exhausted.

You just… you wanted it to all be over.

However, with the King and Queen sitting tall and proud just meters in front of you, you highly doubted things would be resolved at the snap of a finger. Beside their majesties sat the rest of the royal bloodline, dainty crowns of lustrous tawny and glinting silvers resting upon their regal heads.

They made you sick.

“I must say,” the Queen purred at last, placing her chin on her palm while gazing at you with a malevolent smile, irises of amethysts glinting in the cold light. “It’s impressive how you managed to escape the dungeons in your condition. Even got yourself a pretty little boat and everything.”

You could feel yourself blanching. How did she know about the pirate ship you left by the beaches?

“As I’m sure you’re aware by now, Y/N is only but a legend. Though nobody truly believes you’re real, you are still very much respected throughout the nation. And since you’re regarded so highly amongst the common folk,” the King rumbled, clasping his hands together with a smug leer tracing his lips. “You’ll be made a lowly servant for the lovely Princess, Amarelia.” He gestured further down the line, to a sweet young girl barely of age. The Princess was a frail thing, with skin of dove’s wings and lips of sweet peaches and lashes that kissed the apples of her cheeks. She somewhat resembled a fawn, what with her large eyes and innocently placant features. Her curled sienna locks were gathered into an elegant updo, showcasing the glimmering silver laces on her dainty neck.

The very ones that you tried to steal so long ago, and the entire reason you were even here. That necklace was what made you a well-known myth in Cerulea.

Anger broiled deep within you, but you kept your mouth clamped shut. There were guards ready to strike if you moved even a centimeter, and you decided to play it safe for now.

There was something you were practically dying to ask, though.

What did you do to Yunho?

“To welcome you into servitude,” the Queen surveyed you with hooded eyes. “Crawl to Amarelia and kiss her shoes. Thank us for not having you executed on the spot. Perhaps it shall give you an idea of your rank in this castle. You are nothing to us.”

“Mother!” The Princess gasped in protest with something akin to pity and horror melding into her soft complexion. It was clear that the sweet dove wanted nothing to do with this. In a way, you felt sorry for her as well.

Nobody paid her any mind.

With a heavy heart, you started shuffling towards the Princess. Pain and humiliation blossomed across your skin like flames crawling over oiled wood. A part of you considered standing your ground, lifting your head high, refusing to obey any of her commands. And you would’ve, truly. But… Yunho. If there was even the slightest chance he was alive and kept hostage because of you, you needed to remain on your best behavior. For his sake and even perhaps for your own.

Once in front of her, you dipped your head to quickly brush your lips against her fine cream flats, immediately straightening your spine with a grimace afterwards. Amarelia regarded you with a sympathetic look.

The guards stepped forward to roughly drag you back to your original spot. Your mind barely registered the cold sensation of metal clamping around your neck, the rattling of chains a ghostly echo in your ears. The Queen was grinning so widely it was a wonder her face didn’t split in half. It took everything you had in you not to spit onto the floor in defiance.

When they started tugging you towards the grand double doors, you realized that you couldn’t just sit around and allow them to throw you around like a ragdoll. You kicked out your feet in resistance, ignoring the cinching pain of the metal around your neck, boots thudding against the smooth marble surface. The guards swore under their breath, pulling you along ever harder.

“WHERE’S YUNHO?” Your hoarse voice ripped across the throne room. “DID YOU KILL HIM? DID YOU KILL YUNHO?! LET GO OF ME! YOU MURDERER!” The small quirk of the Queen’s perfect eyebrows had you spouting out obscenities, rage bubbling over your struggling form.

Double-doors swung open, and with that action brought the largest crowd you’ve ever seen in your life. There must’ve been thousands - no, hundreds of thousands of people out there. And they’ve all come for you. The myth and the legend. Y/N L/N.

It was all so sudden. You didn’t even remember how you got to the front of the highrise platform, being forced back onto your knees with a grunt. There were common folk and wealthy lords alike littered about the ocean of heads. Some looked to be terrified, others watching on with hanging lips of awe.

You swallowed heavily.

“Behold!” The King bellowed from somewhere behind you. There was a sneering lilt to his tone that made you want to spring upwards and knock his teeth out. “Your beloved Y/N!”

The crowd in front of you erupted into pandemonium. It was a strange and overwhelming cacophony of displeased boos and excited screams.

“A legend and a hero to some of you, I’m sure,” the Queen hummed, somehow instantaneously quieting the buzzing mass of people. “Now diminished to a mere servant. Y/N L/N is nothing, and acting like they are worth any bit more than scum will lead to treason. I’m truly sorry to disappoint some of you.”

She didn’t seem sorry at all. The crowd practically roared at that, most especially the commoners at the back, yelling curses until their throats were raw as they threw moldy apple cores at the guards.

