#it and my middle and last name are all variations on the word 'man' which is very funny. apologies for being born i guess

[segernatural]

#ultimately my name is a dad joke. deadass. #it and my middle and last name are all variations on the word 'man' which is very funny. apologies for being born i guess #char speaks

[whispereons]

Oracle!Reader Part 2

Masterlist - Part 1, Part 3

The waves hit the boat gently as you wait for the sound of people to get quieter. Once the cawing of birds is the most prominent sound, you jump out of the boat onto the shore. You walk up Amakane Island and keep your head low as you pass by stalls and people.

You get to mask stall which is thankfully empty at the moment. A jagged fox mask with the lower half missing and gold accents catches your eye. You put it on right as the vendor comes back to the stall.

You smile excitedly at the two men feeling more confident with your identity hidden. The mask showing the bottom half of your face is a necessary sacrifice. Body language is a double-edged sword for lying that you've learned to wield expertly.

"Hello, are you the vendor for these masks? I really like this gold one, I couldn't resist trying it on. How much is it?"

The vendor sees the mask you're wearing and laughs nervously.

"Hello dear customer but I'm afraid it broke when two other customers were fighting over it. You could come back tomorrow, and I could give you a mask with that same color or you could pick a different mask now."

You skirt around the offer and distract him with more questions. It's not like you have any mora to pay with. Your tone is sympathetic and sweet.

"I'm sorry to hear that happened. If you don't mind, I would like to know why they were fighting over it."

"Well as everyone knows, gold is heavily associated with the creator and that happened to be the last mask. The Yashiro guard that usually stands guard is escorting them to the prison."

"Oh, I see. Actually, do you mind answering some of my questions? You see I'm a traveler and I like to listen to stories about the creator. Each region has their own variations about the creator so I'm curious about Inazuma's!"

Your smile is bright, and the man seems to perk up at your words. He begins explaining about acolytes, praying times, the creator's image and even more.

Simply put the playable characters are acolytes and it's a high honor if they have been awakened. Which is a fancy word for saying that you pulled and won them.

No one knows the creators real name meaning you can still live on as Y/N. They believe that after creating the world you were now resting inside a different world. That now that you were awakening acolytes, you would be arriving soon.

It's when he mentions sacrificing that you feel dread pool inside you. This is a cult; you have a fucking cult. Ironic how Ei almost sacrificed you to yourself.

After getting all the information you needed from the man, you walk away. Still wearing the mask without paying for it. The vendor will probably realize in a little while, but you would be long gone by then.

You look back at your boat wondering how you could get rid of it. Ei saw it meaning that she'll be able to recognize it as long as you have it nearby.

You look at Byakko Plain where a teleport waypoint should be. If you could get to it, activate it then your plan of discarding the boat should work.

As you walk across the sand and soft waves from Amakane to Byakko you see 3 treasure hoarders and a nobushi. Right in the middle and right in your way.

Could you outrun them? Probably not. Fight them and win? Maybe the treasure hoarders but that nobushi is dangerous. Your only choice is to retreat and have one of your acolytes defeat them. It felt weird referring them like that but this whole thing is bizarre.

Just as you turn around, you hear them yell. The nobushi pulls out his sword, a treasure hoarder takes out throwing knives, another a crossbow, and the third uses a paddle.

You have no choice but to fight. Gritting your teeth, you skid across the sand to avoid getting hit by the knives and arrows. The nobushi sprints and slashes his sword to hit you at the same time the paddle treasure hoarder rushes after you.

You jump away just in time to see them hit each other instead of you. The sword stabs the paddle guy right in the stomach and the two other treasure hoarders freeze at the sight. The nobushi pulls the sword out unfazed.

The two treasure hoarders watch in horror as paddle guy coughs up blood and falls to the ground.

"What the hell man?! Why would you stab him like that?!" The treasure hoarders start yelling and aiming at the nobushi. The nobushi glares at them and starts walking toward them. The blood on his blade glints in the sunlight and you try not to think about the blood that is splattered on your shirt.

Using the argument between the nobushi and treasure hoarders, you pick up the paddle. The nobushi will probably kill both treasure hoarders and attack you again.

It's better to take out the nobushi and fight the treasure hoarders then run away. As you sneak up behind the nobushi, the treasure hoarders see you and stay silent.

The nobushi prepares to swing and cut down the treasure hoarders. It exposes the back of his neck, and you swing the paddle hard. Your hit lands and the paddle breaks from the force.

The nobushi falls to the ground leaving you exposed as you pant from the strength needed for the blow to be effective. The treasure hoarders stare at you in some shock as they tremble from their life so close to being over.

"So, uh truce?" You offer as you stand up straight. They look at their weapons and look back at you. Their hesitance unnerves you and you drop the broken paddle remains. They get a dangerous glint in their eyes now that you're unarmed.

You smile and pick up the nobushi's sword in a flash. Pointing it at them, you spoke with a drawl.

"Which do you think is faster? Your shitty aiming knives and arrows? Or this sword that's almost as tall as you?"

You touched the teleport waypoint as you watched the treasure hoarders run away. That sword was heavy as hell and only the adrenaline coursing through you in that moment gave you the strength to lift it so easily.

You held a small bag of mora, an old handguard, and 3 treasure hoarder insignia. You opened the bag that you got from the house you woke up in. You put it all in and close the bag. You didn't expect that enemy drops would still exist. The blood on the materials stained your hand and left you a chill.

Watching the teleport become gold you open the screen and open the map. You click on the first teleport waypoint you opened on Kannazuka. The same one where Ei found you.

There were two options, both had the words 'teleport waypoint' but one was gold. You pressed the gold option, and your vision went white.

Pressing your hands to your eyes, you open them slowly. It actually worked. You teleported to Kannazuka island. In a daze you walk to the waverider and summon the boat. You open the screen and teleport back to Byakko Plain.

Your eyes close automatically as you teleport. When you open them again at Byakko Plain, you look to see the boat gone. Pushing down the relief at it working, you try to remember what you needed to do next.

The cold wet feeling of blood on your clothes was creeping you out. Plus your clothes were so unique that Ei could definitly recognize you from it.

You pace the path as you think. The small amount of mora you put in your bag was all you had. But how much could a shirt, pants, and shoes cost? A potato was like 100 mora so the price should be around 4,500 mora. And even that's the least amount it can cost.

You open your bag to check the mora and instead of seeing inside the bag, a screen is there. It's the same screen you see when you open your bag in Genshin.

Well at least you won't have to worry about weight or food expiring. But unlike the bag you have in Genshin, this one is nearly completely empty. So, it's not connected to the bag you have in your account.

You look to the bottom and see 108 mora. You select the insignia and handguard. You try to trash them to see if you can get any mora from that. The game warns you nothing can be recovered, and you cancel the trashing.

Maybe you should just steal? It's your only option at this point. No one would be willing to accept help from a bloody masked stranger, nor will they accept 108 mora as a down payment. You really wanted to avoid stealing more than this mask. Clothes take a long time to make considering how the technology here isn't as advanced.

You trip over something small and pointy almost falling face first into the ground. You catch yourself and look to see that it's.

"Ushi?"

The cow moos at you and before mooing at a group of people running towards you.

"BEEFCAKE!"

Itto runs and picks Ushi up in a twirl nearly smacking you in the process. Kuki and his boys catch up as they breathe heavily. The only thing you can think as you watch Itto baby Ushi is.

'Dear god the game did not do him justice.'

Itto is huge, as tall as the nobushi you fought, and his muscles are nowhere near as flat as his game model.

"Boss, be more careful! You nearly hit them when you threw Ushi!"

Kuki scolds Itto as she points at you. Itto stops and looks at you in surprise seeming to finally notice your existence. Putting Ushi down Itto ruffles your hair and laughs.

"You mean this kid? C'mon if Ushi didn't nearly hit them, something else would."

"Sorry about him, he'll call anyone shorter than him 'kid'."

"It's fine, the bull, uh Ushi, you called him? Didn't hit me."

"Either way sorry about that compadre, but it's a good thing it didn't hit you. As an acolyte if he did hit you, you would probably be six feet under."

As gruesome as Itto's words sound, his actions are the opposite. He has an arm slung around your shoulders and a bright smile. Kuki who is usually more composed seems to be smiling judging by the crinkle at the edge of her eyes.

"Wow, you're an acolyte? Makes sense, a lot of vision users are. My name is Y/N, what are yours?"

Itto perks up at that and releases you. He stands in front of his gang facing you. The sun makes his red horns glint as he spreads his arms animatedly.

"I'm Arataki 'The One and Oni' Itto! I have many names but for time's sake I'll skip them this time to introduce you to the Arataki Gang."

He points to each of his members as he introduces them. "This is Shinobu Kuki, my deputy. She has a permit for everything - literally everything and is also an acolyte. Ushi is the auxiliary member; I call him Beefcake. Akira, Genta, and Mamoru are my boys and have been some of the longest standing members of the gang."

"You mean the only other gang members."

Shinobu corrects him. Spinning around to face her Itto shushes her a comically number of times. Not very quietly he whispers to her.

"Hey, hey don't ruin it for me. A new person is the best to get to join the gang."

Those words make you perk up as you watch Itto continue whisper-yelling at Shinobu. Honestly you wouldn't mind living as a member of the Arataki gang. It's not a criminal gang like the one you were in, in your old world. In fact, it would be even more fun than a normal job.

But there's no way you were staying in Inazuma with Ei hunting you down. You need to steer the conversation away from this into something more productive.

"Sorry if this is rude to say but are your horns real? This is my first time in Inazuma, so I've never seen anything like it before."

Itto abandons Shinobu's side to stand in front of you and comb his hair back with a proud grin.

"Indeed, they are real. Guess you didn't realize my clever wording in my title as the 'One and Oni' Itto. I'm a red oni and the best one there is!"

"That's why you have those red markings right? Plus, your clothing and accessories have all those horns too. So cool!"

Your voice heightens in a way that is similar to a fan. His reaction is just what you wanted. With a smile he juts out his thumb at himself as Shinobu shakes her head.

"Glad to see you recognize my awesomeness! Go ahead and praise me some more!"

"Don't encourage him anymore or else we'll be here for hours."

"Relax Shinobu, an amazing oni like me wouldn't let them stay out here for so long. C'mon Y/N we'll lead you to the city!"

Rubbing the back of your neck, you look down as you sheepishly admit.

"I don't think I can go in with clothes like these. Some treasure hoarders and a nobushi attacked me on my way to the city. So now my clothes are all cut up and dirty."

"What?! That's horrible, I swear if I see them, I'll-"

"Calm down boss, let's get them a change of clothes and then you can go after them."

Shinobu also seems a bit pissed at your story, interesting.

"We should have a spare uniform with the other materials, right? We can get the clothes along with the materials."

"But what if they got hurt? We can't have them walking like this! Akira, Genta, Mamoru! I'm gonna need you three to get the supplies and the old uniform. Shinobu and I will keep our new friend Y/N company in case anyone else tries attacking them."

You inwardly sigh in relief at not having to walk. Your heels still hurt from the electricity.

The boys hesitate as they give you a glance. Unlike Shinobu and Itto who seem to have an instant liking to you, the boys are unsure. Shinobu tries to explain to them.

"I know boss gets scammed nearly every time something like this happens, but I have a good feeling about Y/N. It's like I've meet them before, almost like an old friend."

The boys nod and leave feeling more assured with Shinobu on your side. Itto pats her back with a grin.

"You explained it almost as well as I would have."

"But maybe you should have gone with them. It'll be difficult to carry all those materials by themselves."

"Ah, have more faith Shinobu. They'll be fine. The shrine will look great."

This talk of materials and a shrine give you an inkling of what they're doing but you question them to be sure.

"By shrine, do you mean you're making a shrine for the creator?"

"That's right! It's almost the anniversary of the creator awakening the traveler, so we wanted to do something special. But it'll take some time for the boys to get back with the stuff. Why don't we have some fun in the meantime?"

That smile on Itto's face turns competitive as he stares down at you. It's infectious and before you know it, you have the same grin.

"What game are you suggesting? It would be fun to try an Inazuma game. You'll probably need the extra help of it being familiar too."

"Oh hoho! Shorty's got jokes! I'll take you on in any game. But since you want something Inazuma style then beetle fighting is the obviously best choice!"

Shinobu sighs affectionately as she watches Itto explain how beetle fighting works to you. She can't help but feel drawn to you and Itto feels the same way.

You find a huge purple reddish beetle and carefully carry it to the stage Itto set up.

"That's a good one Y/n, seems like the beetle likes you."

Shinobu comments as you bring it into view. The beetle moves in your hands as docile as a lamb and you pet the hard shell.

"That's great to know. Hope you won't be too mad when I beat Itto's ass."

"As if, just be prepared for him to challenge you to a 100 more matches."