You hung your head in shame, gaze trained to the wood slants of the stage. Hushed murmurs travelled about the rest of the crowd like waves gently crashing against shore. You were alone on this beach, it seemed.

Truly, utterly alone.

You must’ve had the worst luck in the world.

No matter how much you’ve fought, struggled, resisted, it always ended up the same. With you kept captive. That musty jail cell because of a damned necklace, then bound on the pirate ship to be sold off in Aurecia (a part of your heart sunk at the memory of the friendly fairy-pirate San jumping overboard)… and now a different cell, your wrists chained to the cobbled wall behind you. Your arms were sore yet numb, almost having lost any feeling in them, but that was the least of your concerns.

It was bright here, unlike your first cell. Back then it was always dark, and always cold. There was a crackling fire across the room, licking hungrily at the burning wood, casting amber phantoms across the expanse of your place of confinement. It wouldn’t be long until the fire died out and you’d be shivering once more. There was also a small window, but it was far away from your reach, and you wouldn’t even bother to try, considering your arms were laced above your head.

Being back in the castle had your mind racing. Everything had been so loud outside. But now that you were alone with only your own thoughts to accompany you, it almost felt suffocatingly quiet. The silence was deafening, roaring awful things into your ears.

You missed Wooyoung. What would he do in your position? You hoped he wasn’t here, truly. He deserved to be happy elsewhere. But you couldn’t deny that a small part of you wished he was back here with you.

Face it, he’s not coming to save you, the snarky voice in your head spat out. Nobody is. You’re on your own. You have to save yourself.

It was at that moment the door creaked open. A man with silver hair slid in, grimness splayed across his defined features, like the wiry shadows of tree branches marring the warm light of the room. You spotted the medical kit he clutched in his sure hands.

He was the royal healer. It somewhat surprised you that the King and Queen sent him. Perhaps it was Princess Amarelia’s doing; she seemed to have a pure enough heart. Her parents, on the other hand…

“Are you alright?” His voice was a soft thing, a mere whisper, almost lost to the loud snapping of the fireplace. Hesitance was evident in his tone, accompanied with stinging sympathy. “I apologize, that was a foolish question. Of course you’re not, that’s why I’m here. My name is Seonghwa, I’m the royal healer for this castle. May I?” He brandished a bottle of strange blue ointment and cotton patches. You had just been humiliated and degraded in front of thousands of people, and now a royal healer was apologizing to you? He was certainly giving you whiplash.

After pausing for the slightest of moments, you dipped your head just slightly, still waiting for something bad to happen.

“Sarcio essence,” Seonghwa murmured gently as he doused the patch with the blue liquid. “Ceruleans steal it from the elves of Nymaeden. Its healing abilities are unlike anything we’ve ever seen. Ever since magic, of course. But that’s a thing of the past now. Magic is illegal in Cerulea. Not sure if you heard while you were down there in your cell.”

That made a frown flicker across your face. Cerulea, the ever-perfect country, needing to steal things from other kingdoms?

And with another stout nod, Seonghwa leaned forward to swipe at your fresh wounds and bruises, cleaning away the dried blood with nimble movements. It stung at first, restrained hisses escaping your lips as you squeezed your eyes shut. It felt like your skin was burning, and everything was on fire and the silent monsters were screaming your name.

“It’s a good thing if it stings a little. That’s your body working to put itself together.”

It was silent for a long time. You had to clamp your teeth down on your bottom lip so as to not let him hear your pathetic winces of pain.

The healer seemed to notice this, brows furrowing. “You don’t have to try to be strong around me, Y/N. You’re hurting, and it’s okay to show that. I won’t think any less of you.”

You eyed him with somewhat of a dubious aura, before bobbing your head for the last time. “Thank you,” you muttered brokenly.

Seonghwa hummed softly in response, screwing the cap back onto the sarcio essence.

The familiar creak of the door swinging open floated across the rooms, and you snapped your head upwards. Even the healer appeared to be surprised, bowing his head low at the newcomers. Also known as, if you had to put it eloquently, the true and utter banes of your existence. If you were the single flickering candle, they would be the tornados constantly whispering your flame good night.

It was the King and the Queen, draped in a waterfall of golden lace, diaphanous silver silks, and striking tones of mauve matching the hue of their angry irises. They held their heads high, looking at you as if you were the shit stuck on the bottom of their fine shoes.

“Leave us,” the Queen commanded Seonghwa without even glancing in the direction of the medic. She kept her gaze trained on you, and only you. Silently, he left the room with not another word, shuffling out of the door, unable to spare you one last sympathetic glimpse.

After surveying you, the Queen graced you with what seemed to be a smirk, and beckoned towards the guards behind her.