"He wouldn't actually do that right?"

Shinobu adjusts her mask as she stays silent.

"Right???"

She only laughs as Itto bounds up to you both holding a good-sized purple beetle.

"I can tell this little guy has a beetle fighting spirit like no other! Be prepared to lose Y/N!"

With both beetles on the stage, the fight begins. Or that's what you would think if Itto's beetle wasn't immediately defeated.

You give your beetle a nice pat for a job well done as Itto picks up his beetle shocked.

"Alright, I lost that time, but this next round will be different. He just got stage fright is all."

Another round goes and you win again. Itto challenges you again and surprise, surprise you win again. This loop goes on and on until the boys arrive with the clothes and materials.

You cheer tiredly as Itto finally stops challenging you to help his gang with building the shrine. You pick up your tired beetle and hold him close to you as you watch them begin building.

Itto's beetle pinches your leg lightly to get your attention. You smile at the purple beetle and hold him too. Now out of battle the two beetles are friendly with each other.

"Never again Shinobu, that was at least 35 rounds."

"37 actually but hey, who's counting?"

You chuckle at her words and watch as she takes the uniform from the boys. She walks back and hands you the clothes.

"There's a small stall right on the outskirts of Inazuma City. You can change there."

You look at where she's pointing and thank her before going to it. You enter it and take off the mask. After changing clothes, you look at yourself in the mirror.

The outfit itself was Inazuma style with near unnoticeable patches. You never imagined you would be wearing clothes like this in Teyvat. Putting on the mask and looking back into the mirror, you feel more like a part of this world.

Was it because without it you would be hunted? Were you just able to disassociate better with it on? Or were you truly so isolated from the person you wished to be, that living with a mask and an altered identity was more comfortable?

You shake off those thoughts and leave the stall. You get back to where the Arataki gang is building the shrine. Your shrine. And sit beside Shinobu who is supervising to make sure they don't accidentally kill themselves.

You casually chat with Shinobu slowly bringing the conversation to the topic you want. You finally get to say the sentence that will serve as information bait.

"Actually, I'm trying to find a boat to Liyue. I want to keep exploring."

As much as you would love to stay in Inazuma a while longer to look around, Ei isn't the only one you were worried about. Yae, Heizou, and Ayato were all threats in their own right.

They're all good at sniffing out lies and mysteries. And you happen to be the biggest one, especially with this mask.

But Shinobu never got to reply to your comment as Sara approaches you all. Her stare is intimidating as she glares at Itto. Her voice has that same crisp professionalism that you remember her for.

"What is it that you all are doing here? The residents are complaining that your noise is distracting from their daily activities."

Itto gives an annoyed huff and stands up to face her.

"Me and the gang are building a shrine, thank you very much. I never do anything to attract more trouble, seriously what do you take me for? Like obviously I am the trouble, duh."

The way Sara examines the half-built shrine is similar to a stranger looking at a little kid's art piece.

"At least you're doing something productive for once. Despite that, you still need a permit to build one."

Shinobu sighs and stands up. Sara examines the permit from Shinobu before handing it back to her. Just as Sara was about to leave, she finally notices you.

"And who is this? You didn't drag them into your shenanigans, did you?"

The accusatory tone in her voice directed towards Itto made you smile but Itto's sputtered defense was what made you laugh. Sara watches you before approaching you.

"What is your name? I don't think I recognize you as a local or as a frequent traveler. I'm Kujou Sara, general of the Tenryou Commission."

"It's nice to meet you Sara, I'm Y/N. This is my first-time visiting Inazuma."

You smile innocently at her knowing how strict she was at her job. She went silent before saying.

"Your hair, your jaw shape even your smile is so similar to the creator."

Your heart drops when you hear that. Shinobu and Itto look at you too, they can see the resemblance. But your smile stays on your face with ease.

"I've heard that before but thank you for the compliment. Being similar in those features is a blessing."

Your tone is wistful like a shy admirer. Sara's suspicions seem to ease but she becomes curious instead.

"Where are you originally from? How often are you compared to the creator? Were you born with those similar features or did your face naturally change into it?"

With each question Sara gets closer and closer. Her tone has a rare curiosity and just a hint of reverence. It was a good decision to be wary of the cult and all the acolytes. It seems like most of them would react the same way Ei did if they saw your face.

"Your presence. If I'm not wrong, it feels exactly like how the creator would control us."

Her tone becomes cold and as you had no time to answer any of her questions, the suspicion has tripled.

You jump back as lightning flashes right where she was as she retreats a step. She stares at you waiting for your answer. Shinobu and Itto seem to fade in the background as you stare at Sara.

They all want answers. Answers that you don't have. The truth will only be seen as a lie and what lie could you possibly tell them that-

Oh.

That could work. Yes, it can definitely work.

You sigh and turn your head to the side while lowering it a little.

"I was hoping to keep quiet about this longer until I was sure of it but if you insist then I should tell you all the truth. Especially Itto and Shinobu since they've helped me out a lot."

You spin a story on how you woke up with little to no memories at a little shrine near Ritou. You rest your cheek on your hand as you recall how you heard the most beautiful voice state that you were now the creator's oracle. How you were told that you were not going to be controlled but be a way for everyone to communicate almost directly with the creator.

As you finish, they all stare at you with in slight suspicion but no hostility. You smile to yourself as you realize that they are willing to believe. That they could be convinced of your lie.

You play with your hands as you solemnly tell them that you understand that they may not believe you. That the creator even warned you of this being the most likely possibility.

Your smile is gentle, and your voice is a little hopeful as you explain that by communicating with the creator you could prove your status as an oracle.

"Prove it. Show us that you are truly the chosen oracle of the creator."

Sara says firmly.

"I want to believe you Y/N and I hate agreeing with Kujou chicken but I'm serious about the creator. I'll need to see this proof too or else I'll having to actually knock you with Beefcake as revenge for lying by using the creator. I speak for Shinobu and the gang."

You can see Shinobu roll her eyes at Itto's theatrics, but she doesn't interrupt. You smile and nod your head.

"Of course! Using the creator like that is blasphemous. I just need a small shrine to pray in private. If anybody sees or interrupts me, it could make the process go wrong."

Sara accepts that and leads you to a small temple in the middle of Byakko Plain. Which most definitely did not exist when you were still just a player.

You walk inside and stare at the murals that decorate the walls. It's you, undoubtedly so. Some are beautiful, while others are hauntingly sad. You can't help but let your eyes linger on the mural of you embracing a crying Thunderbird that was slowly becoming a Thunder Manifestation.

Probably Kapatcir, the Thunderbird that bonded with Ruu on Tsurumi Island. You never bothered to really memorize this kind of stuff but perhaps being the creator has made you automatically recall everything.

Sara leads you deeper into the temple until you stop at a alter. The altar itself is beautiful. A cobblestone base with Sakura, Amur Maple, and even some Otogi wood used to make the structure of it.

It reaches almost as high as the ceil and the trees wind around a statue of yourself. The statue depicts you with a peaceful expression and clasp hands.

You try to ignore the blood stains that cover the base of your statue. You go into a kneeling position and clasp your hands. Sara leaves the temple and it's only when the light from the door is gone that you relax.

The candles around your altar keep the temple bright and you open the screen.

You already know from experience that simply telling them private information will just lead you to be more suspicious. Instead, you switch out their weapons. From fully leveled weapons to dull blades, you close the screen.

You leave the temple and head back to where the gang and Sara is waiting. You hear the sounds of Itto trying (and failing) to challenge Sara to a rematch as you get into view.

Shinobu sees you first.

"Y/N! Did you finish praying?"

You nod with a gentle smile.

"I did and they answered my prayer. As we know, the creator can really only affect the acolytes so please take out your weapons."

"Gladly, I mean their grace gave me a wonderful fully upgraded Whiteblind that makes me even more powerful than I already am!"

Itto summons his weapon and holds it over his shoulder in a pose. Yet in his hands is a level 1, one star, Waster Greatsword. Shinobu sighs and breaks it to him.

"Boss look at your weapon."

"What? Why would I? It's fine, the creator gave me it before they even- Oh my archon, this isn't my claymore!"

As Shinobu and Itto squabble, Sara looks at the Hunter's bow that she now has. It's so unlike the Sacrificial bow that she normally wields. She feels weak with it, like the creator deemed her unworthy of their gifts.

Looking back up at you, she speaks with a small sadness that doesn't go unnoticed by you.

"It seems you are telling the truth. I apologize for doubting you. There has never been anything on an oracle appearing, so I was suspicious. Could you please pray and ask-"

"Y/N! You have to speak with the creator again! There's no way I can wield this hunk of junk. Not when I know that my great Whiteblind that was given to me by the creator is somewhere out there."

Itto shamelessly cuts Sara off. You laugh and reassure them.

"Don't worry, I'll pray and ask them to change it back. It was only temporary after all."

You leave quickly to the temple and change the weapons back. Shinobu didn't bother taking out her sword, but you still gave her, her correct one back.

You get back in time to hear Sara announce her departure to see Ei.

"I must report this to the Almighty Shogun. The existence of an oracle could mean a great deal of things. Including the chance that the Almighty Shogun can inquire the creator through you as to why she has not been awakened yet."

You didn't pull for her before and you certainly won't after how she chased you. Ei could even take you awakening her as a sign of approval of hunting you.

And there's no way you can let Sara tell Ei about your existence yet either. You would be seen as suspicious due to being found on the same day the 'imposter' was found. You needed a firm reputation as the oracle before you could ever meet Ei again.

"And I have to stop you from doing that. You see there's a reason the creator wants to keep my oracle status quiet. The creator wishes to not only see the world but all the acolytes naturally. Lumine is a famous traveler, people naturally act differently around her. But I'm not well known so everyone's true or normal attitudes are revealed to me. They want to see them as their truest self and warning the Electro Archon beforehand will go against the creators wishes."

Yes, it contradicts how you want people to be aware of you being an oracle, but it's works better than you would expect. Sara is too devoted to go against the creators wishes so she'll stay quiet. Shinobu is trustworthy and will keep quiet to please the creator.

But Itto and the gang? They'll either boast or let it slip easily. Anything that is told to stay quiet or secret almost always gets spread even faster. And since no one would dare speak to Ei casually nor will she actively look for information, Ei will still be oblivious. Only Yae could possibly let Ei know and you plan to be gone by then.

Sara keeps her head down as she speaks.

"Our truest self? Truly, the creator thinks far ahead than anyone else. Can I ask you a favor? How does the creator view me? I treated you with suspicion when you were only doing the creators will. Is that my truest self?"

You reach out your hands and grasp both of hers. She seems so sad and resigned that you can't stop yourself from using your title to speak plainly.

"Sara, the creator has seen you and your truest self is not what you believe. They see just how devoted you are to the Electro Archon and to them. The way you take your job seriously to protect the people of Inazuma, how you do your upmost to preserve their will. They wish that you would grow more when it comes to your emotional state, but they love seeing you take pride in your work. There is nothing to fear."

The way you tilt your head makes it obvious that you're staring directly into her eyes. Your skin, your hold on her hands, that piercing but warm gaze. Your features so similar to the creator. It's like she's looking at the creator in the flesh.

"Your grace..."

Sara whispers before jumping back as you're pulled away from her.

"Hey! Stop hogging Y/N! Weren't you going back to your boring workplace? If you're gonna stay any longer than you should just agree to my rematch."

Itto is holding you by the back of your shirt lifting you above the ground as he glares at Sara. You wanted to laugh at his clear jealousy.

Sara grits her teeth in annoyance.

"I was just conversing with Y/N, but I will be on my way now."

With that Sara leaves with Itto putting you back down as he stomps his foot like a kid.

"That stupid chicken, why did you hold her hand? You could have just held mine, I'm way stronger!"

"Didn't she beat you in a fight?"

"Well yeah, I admit that, but she always refuses a rematch! She's too chicken to accept it because she knows she'll lose!"

"Boss the shrine is done!" "Let's go get the offerings now." "Maybe some candles, candy, and lavender melon."

You struggle not to fall as Itto drapes his whole arm on you. He turns to his boys with a grin as Shinobu helps you escape his grip.

"Good work boys, we'll get the best stuff."

You walk with the Arataki gang as they gather stuff to offer. Sometimes they ask you which one is better to offer since you can communicate with the creator. It's not like anyone will believe that you, a scrappy lying human is their beloved creator.

You smile and shamelessly pick anything you like. You were the creator after all, this totally wasn't self-serving in the slightest.

Taking it back they light the candles and offer the gifts. There's a rare moment of silence as you all pray to the shrine. Well at least they were, you were too busy trying not to fall asleep from such a busy day.

It's only when you are eating roasted lavender melon with them all that Shinobu speaks on topic you needed.

"I almost forgot, Y/N, you planned to leave Inazuma right?"

"What!? You're leaving already? Why?"

Itto's whiny dramatic voice made you smile.

"I'm not leaving yet; I don't have any transportation. I'm following the creators will. As the oracle it's my duty to spread the creator's thoughts and feelings. It's my honor to be one of the bridges between the creator and Teyvat. While Lumine is used to let acolyte be awakened, I am used to communicate."

Itto groans before sighing.

"Fine fine, I understand. You know what? I'm such a great oni that I'll even bring you to meet a guy that can help you. Pretty kind of me, right?"

Perfect, a possible transportation to escape Ei.

"That does sound great! I would love to meet them."

You can basically see Itto's ego grow with every word you say. Before Shinobu can say or do anything Itto lifts you up onto his shoulder. His hand holds you steady as he laughs at your panic.

"Then what are we waiting for? Feel free to admire my greatness as we go to see my guy."

Shinobu waves sympathetically as Itto hauls you towards Inazuma City. He asks you loads of questions about the creator and how they view him.

"Do they think I'm great? Am I their favorite? Of course, I'm their favorite, I am Arataki 'Numero Uno' Itto after all. Just look at me."

"They think it's funny how you always find a way to accidentally consume bean products."

"Oh god no, don't even mention beans. I can't believe they saw me in such a weak moment."

"They also wanted to whack every human who threw beans at you with a beehive to see how they like being allergic."

"You're not lying about that right? Cause that's the best news I've ever heard in my whole life!"

It's fun, the whole walk with Itto was fun. It's even better than you imagined being in Genshin would be like. You wanted to continue living like this. But the looming threat of Ei hanging over your shoulder seemed to stain your mood.

Your hand brushed against your mask. It's a reminder that you probably can't ever live your life here without it. It's still a cult that may attack you at any time.

With that grim reminder, dread pools in your gut as Itto leads you closer to Thoma.

Oh god, oh fuck if it's Thoma then it's Ayaka and if it's both its Ayato. And Ayato could definitely figure you out. Maybe you'll be fine, not everyone that meets Thoma will eventually meet Ayato.

"Thoma! My bro, my guy, my dude. This is Y/N, and they need your help getting a boat to Liyue. They're a super sick oracle for the creator and got a big mission to follow the creators will."

Shit. That one little word is repeated in your mind as Itto keeps talking. You were right about how saying 'it's a secret' makes things spread faster but you didn't want it to happen while you were still here! Thoma has a smile frozen on his face as he listens.

"I'm sorry they're the creator's oracle? I really mean no offense, but this is quite hard to believe."

Thoma smiles sheepishly while Itto pushes you in front of him to face Thoma. There's no point in trying to remind Itto to keep your identity on the down low. Holding out your hand you speak cheerfully to Thoma.

"Yeah, you aren't the first acolyte to not believe me. It's understandable since I'm the first."

Thoma shakes your hand, it's a little hot but not burning. It seems visions really do affect their bodies.

"How did you know I'm an acolyte? I'm just a simple housekeeper for the Kamisato Clan."

"Like Itto said, I'm an oracle. The creator grants me knowledge needed to meet and communicate with everyone."

"Well, I'm sorry Y/N but there's no way I can help you with your identity as an oracle so, sorry to say, suspicious."

It makes sense, Thoma while being a nice guy is loyal to Ayato and Ayaka first and foremost. It's one of his key defining traits and that also means he's loyal to the creator too. Itto tries to convince him by retelling how you switched the weapons, but Thoma doesn't believe it.

"Okay if I tell you information that only very few people know that can prove that I'm truly an oracle, will you help me find a boat?"

"Alright but I have very high expectations. I refuse to help someone that might be using the creators title to trick people."

"To the public knowledge, Lord Kamisato was awakened and then you were awakened. But that isn't the truth. That was a switcheroo Lord Kamisato made to avoid enemies using the truth against the Kamisato Clan. You were awakened long before Lord Kamisato but had to stay quiet about it per his instructions."

Thoma looked at you with slight suspicion. Only Ayato, Ayaka, and Thoma knew about this, yet you a stranger did. But he just couldn't shake off the nostalgic feeling you gave him.

"That's honestly really shady but I can't deny that you're impressive. The only people that know about this would never say anything unless they really trust you."

He smiled kindly like you always seen him do in the game.

"I'll honor our agreement and help you find a boat."

Itto cheered at Thoma's agreement and waved goodbye as you and Thoma left. The gang caught up and started walking to God knows where as you and Thoma walked through Byakko Plains.

"An oracle huh? That does explain why the feeling of being awakened seems to surround you."

The grass swayed as the moon rose higher in the sky.

"All you acolytes tell me that. I can't feel it myself, but it sounds amazing."

"It is, like being embraced by the creator themself. Do you truly not remember much about yourself or your life before becoming an oracle?"

The butterflies dance with the fireflies as the sound of hilichurls dancing can be heard faintly.

"Other than my name, my bag and the clothes on my back, I truly had nothing. My only knowledge of Teyvat is the one the creator shows me through dreams, visions, and stories."

"This must feel like a whole new world to you then. But you're adapting quite well. Would it be presumptuous to ask what the creator thinks of me?"

The path splits to two at Konda Village and Thoma leads you to the right. Nerves prick at you as remember that Ritou is on the left. Where is he taking you?

"A malewife."

"A what?"

"It must be some slang from their world. But it isn't an insult from what I've gathered. In fact, I think it's a compliment."

Thoma blushes a little as he stares straight ahead. You turn your head to hide your smile at his cute reaction. Chinju forest surrounds you as you pass under a red gate and walk along the stone path. You really hoped he wasn't taking you where you think it is.

"But if you want a deeper answer, the creator sees you as a loyal person. As kind and helpful you are to others, it's your fierce loyalty that keeps their eye on you. It burns as bright as your flames."

His eyes shine at your words as he looks up at the sky wistfully. The moon seems to reflect in his eyes.

"Do you mind if I tell you something a little personal? I just feel comfortable with you so easily."

"Go ahead."

"When I still lived in Monstadt with my mom, my dad would send me letters from Inazuma. My parents had their differences, but they never failed to speak so highly of the creator. His letters always ended with a reminder to look for the creator in my hard times."

His words made your shoulders heavy. With guilt or responsibility? You don't know yet. You could only take some solace in the glowing blue flowers of the forest.

"When I left Mondstadt to find my dad, I took a little boat and sailed with a bottle of wine. It's a miracle I didn't die. It was the creator's grace."

You remember reading that part of his character story. It was a shame he never found his father nor the bottle of wine.

"When I was on the boat as the storm raged and it was falling apart at the seams. All I could do was pray, pray that I would somehow survive. When I woke up, I was on Inazuma. My lord and lady were the ones who found me and took me in. That's why I gave them my loyalty just like I gave my loyalty to the creator."

You're standing at the front of the Kamisato Estate when Thoma stops and smiles at you. His eyes were almost closed with how hard he was smiling.

You could tell he was happy, you wished you could feel the same. Because at that moment all you could feel was relief. Relief that you wouldn't have to feel responsible for all their misplaced faith.

You were not a God; you did not save them. But if they knew the truth that you were their beloved creator, you don't know if you could actually tell them that.

"Thoma..."

You trail off, not wanting to lie in such a personal moment. You clutch the strap of your bag. Thoma looks at you with gentle eyes patiently waiting for whatever you have to say.

"The words I'm gonna say right now are mine, not the creators. Even if you didn't sail to Inazuma and almost drown. Even if you didn't meet Lord and Lady Kamisato. I still fully believe that you would be just as great and loyal to whoever you chose. A friend, a lover, even if it was an animal. Anyone would be lucky to have someone like you care for them. You, yourself even without that vision is just as incredible."

You start off softly but feel a rise in your pace as your words come together. You look up at him and smile brightly. All your teeth show, and you feel that happiness he displayed earlier.

Thoma sucks in a sharp breath as his heart rate speeds up. His face burns for reasons he can't seem to comprehend. Why did your words have such a strong effect? How do you look so ethereal with the moonlight shining on you?

A guard calls out to you both from the top of the stairs.

"Thoma?! Is that you?"

You peak past Thoma to see a guard walk closer. Before you could see Thomas's face, he turns his head around clears his throat.

"Hey Hirotatsu! This is Y/N a special guest I brought to meet our lord and lady. Depending on how the meeting goes, they might become more than just a special guest."

His words remind you of your situation. He brought you to Ayato and Ayaka. You'll have to lie and use all sorts of tricks to survive with your life and identity intact. You hope desperately that Ayato doesn't ask you to take off the mask.

Thoma turns to you with a apologetic smile.

"I know this isn't Ritou like you were probably expecting but I promise you. If you can prove your oracle status to my lord and lady, they'll provide you with the safest and fastest way to Liyue."

His smile turns almost sad as he says his next words.

"I'm sure you understand why it's important for me to make sure that you travel in a safe boat."

You know what he's saying. You know that this is technically emotional manipulation. But damn it, he's looking at you with warm eyes and a nervous smile that makes you want to pinch his cheeks. You were weak in this area.

"It's fine, I'm no fake. I'll prove it to them just as I proved it to you and everyone else so far."

You speak with casual confidence and face the stairs that lead to hell. Ayaka wasn't the issue, she's sheltered to a degree that you could spin a tale and have a good chance of escaping. But Ayato? That man believes few things and trusts even fewer.

A pleasantly hot fingerless gloved hand takes yours heating you up. Thoma leads you gently up the stairs. You follow him like a moth to a flame knowing that you're close to being burnt to a crisp.

Something to add is that if Y/N changes things that happened or says something that doesn't align with what happened. It was completely intentional. I just don't want to write "You lied, you paraphrased etc at almost every dialogue. I'm riding on my creative high and taking full advantage of it. Plus, I'm finally almost done getting used to writing again. I loved all your comments, reblogs and hearts! And my taglist is open to whoever wants to be in. Just leave a comment and I'll add you.

Taglist: @vvyeislazzy, @nikqi, @the-dumber-scaramouche, @etherisy, @yourlocalstranger123, @ra404, @iruiji, @goldenglow149, @haru-tofuu, @lsleepysimpl, @bebobeboben, @yuyuzi-ling, @amidst-the-tempest, @resident-cryptid, @mxd1zzy, @mochicurls21, @nervouseaglelover, @thedevioussmirk, @yumuramma If you are in italics that means I couldn't tag you! Usually you'll need to check your settings to fix that.

#yandere genshin impact #whisp's amateur work #yandere genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin sagau #oracle au #yandere itto #yandere sagau #yandere sara #I can't believe there is no tag for that #yandere shinobu #another tag that I had to make #yandere thoma #sagau #genshin impact sagau #yandere x reader #yandere #genshin impact x reader #geshin impact #sagau cult au #sagau isekai #sagau x reader #sagau genshin

[ecoamerica]

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

#ACLA24 #ACLA24Leaders #youtube #youtube video #climate leaders #climate solutions #climate action #climate and environment #climate #climate change #climate and health #climate blog #climate justice #climate news #weather and climate #environmental news #environment #environmental awareness #environment and health #environmental #environmental issues #environmental justice #environment protection #environmental health #Youtube

[rxbxlcaptain]

My Papa, My Stardust Chapter 4

Previous Chapter // AO3

Well, hello there.

It's been, *checks watch* , more than five years since I've updated this story. There was a whole pandemic shoved in the middle of that gap, and I didn't even cram some of this story into lockdown. Cassian Andor has gotten his own show since then! (I liked Andor, honestly, but that canon didn't exist when I wrote this story and, obviously, I have a general disregard for canon anyway. So, we will pay little if not no respect to that show in this fic.

I come with no explanation, only that I got a new computer and in the process of switching over some files from the old to the new, I found the 50k unedited words I once wrote for NaNoWriMo and, well, it turns out continuing an idea you've already drafted is a lot easier than writing from scratch. I hope you enjoy the continuation!

Hyperspace, 5 BBY

“Do organics ever consider how much they miss out on while they sleep?”

Cassian wished he was unfamiliar with such a non sequitur from his droid, especially within the first hour he was awake. Especially when woken up aboard his U-Wing, which did nothing to inspire restful sleep. “Did you run into any Imperial patrols?”

“No,” Kaytuesso answered, turning a dial on the control panel, “But you may want to hear this.”

An Imperial broadcast crackled over the speakers. Cassian hated hearing them, but they generally provided good intel. Even if all news was thoroughly coated in propaganda before being released to the public, nuggets of the truth (or at least leads that needed to be investigated) came through. 

A crisp, matter-of-fact announcer boomed out over the broadcast. “ .... are happy to announce the galactic terrorist known by the name Saw Gerrera has, at long last, been captured by the Empire. ”

Cassian’s eyes went wide. He attended several council meetings (always quiet, always observing) over the span of time Gerrera still considered himself a part of the Rebel Alliance. He had never spoken to the man, but Gerrera’s presence spoke for itself in any room he entered. 