“Bring him in,” she said, practically dripping with delighted malice.

What happened next had you choking on your own gasps, tears immediately rimming your eyes like frost sitting atop tree branches on a harsh wintry morning. It had your stomach curling into itself, nausea climbing up your throat, begging to escape. A scream, so disgustingly raw and broken that it didn’t sound like your own voice echoed throughout the room.

They threw a peach-haired man in front of you, and he crumpled to the ground as if he were nothing more than a stringless puppet. If you thought that you were hurt, it was absolutely nothing in comparison to the sweet baker that you were so very fond of. He looked to be half dead already, bruises mapping the expanse of his pallid skin as abundant as there were stars in the sky. His once-bright pink strands of hair now looked a sullen grey, as if all the life had been seeped out of him. Dried blood crusted his cuts and gashes, littered all over his shivering form. You swore, with every fiber of your being, you were going to kill whoever hurt him.

“YUNHO!” You cried, heart lodged in your throat. The soft giant who had once been so boisterous, laid unmoving on the cobblestone floor. Kicking against the wall, you yanked away at your manacles fruitlessly until your wrists grew raw, wanting nothing more than to fall to your knees and crawl to him and ask if he was alright. It didn’t matter that you were hurting yourself in the process, you just… you wanted to get out of these chains, out of here, away from everything.

How dare they?

Tears were rolling down the apples of your cheeks, conjoining at your jaw and dripping mercilessly onto the ground. A constant drip, drip, drip of your pain made loud and clear to everybody else in the room.

You were so furious, so heartbroken, that you had forgotten anybody else existed for a short second. It was a shame that you were only reminded when one of the guards stalked up with the King’s nod of approval, gripping Yunho by his faded locks and yanking him upwards. His face didn’t seem to even flinch, numb and desensitized.

Was Yunho gone? No… no, he couldn’t possibly be…

A confusing concoction of sobs and desperate pleas and hiccups tumbled past your lips far too quickly for even you to understand yourself

The events that transpired rushed by in an indecipherable blur. You could barely pick up what the Queen murmured.

“This beloved baker friend of yours…” she cocked her head to the side in mock-thought, purple eyes flashing dangerously. “He is strong, I’ll give you that. However, he seems quite adamant not to give us any information about the other prisoner, Wooyoung. They were childhood best friends, no? I’m sure you remember him, don’t you?”

Your heart stopped at the sound of his name.

How dare you? How dare you? How dare you? The mantra reverberated in your skull until it was all you could think, staining your mind with an inky, poisonous black.

The mocking sympathy evident in her tone had you thrashing against your bonds all the more. “And alas… I’m afraid we no longer have any use for him.”

Just like that, the guard holding Yunho upwards drove his longsword clean through the gentle baker’s abdomen, dropping him to the floor. An ungodly wail tore from your vocal chords, resonating across the room and painting wicked smiles across the two royal leaders of Cerulea. Much to your horror, Yunho uttered no sound, merely dropping onto the stone with a thud. Crimson pooled at his wound so quickly, that the rose-hued ichor grazed against your feet in a matter of seconds. You stopped struggling, the drumming of your heart loud in your ears.

Since your gaze hadn’t left Yunho’s unmoving body, you didn’t even noticed the Queen sidestepping the puddle of blood, forcing your eyes away by gripping your slick face with one of her cold hands. You tried to pull your cheeks away, but it was as if her fingers were steel. Her purple eyes were so close to yours, you could see the flecks of aureate gold embedded within the enticing lilac. The Queen flashed you a charming smile, as if she hadn’t just murdered your friend in cold blood. It seemed she noticed your pounding heart rate, because she murmured an incantation in old Cerulean that you couldn’t quite pick up. In an instant, you could feel yourself relaxing in her grip, wrists going slack in the cuffs, the muscle in your chest thumping slower and slower. A part of you was afraid it would grind to a stop.

Her pearly whites flashed as she grinned evilly. The lavender in her eyes darkened drastically, to the point where any trace of gold disappeared completely.

“We didn’t kill Yunho,” she leaned closer and whispered into your ear, her tawny locks tickling the side of your face. “Killing is barbaric.”

There was an old story of a gingerbread man and a fox crossing a river you often heard retellings of during your childhood. The fox swore up and down that he wouldn’t eat the gingerbread man whilst helping him cross the river. As suspicious as the gingerbread man was at first, he eventually climbed onto the sly fox’s back, naive with hope. The fox arrived at the other side of the river alone and with a full stomach.

It seemed you were the foolish gingerbread man and the Queen was the fox. The Queen’s magic seeped into your being, clouding your mind in a dangerous haze you could no longer fight.

You believed her.

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