“How long has this been playing?”

The droid gave its best approximation of a shrug. “Half an hour. The same message has played repeatedly without variation.”

Half an hour. The news was still fresh then. Of all the times to be away from Rebel Intelligence…

“His forces have sown seeds of chaos in every planet they have touched, taken countless lives of Imperial citizens and caused too many to live in fear. No more shall the galaxy live in fear of this terrorist. His execution shall be broadcasted live, tomorrow…”

Saw Gerrera hadn’t been a member of the Alliance for a long time, Cassian knew. By some definitions, he was never a member at all, merely a nuisance in the side of the Alliance. Still, Gerrera stood as a symbol of rebellion and freedom for many. And for Cassian, he often made recruitment easier. After seeing the extreme lengths Gerrera took to fight the Empire, the Alliance seemed tame by comparison, and Cassian had little trouble convincing young and hopeful recruits their rebellious spirits would better serve the Alliance.

But watching the galaxy’s best known rebel be put to death would be a loss the Alliance could afford, ally or not. 

“Has headquarters been in contact about this?” Cassian asked the droid, pulling open message channels on his datapad. Draven rarely sent messages while Cassian was in open space, worried about the chance of the message being intercepted, but such an important and public event would surely warrant something.

“We are already returning to base,” Kay answered, “Headquarters would likely not change our orders before we arrive.”

Kay was correct, Cassian discovered quickly. An unlabeled message sat unread in Cassian’s datapad, containing only a sensational headline about Gerrera’s capture. Draven had not added any additional instructions, no plan for a rescue or new coordinates to chart. Proceed as planned, the unvoiced orders said.

The droid glanced towards Cassian. “Should I alter our course?”

“No,” Cassian sighed. “Remain on course for Dantooine.”

Dantooine, 5 BBY

Davitis Draven did not support the rescue mission sent after Saw Gerrera. As far as the general was concerned, Gerrera was a hindrance to the Rebellion rather than an aide to it. Gerrera embodied the horror stories good Imperial mothers told their children at night; his profile decorated target boards at Imperial academies. 

More personally, Gerrera caused him only headaches, but Draven was skilled at keeping his personal opinions concealed. So, despite his personal misgivings on the matter, Draven sat with other members of the Alliance brass, eyes glued to the holo portraying Gerrera’s supposed execution and subsequent rescue. Whether the partisan leader was returned to the Alliance in one piece fell somewhere down Draven’s personal hierarchy; keeping the remaining members, and their current base, secret and away from the probing eyes of the Empire, remained the most important. 

Somewhere in the middle fell his curiosity of the Imperial scientist Galen Erso. The man was nothing short of a recluse -- nothing highly unusual compared to the scientists Draven had the opportunity to meet over the years, but still worthy of a study nonetheless. Erso’s name floated through intelligence files since the days of the Republic: a name always on the edge of a breakthrough, but never creating something noteworthy enough to become a household name. 

Still, this whole ordeal with the scientist’s daughter appearing side by side with one of the galaxy’s fiercest freedom fighters piqued Draven’s interest -- as did the sight of the young woman flashing past the holo clothed as an Imperial officer. Gerrera was too paranoid for an Imperial spy to survive in his ranks for long, but other possible backstories for the girl seemed just as improbable. 

Maybe he should ask Andor’s droid what the most likely scenario was. Force knows it would love the opportunity to tell him.

“Did you see the girl?” Draven asked Captain Andor. The captain had barely returned him a recruiting run in time to watch the execution live. With Gerrera aboard Idryssa Barruck’s ship and safely out of the atmosphere, Draven began planning his next steps forward. Let the X-Wings and ground troops remain in charge of maintaining the safety of the rebel base and ensuring Gerrera’s rescue mission wasn’t followed; Rebel Intelligence would be planning how to manipulate this brief show of power to their advantage. 

“Galen Erso’s daughter?” The captain fell in line with Draven as he continued out of the war room. “I don’t believe she looked up during the entire ceremony. She’s been with Gerrera’s cadre for years.”

“But still strongly tied to the Imperials.” Draven lowered his voice before continuing. “I’m not sure what new arrangement will happen with Gerrera, but I need the info he has on that woman immediately.” She would either be a future asset to be exploited or a leak the Alliance would never be able to fill. Either way, Andor would be an excellent agent to follow up on the situation. 

Captain Andor nodded, glancing towards the flow of traffic slowly returning to their original routines now that the spectacle of the day had ended. 

“Get some rest, Captain Andor,” Draven ordered. The man had neither rest nor food between landing and watching the would-be execution. Likely his droid had received more care than he had in the meantime. “Dismissed.”

Eadu, 5 BBY

    Rain had never tasted so sweet on Jyn’s skin.

    She stepped out of the transport shuttle, flanked by two Imperial guards, and onto Eadu Flight Station’s tarmac. Releasing a shuddering breath, Jyn tilted her face towards the rain. Her hands were still bound, so she couldn’t wipe the water around, only inhale the sensation of the rivets running down, down her face. It felt cleansing to her soul.

    Memories of Mama wandered across Jyn’s mind. Escaping the city planet of Coruscant and reconnecting with nature — with the Force — was Mama’s favorite thing. How many times had Jyn seen her mother do exactly this, the first time she was released from the prison of the city? Thinking of her made Jyn feel calmer as she escaped her most recent prison — only to walk into a newer one.

    Her father waited at the end of the tarmac, taking shelter from the rain under the awning of the building. The guards nudged her towards him with rifles to her back, their touches more gentle than Jyn expected. Much to Jyn’s relief, Krennic was nowhere to be seen.

    “Father,” Jyn greeted when she reached him. She ignored his flinch at her cold tone. “It’s been so long.”

    “Jyn.” When he spoke, he only sounded exasperated. He still expects you to be a baby , Jyn reminded herself. He still hasn’t learned you’ve grown up. (She thought the punch to the jaw might be enough, but apparently whatever he’d learned of her then had faded along with that bruise.) He gestured at the stuncuffs around Jyn’s wrists, requesting one of the guards remove them. “Come with me. Let me show you the facility.”

    “Will this prison cell come with more reliable lights than the last one?”

    When Galen’s steps faltered with surprise at her words, Jyn found satisfaction in it.

    “What do you mean?”

    “The wiring was surprisingly faulty for an Imperial building on Coruscant,” Jyn explained. Based on her tone, the rain outside would have been just as interesting of a topic. “It would flicker out for minutes or hours at a time. What’s the point of having world class technicians if they can’t keep the electricity working for your prisoners?”

    As for the hours when the lights were on… Jyn would save that topic for another day.

    “That shouldn’t have happened.” Galen reached for her arm, but Jyn sidestepped him, bumping into one of the guards. Her father stopped, his face serious. The traffic in the hallway was too crowded to stop here, pilots and ‘troopers and men whose uniforms matched her father’s shuffled both directions, yet none of them seemed bothered to step about the group, at least not when they saw who they were stepping around. “I was told…”

    Worry or anger or whatever emotion had filled his eyes at her announcement vanished, and his eyes once again seemed distant as he swallowed. “Never mind that now. An unfortunate situation, but I’m sure the director did the best he could. You’re here now and that’s what really matters.”

    “Why am I here?” Jyn asked. No one had given her any information since they’d pulled open her cell door. (The bright light from the adjoining room blinded her for a moment; the Death Troopers only seemed more intimidating, more massive among the shocking outline.) The Imperial uniform she’d worn to Saw’s execution was shoved into her hands — the guards hadn’t given her any semblance of privacy as she’d changed at gun point — and then she’d been ushered into a shuttle. She’d been in hyperspace for hours, her left hand cuffed to the wall of the ship, without anyone speaking to her.) Her father, at the very least, should answer any pressing questions she had.

    “You’re here to assist me in my project, Jyn, but you shouldn’t need to worry about that tonight. You’ve had a long journey, and rest seems more important right now. I’ll give you a quick tour of the facility, but you don’t need to worry about the work until after you’ve rested.”

     Because sleep will come so easily to me here.

    Bright fluorescent lights illuminated each hallway, much like the building Jyn had been kept in on Coruscant. Based on the security checkpoints — some requiring her father’s keycard, which Jyn could steal, but others requiring biometric identification, which would be much harder to fake — this facility had been designed for the Empire’s use, where Jyn’s holding cell on Coruscant’s simple locks and lack of proper jail cells suggested it had been converted post the Clone Wars, or possibly more recently.

    Her father acted as a tour guide as they walked, indicating the mess hall and several corridors of barracks for the enlisted men (“You’ll stay closer to the labs, with the rest of the science officers,” he explained and Jyn balked at the thought of being addressed as an officer on a daily basis). Finally, he came to the main lab, pressing his thumb against the keypad outside the door.

    “This,” he said as the door slid open with a whoosh. “is where you’ll find me.”

    Lights flickered on one row at a time, and Jyn took a moment to examine the lab. The room looked much as Jyn remembered his laboratory on Coruscant. Her memories from that time faded over time, but stepping into such a familiar environment sharpened them. Datapads littered countertops, and holoprojectors, turned off for the end of the day, sat, ready to display her father’s project whenever required. The spectrometer Jyn recognized, but many machines were unfamiliar to her. If her father was telling her the truth and she was to join in on his project, she assumed she’d soon learn to operate them.

    “Krennic showed me some of your coding work,” her father said as Jyn wandered inside the lab. He waited by the door, patient yet expectant. Was he curious what her reaction to the facility would be? Looking for her approval? “I was impressed. Saw must have taught you well.”

    So, he was going to mention Saw. Part of Jyn wondered if he would simply ignore the past eight years, continue as if they had never left each other. “Saw taught me many things,” she said. “Most importantly, he taught me how to survive.”

    “And for that I’m very grateful. You’ll need those skills here, Jyn.”

    “I don’t believe the Imperials are going to hand me a blaster.” But what she wouldn’t give for one right now — a blaster, her truncheons, the knives they stripped off when she was captured.

    “I’m not talking about physical strength.” Galen walked along the opposite side of the counter Jyn paced, keeping even with her but still enough distance between them. “I’m talking about the will to survive. When you were injured or you were hungry or you were tired, Saw taught you to keep going. This place, Jyn,” he motioned around him, “this place is very, very different than what you’re used to. I don’t need to tell you that. You’ll be well fed and have the best medical care the Empire can offer you, but, Jyn —'' he caught her eye before he continued, ensured she was listening “ — Jyn, this place will make you tired, and part of you will be hungry. Part of you, perhaps, will feel injured in ways that bacta could never heal. That’s when you’ll need what Saw taught you.”

    Jyn stared at her father after his unexpected speech. He’s lying , part of her brain yelled at her, he wants you to trust him and would say anything to earn it.

     Listen to him , another part urged. Listen to your Papa. He’s always loved you, he’s always cared for you.

    Both halves sounded like liars to Jyn. She stayed quiet rather than responding to her father.

    He seemed to understand her silence. Sighing, he gestured to the door again. “I’ll show you to your room, Jyn.”

    ( Her father wouldn’t be delivering her to a cell , reminded herself. He wouldn’t be delivering her to a cell. )

    Down another hallway, making a left and then a right turn. No distinguishing marks separated one hallway from another; there were no windows to orient Jyn to the outside world and no markers pointing from one destination to the next. With a jolt of panic, Jyn realized she had lost count of the path she’d taken to get from the hanger to the lab. Was that what her father intended, when he showed her the lab? To disorientate her enough that she would never be able to find her way out of the lab?

     It wouldn’t matter , her mind snorted. The only way off this planet is by diving off one of those cliffs.

    Her father made one last turn and stopped outside a door, as nondescript as the one next to it. Waving his keycard in front of the pad, the door slid open to reveal a room, similar to the one Jyn slept in with Saw on Wrea. A bed was shoved against one wall, a desk and a small wardrobe shoved against the opposite one. No windows, like the rest of the facility. It glowed white where Jyn’s quarters with Saw were muted by earthy tones, but it was similar enough to calm Jyn’s anxious mind.

    He motioned her into the room, but didn’t follow her in. “This is only your space, Jyn. Until you’re assigned a keycard, only mine will open it. I’ll remove that privilege as soon as you have access.”

    Gently, Jyn ran her fingers over the pillow case and sat on the mattress. Firm, solid, cleaned recently. Better quality than many beds Jyn had slept in over the years.

    “It’s fairly standard.” Her father cleared his throat. “I didn’t know what to put in it for you. But there is one thing for you. Open the top drawer.” He pointed at the desk across from the bed. Curiosity won over Jyn as she did as he said. Inside, a code replicator sat, a newer model than Saw had gifted her.

    “You can’t win me over with gifts,” Jyn muttered under her breath.

    “I don’t expect to, Jyn, only to give you something I thought you’d enjoy.”

    She stayed silent, fingering the code replicator.

    “I’ll leave you for the night, then.” He stepped back into the hallway. “The door will be unlocked, Jyn. You’re welcome to leave as you please.”

    Jyn snorted. “I’m welcome to wander the halls of an Imperial facility, you mean. This isn’t freedom.”

    “I didn’t say it was freedom.”

    “No, you said —”

    “Either you are to live here,” Galen snapped, “or you return to the cell from which you just left, Jyn.” He sucked in a ragged breath, pausing to rub at his temples. “I don’t mean to shout, but your options are limited. I’ve done the best I can.”

    “You’ve done the best you can?” Jyn sneered. “My mother’s dead, you’re building Force-knows what for the Empire, and the man who raised me was nearly executed in front of me. Forgive me if I don’t trust your track record.”

    Galen stayed silent for so long Jyn thought he wouldn’t answer, simply walk out the door and lock it behind him. Instead, he stayed, dropping his hand from the keypad and looking back at Jyn. His eyes were heavy. Dark bags hung under them. Had those been there since Jyn met him on Coruscant? Had they been there since Mama died?

    “I haven’t been given the best options.” He turned back to the door, but spoke once more. “I can’t dictate what you believe, Jyn, but know I have always done my best to protect you.”

    Beneath the layers of anger and hurt boiling in her chest, Jyn heard the voice again. Its voice was smaller than a bogling, but still persistent, shouting its same message as earlier. He loves you. He wants to keep you safe. Listen to him.

    The voice wanted to believe her father.

    Galen left without asking if she understood — a small mercy, because Jyn knew that she didn’t, wasn’t sure she could ever understand what her father was doing.

    Jyn never learned how her father convinced Krennic to allow her, not only out of the cramped cell she called home for two weeks, but into the lab where he works. A spiteful voice inside her head tells her not to ask. After all, if she never knows what he did; she’ll never have to be thankful for it.

Get a good night's rest, her father had told her, so that she would be bright eyed and bushy tailed in the morning to do the Empire’s bidding.

    Eadu Flight Station had become her home, Jyn couldn’t deny that. She could, however, prevent it from becoming part of her identity.

    Galen Erso’s blood and Imperial connections ran through her veins, but that didn’t stop Saw Gerrera’s teachings from flowing through her heart and her mind.

    She would cooperate — she didn’t have many options if she wanted to stay alive. She would not, under any circumstances, help the Empire move forward with its project. (She didn’t even know the details of the project yet, but it wouldn’t matter — It benefited the Empire, and that was enough for Jyn to know she wanted nothing to do with it.)

    The matter was set to rest, but Jyn wasn’t. Blame it on Saw’s teaching or her general distrust of humans, but turning off the lights and falling asleep was going to be impossible for Jyn. Even with the locked door no one could access but her father (and she had no reason to believe he would lie, but she had no reason to trust him either), without a weapon in her hand and nowhere to run if threatened, Jyn couldn’t calm her mind well enough to sleep.

    Instead, she paced. Relentlessly and endlessly, mapping out the each length of her room, measuring by her footsteps. She took stock of the contents littering the room. (Nothing more exciting than what she had previously noticed: a bed with clean linens, a desk with drawers empty except for the code replicator her father gifted to her, and a wardrobe that held two sets of Imperial uniforms identical to the ones she wore now and some set of looser, relaxed clothes obviously meant for sleeping.) Jyn spotted no holocams in the corners of the room or microphones in her mattress, though without a knife to cut it open, she couldn’t be certain.

    With no chrono ticking the hours away and no way to see the sun of the system (though, come to think of it, with the rain Eadu received, would she be able to see the system’s sun, even with a window?), the passage of time seemed almost surreal. Jyn’s eyelids drooped; too much of her sleep recently had been induced by chemicals or a Stormtrooper’s anger rather than her need to fall asleep.

     Whatever I do, I do it to protect you.

    I have always done my best to protect you.

    Her father’s words rang in her head on endless loops. She begged her mind to conjure up any other words, any other voice: the last words her mother spoke to her, Saw’s advice upon the first time she went into battle, Codo’s laugh that she always found so annoying. At this point, Jyn would rather listen to a speech given by the Emperor himself rather than hearing her father’s voice.

    Either that, or for her father to return to the room.

     I don’t need your protection! Jyn would scream at him if he were here. What has your protection ever gotten me? You sent me to Saw. You let my mother die. If it weren’t for you, Saw would have taken me with him.

    The last, bitter truth was the worst realization Jyn had come to during her stay in the Imerpial torture facility on Coruscant. Her connection to her father became the deciding factor in Saw’s abandonment of her. If she wasn’t the daughter of an Imperial officer, if she didn’t have such obvious connections in the wrong places, if it weren’t for her last name, Saw would have turned around, would have reached for her hand and pulled her along out of the chamber and into safety. The Alliance would take them in and they’d learn to play by their diplomatic rules.

    But instead, she found herself stuck in an Imperial facility with nothing but white walls and unfriendly forces surrounding her.

    Distracted fingers played at the edges of the code replicator. Its presence on the desk mocked her, reminding her of the one she carried aboard Saw’s ship to Tamsye Prime, the one she had used since she first came to Saw’s cadre. She had no purpose for it here, not unless the Imperials wanted to observe her skills and learn how to best those who impersonated their codes.

    With a grunt of frustration, Jyn slammed the code replicator against the edge of the desk, again and again, until the screen cracked in two. (Again she slammed it, simply to relieve the frustration of the last few days.) The machine was thicker than a datapad and harder to manipulate, but using the edge of the desk for leverage, she bent the screen in two, until the cracked transparisteel pieces broke free of their bindings. She dug her fingers under the pieces — if only her nails were longer, perhaps they would have better leverage, perhaps her fingers wouldn’t be covered with blood by the end of this — and plied them away.

    The process took several minutes of maneuvering, but at least Jyn emerged with a shard of transparisteel gripped in her hand. Blood coated the edges of her fingers and bubbled over onto her palm, but despite that Jyn smiled.

    She didn’t need her father’s protection. Jyn would listen to her father exactly once — “You’ll need what Saw taught you” — and keep herself safe.

Her father made no move to comment on her bloody hands or the broken code replicator when he woke her the next morning.

    (Woke, perhaps, was the wrong term. Jyn had sat for the entire evening, forcing her eyelids to stay open. Her father made no comment on the dark circles under her eyes, either.)

    “The lab,” Galen explained as he walked into the room, despite its stop on his tour not twelve hours previous. “You’ll be joining me here everyday. I don’t suppose you’ll need a wake up call every morning, but… Well, I wanted to help you get acquainted with the routine.”

    “I don’t need an escort then?” Jyn raised a challenging eyebrow at him. Galen merely sighed in response.

    “You don’t need an escort or a chaperone, Jyn. You’ll have a job to do every day, but once it’s completed, the facility is yours to explore and utilize. If there’s a project you want to explore, perhaps, you’d be free to do so. There are training grounds where you’d be more than welcome as well, if you wanted to keep up your physical strength.”

    Jyn almost smiled at that one. The idea of finding an Imperial sparring partner — an off duty ‘trooper she could beat bloody once in a while, perhaps — sounded entirely ideal.

    “I just figured…” Galen cleared his throat. “I figured working alongside me would help your transition. And, well, you’ve proven yourself adept at coding. You’ll be very useful to Tino.”

    “Tino?”

    Tino turned out to be another member of her father’s team of engineers, all of whom she was introduced to shortly. Tino Vic, a man a decade Jyn’s senior from Naboo, was their programming specialist and more than happy to welcome Jyn into their ranks, explaining their computer system and inquiring what programs she had used before. Jyn didn’t bother biting back the reminder that she had been a member of a renegade rebel group, so she wasn’t exposed to the latest Imperial technology. He merely laughed in response — not at all what Jyn was expecting — and assured her they’d get her up to speed in no time.

    Criz Iblik kept mainly to himself, Galen assured her, so she shouldn’t be offended by the way he brushed off her introduction. Nor should she mind the attention she received from Lucian Judd, the son of a wealthy banker on Scipio.

    “I don’t think he’s ever been told no in his life,” Galen murmured, leaning closer to Jyn’s ear as if gossiping together. She yanked backward, glaring, but he merely took her negative reaction in stride. “I believe meeting you might be highly beneficial to him.”

    That only left Jerred Anholts and Oltach Aske, who both greeted her with a smile. When she didn’t warm to their social pleasantries, Jerred shrugged and returned to his work, but Oltach stared at her a moment longer, a fond smile on his face as he watched her.

    “What?” Jyn snapped when his attention lasted a moment too long.

    “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s just… You look so much like Lyra.”

    Jyn’s brain short circuited at the sound of her mother’s name. What would this man know of her mother?

    “Ah.” The scientist rubbed the back of his neck, and his smile shifted slightly awkwardly. “I’m sorry, I thought your father might have told you. I’ve known your family for years. Galen, Director Krennic and I went to the Republic Future’s Program together, so I knew your mother fairly well on Coruscant.” He pointed towards Jyn scowl. “She would get that same look on her face whenever something displeased her.”

    Jyn hurried back to her father’s side. Talk of her mother only made her insides go fuzzy and red tinge her vision, and exposing weakness to these Imperials was the last thing she needed to do.

    “You still haven’t told me,” she said once she reached her father. At his quizzical glance, she rephrased. “What exactly the research is.”

    “Ah,” her father said and then hesitated for a moment. “Tell me, Jyn, what does Saw know about my research? I’ve had a strong suspicion he’s been following it for years.”

    “Whatever he knows, I wouldn’t tell you,” Jyn growled. Another interrogation? Days of torture and the Imperial’s new tactic was to simply have her father ask her? If she were going to break at easily, she wouldn’t have withstood their torture for days.

    Galen held up his hands in surrender. “Never mind what Saw knows. What do you remember, from our days on Coruscant?”

    “Crystals,” Jyn said, figuring that was basic enough. “You worked with crystals.”

    “I did,” Galen nodded. “Speaking of, I believe this belongs to you.”

    He patted several pockets of his Imperial uniform. (He was always so forgetful, but Jyn had forgotten until this moment. Mama used to follow behind him to pick up anything he’d left behind before they’d leave their home on Coruscant. “He’s just thinking of too many things at once,” she explained to a young Jyn, so many years ago. “The mundane things slip through his fingers quite easily.”) His face lit up, a small “Oh” on his lips, as he reached into one pocket and emerged with her mother’s kyber pendant.

    A sigh of relief escaped Jyn, seeing it in her father’s outstretched palm. When she’d woken up without it on Coruscant, gone with the rest of her clothing, she thought it would be gone forever. Simply another piece of her identity swallowed up by the Empire.

    “Your mother gave it to you?” Galen asked, quiet and slower than he’d spoken before. Jyn nodded. “I wondered why she didn’t have it when she died.”

    The scowl pulled at her lips again. What did he want from her? A shared moment of pain and grief over her mother’s death? He wouldn’t get it, not here, in the heart of all she despised and ran away from. Jyn barely felt worthy to think of her mother while wearing the uniform she hated so much.

    Galen cleared his throat. “If she wanted you to have it, then you should keep it, Jyn. That’s your part of her.”

    “I don’t want it,” Jyn said. “Not here.”

    It didn’t belong, smothered under an Imperial uniform. Galen, at least, seemed to understand.

    “I’ll keep it here.” He opened the top draw of his desk, laying it among a clutter of notes and various instruments. “Any time you want it, Jyn, it’ll be here waiting for you.”

    “You’re stalling,” Jyn accused, desperate to change the topic. “You haven’t told me about the research.”

    He nodded and flicked several switches on the tabletop in front of him. A diagram flickered to life above the table, green lines curving to shape some massive object, round like a moon with one giant crater in its side. Whatever it was supposed to be, Jyn couldn’t understand.

    “I don’t know what this is.”

    “That’s because,” Galen explained, “there’s nothing else like this in the entire galaxy.” He stood and walked around the diagram, as if he were examining it for the first time as well. “This will be the Empire’s newest battle station, more powerful than anything the galaxy has ever seen before.”

    “Don’t skimp on the details,” Lucian, the over arrogant young scientist, snickered from the side. “Tell her about the weapon, Doc.”

    “Weapon?” Jyn shot her father a piercing glare. “What weapon?”

    “It’s laser beam.” He pointed towards the dent in its upper hemisphere, steadfastly refusing to meet her eyes. “It’s being powered by kyber crystals. It should be quite powerful. Yet to be tested, of course, but our research suggests it can — and Orson dearly hopes it will — have the power to break apart a planet’s core.”

    Cold seeped through her chest as the meaning of her father’s words sunk in.

    “You could destroy planets with this weapon.” Her voice fell flat, emotionless as the enormity of what he was describing sunk in. “Entire worlds.”

    “Now, now, my dear,” Jerred Anholt shook his head at her. “It’s merely a scare tactic. The Empire has no need to use it. The battle station will be nothing more than a symbol of power throughout the galaxy.” He chuckled to himself. “Though I daresay it might scare those pesky rebels a bit, wouldn’t it?”

    “Much more work needs to be done,” Galen hurried to say, as if he sensed the snarky comment about pesky rebels on Jyn’s lips. “It won’t be operational for years to come.”

    Jyn longed for a connection to Saw, to the Alliance, even to the useless bastards of Imperial Senate. Someone had to be informed about the atrocity these engineers had created.

    Her father met her icy glare for the first time since bringing up the diagram, his eyes lined with  a silent plea, as if he was asking Jyn to understand. She refused to stay in the room with these plans — or with the man who’d created them — any longer. Turning on her heel, Jyn slammed open the door to the hallway.

    The last thing she heard was a low whistle coming from Judd. “A bit of a temper on that one, huh?”

#kat writes #therebelcaptainnetwork #dailyrebelcaptain #rebelcaptain #cassian andor #jyn erso #ive been away from the fandom for a minute #so im not really sure whats been going on #but i hope at least one of you reads and enjoys

[luck-and-larceny]

Meeeeee

This was a nice thing to be tagged in! I have not been feeling great the past few days and my brain is juuust starting to work again. Answer questions about myself? Way easier than answering character questions right now! Thank you for the tag @thefreelanceangel! 1. Are you named after anyone?

Yes and no and kinda? Good answer? Ok. I'll move on then. Just kidding. Time to ramble more! My first name is Rhiannon (Ree-ann-in). I'm named after the Fleetwood Mac song if that means anything to anyone. But my mom liked it so much not -just- because she was a musicophile (she is definitely that) but also because she liked the Welsh mythology. My middle name, which I won't put here so that I can maintain my ever so slight air of mystery, was in honor of my aunt on my mom's side and my uncle on my dad's side who both have variations of the name.

2. When was the last time you cried?

Uh. I cry all the time so asking me to remember specifically when isn't fair. I teared up last night after watching the episode of The Toys That Made Us on the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. ^^;

3. Do you have kids?

Like @thefreelanceangel, I've got pets! No kids for a multitude of reasons. That can be someone else's journey to go on.

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

Nah. Never.

5. What sports do you play/have you played?

I used to really enjoy playing soccer, pickle ball, and tennis. I'm far too out of shape to be good at any of those anymore. Now my favorite sport to play is "I walked up and down the stairs to do laundry so, you know, I'm killing it."

6. What is the first thing you notice about other people?

I don't know! I think I take in the whole -motions with hands to indicate the whole everything- first. Not in a nitpicky, judgmental, dumb way (god, then you could do that back to ME and I really would prefer you don't). Just the first thing I notice is the person? And the vibe? Like an immediate: Do I feel comfortable? Am I nervous? Do they seem nervous? Do they seem nice? Oh god, do I seem nice? If I talk to them, how likely are they to want to punt me across the room? Heh. Is that a good opening line that would make us both feel less nervous? "Hi! Nice to meet you. You're not likely to punt me across the room are you?" I may have just given away that I am a very introverted, anxious, and peculiar person above. That's Ok. Please don't punt me.

7. Scary movies or happy endings?

Why not both? Depends on my mood! Well. And I suppose the exact kind of scary or happy movie, too.

8. Any special talents?

Ummmmmm... I don't think I'm terrible at writing or singing. I could be a lot better at both, of course, but I could be a lot worse too! Are those boring? I'll try to think of a more interesting answer. I can sing every song backwards, flawlessly, and completely without error. That sounds like a special talent, right? I mean, it possibly (definitely) isn't true, but maybe it's more interesting to imagine.

9. Where were you born?

This reads like a "Just curious, what's the answer to one of the security questions you're likely to get asked frequently?" I was born in the backseat Of a Mustang On a cold night In the hard rain And the very first song that the radio sang Was "I won't be home no more." -Old 97s

10. Do you have any hobbies?

Changing the words to songs to put my cats' names in them, making up entirely new songs to sing at my cats, singing entirely made up songs about whatever task I am currently doing ("Singing while I type about my-se-e-e-e-elf. Singing cuz this quiz ain't about no one e-e-e-else.") ((<-- I didn't say the songs were any -good-) I write. I play video games. I watch a whooole lot of YouTube. I play tabletop RPGs. I daydream constantly about a vast array of other hobbies I want to take up but haven't yet.

11. Do you have any pets?

I do! One big ole fluffy black cat. One lil'r, sleek black cat. One old man leopard gecko. And maybe all the crickets that he hasn't eaten.

12. How tall are you?

5′ 2. The doctor has tried to tell me I'm actually 5' 1 and a half. But the doctor is obviously wrong. You really just can't trust doctors.

13. Favorite Subject in School:

Grade school and high school? Art and English. College: Cultural Anthropology and Linguistics. Though, to be honest, I only really got into Cultural Anthropology in the first place because the professor was really attractive. >.> I later learned to genuinely like the subject though! Despite my social anxiety, I -really- love learning about people and culture and I'm crazy about language.

14. Dream job?

Something that allows me to be myself and celebrates it! So anything that allows me the creative space to write/sing/act/engage with others in my full exuberance would be amazing. I'd really like to own a cat cafe. Or maybe a bookstore with a kitty. I'd just really like jobs that would allow me space to either feel wildly creative or wildly at peace.

15. Eye Color?

Brown. Brownish-green. Hazel, I guess! Or whatever color the oil sheen on my constantly icky glasses makes my eyes. -_- I swear, I can't get these things clean.

TAGGING: @herowren, @faustinebellamy, @argentrenard, @the-wanted-man, @lettersnorth, @unabashedrebel, @damienward-ffxiv, @irascibleblackguard and everyone!

#OOC #:D #Meeee

[13atoms]

Tour Bus (Eddie Munson x Reader)

Summary: Eddie wants to spend the summer touring around in his van. More importantly, he wants you to come with him.

Short, silly piece about Eddie kitting out his van for a summer of #van life. Fluff and no plot at all. No description of reader other than that they're about to go to college (I think 'babe' and 'sweetheart' are used, that's it). I fixed the end of S4.

1.6k words. No major warnings.

“So, you’re sure we’re not just… living in a van,” you asked, watching in amusement as your sweaty, overexcited boyfriend tried to figure out a tape measure.

He was trying to measure the width of the van. It wasn’t going well.

After the government had covered up what had happened in Hawkins, Eddie had left hospital to discover a van on the driveway. The keys had been left inside Wayne’s new trailer, a rubbery bubble-writing keychain attached to them bearing the name “Edward”.

Eddie hadn’t even had time to grimace at the keyring, limping outside to stare at the van again.

His.

It certainly wasn’t new. It had been second-hand, but thoroughly cleaned – there were only twenty-thousand miles on the clock.

It was the best thing Eddie had ever owned. After a thorough inspection, he’d whirled around to grin at you – face manic with excitement.

“This is our year!”

And then he’d graduated. Barely. Walked the stage beside you, with a cleared record. Wayne had clapped from the audience, exhausted from the night-shift and hiding a proud tear as his nephew offered one last middle-finger to the crowd, quickly being bundled off stage in peels of laughter.

He’d done it.

And now he was ready to leave, excited for a summer of travelling, planned out in a notebook which sat on the van’s dash. You were quietly apprehensive about going with him.

This was your last summer before college, and spending it travelling with Eddie sounded nothing short of perfect. But… in a van?

“It’s a tour bus, baby!” Eddie called back to you.

You refused to let him call it the ‘Coffin-mo

bile’. Or any variation on ‘Corroded’.

The band had some upcoming gigs booked all across the neighbouring states – the pay would barely cover fuel, but it was a start. You and Eddie would meet the rest of the band at the venues, intent on completing your pre-college bucket list. And spending some quality time together.

Both of your futures felt confusing and scary, but this was real. Petrol and metal, you and Eddie. Four long months of exploring together. Forgetting about Hawkins.

It would be perfect. If Eddie could manage to figure out how to put a mattress in the damn thing.

“I reckon we just pick up my mattress and see if it fits,” the metalhead declared, apparently completely flummoxed by your idea to plan before lifting anything heavy.

“I thought measuring was like, your job!” you teased.

“Not measuring fucking vans!”

“Better with eighth-ounces?”

You could hear him grumbling inside the hot van, and it made you laugh. He clambered out of the side-door, taking a moment to watch you. You were smothering a giggle, and he couldn’t hide a wide smile as he took you in. Surrounded by camping supplies, food, and clothes, despite the fact you claimed to hate anything outdoorsy. Wearing one of his rings, even though it annoyed you when you wrote. Standing between his trailer and van, despite the fact you could be anywhere else right now.

He took a moment to appreciate the fact you were trusting him. Putting aside your skepticism to spend time with him – trusting that a man with no camping experience could keep you safe. He wouldn’t fail. He had emergency cash stashed under the driver’s seat for a motel room, just in case you started to hate living in the van. This was gonna be it, he decided. The beginning.

His year.

You stepped over the mess to fix his hair, frizzy from the late-afternoon heat and mussed up by his frustrated fingers combing through it. He smiled as you leant over his shoulder, peering into the dark interior of the van as your chest pressed against his.

“I can measure it?” you offered gently, reaching for the tape measure nestled in his palm.

He pulled his hand away from you, holding the tape measure behind his back and out of your reach.

“I’ve eyeballed it, I think it’ll fit,” he insisted.

You groaned at him. Rolled your eyes. Ducked his attempt to kiss you.

“Eddie, c’mon. This is stupid – ”

He pouted, feigning upset, dark eyes wide.

You sighed, then acquiesced.

“If you insist.”

*

“What do we put it on?” you called out, struggling under the awkward weight of the mattress.

Eddie had one foot in the van already, trying to manoeuvre the mattress in – apparently fitting it sideways. 

“Just slap it on the floor!” he grunted.

You let go of the mattress, setting it down so it was diagonal across the back of the van. Eddie frowned. You set your hands on your hips.

“But then where do we put a water container? An ice box? Clothes?”

He groaned, throwing his head back dramatically – it set his curls flying.

“Stop thinking of everything!”

“Eds, we’ll literally die if I don’t!” You laughed back at him, watching as he burrowed his face in his hands.

He took your lead, sitting on the mattress and staring out the open door at the trailer park he was so ready to leave.

He flopped onto your shoulder, his sweaty face in the curve of your neck. You knew he was being dramatic. He was succeeding in making you laugh anyway.

“We’ll get there,” you promised.

Eddie groaned again, the noise muffled against your neck. You shuddered as his breath tickled you.

“We should have measured the mattress first, though.”

��Yes, I get it!” he complained, flopping back on it.

“It’s okay. Lots of adult men lack basic DIY skills these days – ”

He grunted, sitting up to wrap his arms around you and pull you back onto the mattress, laughing as you wound up flopped on top of him.

“Am I not rugged enough for you, babe?” he laughed, using his grip on you to flip you over.

Pinned beneath Eddie’s slim frame you could feel the warmth of him, the effort of his breathing in the thick heat. He was a bit sweaty, and shaking with laughter.

You imagined a hundred nights of sleeping in this van, on this mattress with him.

Then, you dug your fingers into his sides and made him shriek in outrage. He was the most ticklish man you’d ever met.

“You’re totally macho, babe.”

He squirmed until he could pin your wrists at your sides, pulling back to raise his eyebrows at you.

“Doesn’t sound like you mean that.”

Trying to conceal a giggle, you leant up to kiss him. Eddie craned his neck to move his face away, still mock pouting down at you.

“You’re basically Harrison Ford!”

“Now I know you’re lying. No one is as good looking as Harrison Ford,” Eddie insisted, a glint in his dark eyes to tell you he’s teasing you.

“You totally are.”

“You are totally full of shit,” he laughed, letting your wrists go, content just to squash you.

“I’m not!” you insisted, letting your hands rest in the small of Eddie’s back.

“You totally are.”

“He’s not even in a band!”

“Just some lame movie, huh?”

“Exactly.”

Eddie smiled to himself for a moment, pressing his forehead to yours fondly.

“I bet Harrison Ford doesn’t even have a tour bus,” you whispered, feeling Eddie laughing gently against you.

“Damn right,” Eddie paused for a moment, “probably more groupies though.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

*

In the end, it took two full days to fit out the van. Your trip was delayed, but neither of you cared. You had nowhere to be in a rush.

Wayne had helped the two of you to build a frame for storage and the bed. You’d packed everything up, packing supplies in a brilliant organisational system which would be doomed within the week. Eddie had built a mini-kitchen around an old camping stove Steve had given him, completely kitted out by borrowing from both of your homes.

You’d mounted a bracket for his guitar, to keep it safe on the road, and so he could practice in the evenings. Eddie had pulled you into a tight hug when he saw it.

The damn mattress had gone in last, making both of you curse and strain until finally, the van was complete. Eddie had cheered as the heavy bed finally slid into place, disrupting the early afternoon quiet of the trailer park.

“This is it, sweetheart!”

“We’re done!” you panted, grinning across at Eddie.

From the red of his face, he was just as puffed out.

“Done!” he cheered.

“So  are we… going now?”

“Why not? We’ve got places to see, baby!”

Before you could argue, Eddie had bounced to the driver side door.

You were more subdued as you walked around the van. You’d known you’d be leaving today, fully packed and said all your goodbyes, but there had always been the possibility something would go wrong. It wouldn’t happen. As you looked at the van, heard Eddie fiddling with the sound system, it was suddenly real.

Eddie grinned across the cab at you, and you offered a worried smile back. His hand found yours as he checked the back of the van one last time. It was a complete mix of everything, your clothes and snacks and belongings all strewn in together. Staring into the back of the van from the passenger seat, a lump caught in your throat.

“This is our first home together,” you realised suddenly.

“That’s fucking crazy.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

You were surprised there was only one false start (Eddie’s wallet, forgotten on the trailer steps) before you were singing out to the empty highway, windows down and music blaring.

“Babe?” he yelled over the music, voice drowned out as the wind whipped past the open windows.

You could have turned it down. This was more fun.

“What?” you screamed back.

“This is our year!”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #13atoms #i didnt proof this sorrryyy #fic #stranger things fic

[creativenicocorner]

tell me about splash 31!

Thank you so much for asking @metukika ! ♡

So Splash + 31 [working title, actual title tbd] is a Mature Reigen-centric fic that explores Reigen's life before meeting Mob, and his life after meeting Mob...specifically when he's shocked to live past 31...because he really didn't think he'd live that long, (more on that below).

Initially inspired by Colapesce, Dimartino's song "Splash" (which to me should have won last year's Sanremo singing contest, but this isn't about that...it did become popular enough to partake in a Korean singing contest though which was a delightful surprise!) As well as a very personal situation...but also to be cathartic about surviving past an age you didn't anticipate, and being in your early 30s.

Anyways, much like the main through line of the song "but I work so I won't have to be with you" and feeling the weighty pressure of certain societal expectations, the Splash half explores Reigen's colorless life...awkward university mistakes, the 9 - 5 and the inherent awkwardness of that early 20s life... the sexual experimentation, the trying to define self, feeling like he's loosing himself and is a blob etc etc until Cue Mob and the rest, we know, is history!

Jump to post canon and several variations of Dimple's joke of "wow you're so lucky, you're bound to die horribly." and "how are you so wildly lucky?!" later and we see Reigen thinks about those jokes more than he thought he would...because all this time, he's been living with not only a bit of survivor's guilt (survived what is a bit of a spoiler).... but also:

he has been living over shadowed / haunted by something Reigen's grandfather said to Reigen at a young age... keeping in mind that my HC of young Reigen in this fic is: a bland flop of a kid, with anger issues...which makes him a bit rowdy. No middle ground. He's either picking fights flapping his big mouth with Opinions and Thoughts, or staying so below the radar people forget he's in the room.

“If you keep this up,” Reigen [given name tbd] said flicking lightly at the butterfly bandaid on Arataka’s face, sneering as he flinched, “you won’t live past 31.” Arataka’s mouth was a twisted line. He refused to cry, refused to blink, refused to act on the bubbling resenting anger that was rising in his belly. The instinct to kick shins. In a practiced level tone, Arataka smiled, almost cruelly, and said, “we’ll see about that.”

Later, older, at age 30:

Was there magic behind his grandfather's words? He wasn’t sure. Perhaps not at first. Perhaps they were merely words spittled out by a senile old man. But he had thought of those words. For hours upon hours days upon days. Each time he showed great luck, or his mother, or someone would ruminate out loud about his phenomenal luck, something would have to counter balance it. Something dreadful. Something when he’s 31. And perhaps those thoughts those idle phrases that lingering belief caused something to manifest. Reigen snuffed his finished cigarette into his ash tray and clicked his tongue. Perhaps this was a sign he should go to bed.

I'm absolutely fascinated by the potentiality behind Reigen...his past, and his relationship with his family. And while I see and appreciate the catharsis of writing Reigen's family as 'bad people' I've found so much fun in writing the Reigen family as just awkward, complex, and horrible at communicating with each other - among other things. I have so many emotions behind them!

ANYWAYS the fic It sounds darker than it probably will end up being, like yes it's very serious and approaches mature themes, but like the majority of my work - it's also about kindness, and hope, the exhilaration of aging, that it's good actually to survive and the unknown possibilities that could wait ahead of us if we keep powering through, keep trying to better ourselves and grow, and move forward!

Fight on!

I hope this made sense haha, thank you so much again for the ask! ♡

Best wishes!♡ ___〆(・∀・)

#Nico responds #metukika #progress report #wip ask game #wip ask #Reigen Arataka #Arataka Reigen

[dyrewrites]

No more facts about ourselves, we are boring fleshbags, I want to hear about imaginary people.

What are four facts about your oldest OC? Even if they're no longer in use, forgotten, discarded, tell me about them.

Then go ask four other people about theirs, if you want, I'm not your mother. (Right back at ya, hehe.)

(haha, nice)

Well, I already answered for my oldest. So we'll go with second oldest, who is also still in use but greatly altered (and, surprisingly not the other one's brother, he came third).

This one's going to be fun, and weird, because this guy comes with baggage. It also does end up being more about me than him, but hopefully it'll be amusing to see where my sad tree man got his start.

Today we talk about Delgrij, who was originally a pretty vampire man that I created to roleplay as (online, in chatrooms, I am old) in order to do filthy things with a friend of mine's character (she was also roleplaying a man, and we do not delve into the obsessions of preteen girls and so I will say no more).

I had never roleplayed before creating him, so he was my first for that (no one would let me roleplay as Mitra until I was well into my teens and by then it was in-person and I got to laugh like a demented squirrel).

He has always been named Delgrij, and I have no idea where I got the name. It just popped into my head, I do not remember his last name but I am sure it was terrible. Now his last name is Ru'nai Nuemnin, which translates to "Impurething Hurtmade Darkprayer" which is also terrible, because the edgy preteen still broods in my soul.

He used to be a narcissistic monster with a ridiculous ego and a tendency to take what wasn't offered, and ignore any variations of the word "no". Using his power to get what he wanted, when he wanted it, and convincing the one he took it from that they also wanted it. (many of these qualities were given to another character when Delgrij outgrew them)

This one is less about the character and more because of, but I accidentally catfished a middle-aged woman while roleplaying as him online. I was in character and she didn't understand what kind of roleplaying the chatroom was for or that the profile was for a fictitious person (odd how the vampire bit didn't raise any flags). We "dated" for months before I told my dad and he said I had to tell her. (she was a nice lady who was just lonely and I remember our interactions fondly...but it was still wrong)

All of his trauma is new and I am fairly certain they came from the way I used to roleplay him. Because of me, many of the places I roleplayed had to implement special signs (roleplayed actions) that acted, essentially, like safe words so that other players could bow out without questions when things got too intense. I think my subconscious is trying to punish him, or me, for that.

#asks #oc asks #I brought this on myself #he is now my softest cinnamon bun but it is still far too easy to get into the headspace of who he used to be #which is why I have Parnamyr now

[lealbrechtsen2]

ostrich birkin 8

Hermes Birkin Ostrich Her long black tresses had been parted in the middle and worn down in a sleek fashion. I was in search of a cartier love bracelet and I happened to come back across TF on-line. A little hesitant at first but went forward and proceeded with the acquisition. Birkin had simply positioned her straw travelling bag within the overhead compartment for her seat, but the contents fell to the deck, leaving her to scramble to switch them. Birkin explained to Dumas that it had been tough to find a leather weekend bag she appreciated. If there's something wrong with the item, it should stay in the same condition as sent, so our staff can establish the problem. DO NOT remove the tags or stickers connected to the gadgets. The objects must be returned the same way it was shipped in order for our group to evaluation it. If tags are eliminated, we is not going to accept the return. As is the case for different Hermes merchandise, the Birkin is handmade by an unique craftsman all through the whole process. Crafting one bag takes round 20 hours and solely extremely expert workers may fit on Birkins. The Birkin bag of Hermes is the first it bag bearing the name of a star. In 1983, Hermes CEO Jean-Louis Dumas was seated subsequent to Jane Birkin on a flight from Paris to London. All my future time piece purchases might be made with True Facet. It is type of uncommon in this unique variety of vibrant Rouge Vif Ostrich skin with palladium hardware, which combined collectively is excellent and lovely. Ostrich pores and skin is unmistakable in appearance due to the raised bumps from the quill follicles of the ostrich. If you are interested in consigning in future auctions, please contact the specialist division. If you might have queries about lots purchased in this auction, please contact buyer providers. With its exclusivity, luxurious materials, and craftsmanship, no wonder the Hermes Birkin bag has created a resale market that’s simply as lucrative as the unique. If you’re wanting to get your arms on a Birkin and bypass the waitlist, attempt your luck within the resale market. This Kelly, within the Sellier style, is in Bleuet Ostrich with gold hardware and has tonal stitching, two straps with front toggle closure, clochette with lock and two keys, single rolled deal with and detachable shoulder strap. Impeccable Hermès Birkin bag within the finest vibrant Rouge Vif ostrich leather-based with palladium hardware. Hermès luggage are thought-about the last word luxurious merchandise worldwide. Each piece is handcrafted with a waitlists that may exceed a 12 months or extra for the bovine variations. The last of our trio of ostrich luggage is a superb Hermes Birkin 30 Raisin Ostrich. As with the other bags featured right now, the bag is crafted from unique and distinctive ostrich pores and skin, nevertheless, this time the skin has been dyed a rare raisin colour. This photograph represents the true relationship of a man with nature. The gold plating was added to the automotive post his purchase. Flo Rida has proved that you don’t have to be a billionaire to own this stunning beauty on wheels. According to Bloomberg, this was purchased by an nameless purchaser from Paul Pappalardo, a creative patent legal professional in a non-public transaction. The painting is the paintings of famous French artist Paul Cezzane that's presently owned by the Royal family of Al Thani of Qatar. This rarest of uncommon portray was gained by Qatar for 275 million dollars in its effort to become a global mental hub. Many individuals prefer Black hermes birkin ostrich bags, but fashion is all about individuality — you'll find Brown, Orange and extra options on these pages. There aren’t many objects for unisex if you’re looking for these accessories, as many of the choices obtainable are for women and men. Madison Avenue Couture is doubtless one of the world’s most trusted unbiased sellers and curators of Hermes and Chanel handbags and equipment. wikipedia hermes ostrich Madison Avenue Couture just isn't affiliated with, nor a licensed boutique of, the manufacturers we sell. In latest years, mini baggage have turn into fashionable; thus, Birkin 30cm’s and 25cm’s have turn into more popular. Ostrich Birkins are normally produced in and hottest in 30cm size. Insanely stunning PARCHEMIN ostrich with Palladium hardware. skel.io hermes ostrich birkin As the world made the change from horse to vehicle, the bag adapted, becoming a multifunctional travel satchel as a substitute of a delegated saddlebag. Today, one hundred twenty years later, the HAC remains in Hermès’s line — and its distinctive flap and clasping straps have laid the groundwork for some of the house’s different iconic luggage. Hermes Blue Roi Ostrich Reintroduced shade for 2021 Absolutely stunning! Goes with so many other colours This Birkin is in ostrich leather with gold hardware and has tonal stitchin...

#ostrich birkin #birkin ostrich bag #hermes ostrich bag #hermes ostrich birkin #hermes kelly ostrich #hermes birkin ostrich bag #pink ostrich birkin bag #ostrich kelly bag #mini kelly ostrich #birkin 25 ostrich #kelly ostrich #replica hermes ostrich bag

[nochuvalencia]

𝐁 𝐁 𝐇 𝐌 𝐌 - jjk

I was basically inspired by these ^^^ pics of jk bc wow hot hi

⚠️ ALSO QUICK DISCLAIMER :: this is my first fanfic on here so it might be terrible but enjoy anyway. ⚠️

𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 :: reader x crimeboss!jk

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 :: bitch you better have his money.

𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦 :: ABSOLUTE SMUTTY FILTH heh angst too ig

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 :: 11.9k

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 :: long haired tatted jk, that’s it, that’s the warning, uh kinda sketchy plot hsjsjsj, WOW ANGST ASF at the beginning tho, dub!con towards the middle don’t hurt me, fuck or die ig, gunplay????? yeah????? jks BLATANT OVERUSE of pet names, dacryphillia, major-ish character death, describing the injuries on a dead body, jk has a sir kink ig??? um excessive over exaggerated choking bc jks hands yum, explicit seggs, rough jk, he’s kinda mean, dom!jk, sub!reader, oral m&f receiving (facefucking on both ends), coochie sniff if you squint, coochie slaps if u squint too, spanking, OVERSTIMULATION, unprotected seggs, degradation, he calls her a bitch once idk, other bad names, praise too ig, jk gives an ultimatum, SLIGHT aftercare, he kinda like switches from flirty to murderous like a bunch of times it’s kinda weird, jk has an impossibly huge shlong obv, contemplating death, super mature themes, reader is a BIG fucking crybaby, overuse of the word fuck, corruption kink at the end if u squint super hard, also DUB!CON in case you didn’t see it, at this point I should just write what it doesn’t have

“If you’re not out of my house in 3.4 seconds, I'm dragging you out by the testicles” you uttered, your alarmingly calm voice laced with raw brutality as hot tears cascaded down your burning cheeks, your arm outstretched and pointed toward the blinding light of the hallway that contrasted with your dark bedroom. You said nothing more, with your eyes trained angrily at one of the four blank tan walls nearby, not possibly being able to bear speaking to or sparing a glance into the eyes of a cheating whore. The woman you had just caught him with scurried past you wearily, a terrified and confused glint in her eyes as she passed your frigid frame sans underwear, with her sparkly silver pumps dangling from her fingers and a wrinkly silver dress hanging limply from the clutches of her other hand. The man in question shuffled cautiously around the bed, clutching the exposed parts of his body and approaching you with extreme hesitation and outstretched hands, as if trying to calm the already blazing flames of your fury. He laid a cold, rough hand on your shoulder squeezing softly, a motion that once brought you comfort but only added the all consuming hatred that bubbled up inside you akin to ravenous bile filling up the pit of your belly. “Did you not hear what I said? Get out.” You spat, glossy eyes still pointed toward anything but him.

“____ please” he croaked, like the slimy frog he truly was, his voice dripping in false agony which only neared you closer to the brink of undoubtedly committing an act of extreme violence against that man. “Please baby it wasn’t-'' you blanked. He was about to make an excuse. A stupid, rediculous, horrible, completely false excuse which you had absolutely no patience to hear. So you snapped, harshly shrugging your shoulder and sending his arm flying back to his side. He stepped back, ceasing his incessant chatter as he stared at you, a surprised expression painting his “pained” features. He wasn’t accustomed to you acting like this, you were never one to raise your voice or act out in any sort of way so he stood there, eyes widened in dumbfounded silence and you took this chance, bending down, scooping up as much of his discarded clothing as you possibly could and throwing it in his face, your rage bubbling over into something much more carnal as you inhaled deeply through your nose.

“Shut the fuck up and leave!” He scrambled to catch as many clothes as he could and was taken aback by your abrupt outburst. He stood silent once again though this time, he was making the face he often made when forcing himself to cry. It was the face he made around his mother to get out of family responsibilities. The face he made around his friends when guilt tripping them into buying him drinks, and now he's using it for you. To guilt you into taking pity on his pathetic actions which merely was the catalyst for your unforgiving violence. In an instant you were behind him, heaving him out of the door with your bare hands, pushing with all your might, using the immense pain coursing through your limbs as motivation to drive his beefy frame further and further out of the bedroom, down the hallway, into the living room and closer to the door yelling “I said leave! Leave! Now!” Pushing harder and harder with every word you choked out. The tears began to flow faster, clouding and distorting your vision as your face contorted into an expression of pure anguish until finally, he was forced out of the open doorway and into the main hallway of your apartment building. You promptly slammed the door in his face and the only thought traveling though your mind was ‘thank god she left that door open’ because you wouldn’t have been able to force him through it otherwise.

You stood silently for a few seconds, back to the door, face still slick with tears as the cool wood on your back shook senselessly with every beat of his fist and muffled shout of his voice crying phrases like “____ open the fuking door!” , “this is my apartment too baby come on” and other variations of the sort. Your mind was empty while you remained there, letting the harsh reality sink in like the slowest molasses. You allowed that man, that pig, to take 10 years of your life. 10 years of your prime. 10 years that you'll never get back no matter how much you beg and plead for it. Come to think of it, you had shaped your entire life around him. His influence was there no matter how much you wished it wasn’t. His residue staining your life like the blackest ink of which you would never be able to rid yourself. At the surfacing of these thoughts, you’d finally broke down and cried, like ugly cried. Broken heaves and sobs escaped your throat until you felt like you were suffocating as you slid down the door, not caring if he heard your wails and whines of torment on the other side of the polished mahogany. You actually hoped he did hear, you wanted him to hear the anguish and grief he put you through. You wanted him to hear you cry out all of your attachment and love for him until there was none left, so he knows the tears flowing from your body hold all of the affection you harbor for him. All ten years of attraction flowing out in a gigantic tsunami of grief that can only end in a new start.

Your mind played through all the memories, and the small amount of good times you had with each other while you sobbed mercilessly, also coming to the realization that he never did anything for you. Ever since you were 14 you’d been changing everything about yourself for him, while he merely lived his life, dragging you along like a supportive little puppy and rewarding you with cheap token gifts and mediocre sex once in a blue moon.

He wanted to attend university in your hometown so you abandoned your dream school, which accepted you, to attend a closer college. He made the decision to study abroad, so you had to drop everything and move to Australia for him. He wanted to wait to have kids so you froze your fucking eggs for him. He got a great new job at a large company in Asia, so you dropped everything again and moved to South Korea. You learned Korean for him. You have the same friends as him. You even cut a few family members off because he was “uncomfy” around them. He wouldn’t even go down on you because it also made him ‘uncomfy’, which should’ve been a red flag from the start. You did all of this bullshit in the haze of love. The promise that he’d reciprocate all of it in affection and adoration, which he didn’t, and now you’re sitting in your living room bawling your brains out because you were too lovestruck to see the signs.

After sobbing hysterically for what seemed like hours, you’d sat limply in front of your door, slouching back onto it as if it were a plush armchair and staring blankly into space, your mind completely empty. Feeling overwhelmed and exhausted beyond belief, you leaned forward, groaning in anguish as your tired muscles cried out in distress after being immobile for more than four hours. Crawling over to the couch, you tiredly flung your nearly paralyzed body onto the soft cushions with a sigh, not even bothering to pull the fluffy throw blanket over your body as your entire frame began to steadily shut down. Before your eyes completely shut, you caught a glimpse of the clock perched on the wooden tv stand which read 11:11 and scoffing quietly as you thought to yourself, ‘I thought that was supposed to mean good luck’ and you gave in to the delicious expanse of slumber.

You were startled awake by the incessant pounding of your now ex-boyfriends fist on the door, again. For the past 4 days since you’d forced him out, he’d show up outside your door at the ass crack of dawn just banging on the door profusely, as if that would persuade you to open it an inch. He had a schedule, he’d come at 5am, before he went off to work, then at 12:30 on his lunch break, then again at 9:45 just to make you miserable before you went to bed. You’re actually surprised the neighbors haven’t complained to the landlords yet. You tossed the blanket off of your sticky body, kicking and thrashing wildly due to the annoyance caused by that nuisance.

You cried more times than you can count during these last 4 days, especially during the times he would attempt to win you over with sappy shit like “baby, you’re my everything, you’re all i’ve ever wanted”, the lyrics to one of your favorite songs or, “you’re my forever ____, you can’t just throw 10 years away babe” to which you cried about for 3 hours after he’d said it, after realizing that he actually wasted 10 fucking years of your life. Anger bubbled up in the pit of your stomach as you listened to the repetitive banging of his fist and at this point you had enough and came to the decision it was finally time to pack his shit. Stomping into the living room, you grabbed a necessary box of bags that sat on the coffee table in the center of the room, figuring you were ready to use it. With a final nod of your head, you marched into your shared bedroom and opened all of the cabinets and drawers that contained the plethora of his belongings and flinging them on the floor, grabbing the box of xl trash bags you’d snagged on your march in here and started tossing things in left and right, not caring about the brand name or the state of the fabric or anything for that matter. All you saw was red as your eyes welled up with tears for the first and probably not last time that day.

“I can’t do this” you sobbed out, voice hoarse as you fell to your knees, ignoring the rugburn that was soon to form on those areas as your shoulders shook with every harsh breath you took. You had been dreading this task. Dreading it only for its significance that once you packed all his things and tossed them out, your relationship would be truly over. You definitely didn’t want him back but this would be the first time you’ve been alone in 10+ years and you were not certain you were prepared for that let alone wanting it. Inhaling shakily, you sniffed, ridding your face of any moisture as you cleared your throat and walked back into the kitchen, grabbing the bottle of chardonnay from your anniversary that fell on the week prior and venturing back into the closet to resume your task. You weren’t much of a drinker but for this task, you’d need a bottle or two.

A few hours later, he’d finally went off to work and you sat in the doorway of the closet, drunkenly dressed in the wedding gown you were made to be wed in this summer still combing through all of his clothing and tossing them messily into a bag that laid open on the floor beside you. You took a swig from the bottle, hissing softly at the satisfying burn that seared it’s way down your throat and rubbing at your puffy eyes with the knuckle of your index finger. The closet was mostly bare, except for a rack with some of his clothes and one rack of semi-expensive clothing his cheap ass reluctantly purchased for you and you glanced around, catching a glimpse of some ugly floral fabric in the corner of the small space. Getting on your hands and knees you reached a limp hand out, taking hold of the horrendous fabric and dragging it out with a groan, eyes wide at the surprising heft of the object in your hand.

It was a pillowcase. A pillowcase full of something brick shaped. You raised an eyebrow quizzically before reaching into the bag and pulling out a fat stack of cash. Taking a sharp intake of breath you paused, staring blankly at the wrapped wad in your hand and cocking your head to the side. You peeked over into the bag after a few minutes, eyes popping out of your skull as they feasted on more huge stacks of money. It was Korean currency but there had to be at least 250k USD worth in the entire sack. You furrowed your brows, tossing the money back into the pillowcase forcefully as a tornado of thoughts whirled in your mind. Had he been saving behind your back? Was he planning on getting rich then eventually hanging you out to dry for some younger girl? How long has he had all of this? Where the fuck did it all come from?

You looked back at the money then back at the corner you found it in, squinting as you spotted some more ugly purple fabric. Crawling behind the clothing earnestly, you managed to fish out 4 more pillowcases full of money. You stifled a laugh, having never been in the presence of so much currency, you guessed it had to be more than 1 million dollars. You smiled for the first time in 4 days, lips curling up into a wide joy filled expression as you dumped all of the money onto the rugged floor of the closet. With all of the alcohol coursing through your veins, (almost a whole bottle) you didn’t hesitate to grab the biggest tote bag you own and stuff as much money as it could hold inside. You figured it was the least he could do after cheating on you.

He deserved to pay, and you obviously deserved a raise.

It was a full on shopping spree. After throwing all of his shit into bags, you tossed them outside your door and left with as much money as you could carry before he could come back on his lunch break. You even came back to get some more money, just to go out and spend it again. To say you splurged would be an understatement, you spent almost half of the money on clothes, shoes, a hair and makeup appointment, a manicure, a new car, and you even paid rent for six months after taking his name off the lease.

So here you were, struggling up the stairs as quick as you could, due to the fact that it was 9:30 and you were trying to avoid seeing him at his 9:45 visit. Your feet screamed in agony in your new jimmy choo pumps, because you’d been on them all day, and you had at least six shopping bags hanging from each arm, all full with an assortment of gaudy items such as shoe boxes, makeup products, and clothing. You had finally reached the door after a while, smiling at the absence of his bags which meant he took them and swiftly unlocked the door, clamoring in and tiredly dropping the bags in your hands. With a sigh, you locked the door, running a hand through your freshly styled hair as you rid your face of the designer sunglasses that shielded it. Kicking off your shoes, you hummed gratifyingly at the pleasurable feeling of bare feet and shuffled over to your couch, plopping down on the end cushion groggily.

A soft buzz in your back pocket caught your attention as you carefully fished out the new phone you purchased and unlocked it with your perfectly manicured fingers, raising an eyebrow quizzically as the texts rolled in, ‘i thought i blocked him’ you thought, preparing to do it a second time before a few texts caught your attention and you froze on the spot, chuckling heartlessly at his words.

[phone] : whose car is in our parking spot?

[phone] : did you already move on?

[phone] : wow whore

You rolled your eyes, wondering where he attained the gaul to accuse you of a feat such as that. Calling you a whore as if that name isn’t suitable for himself. Even more so than you. You decided to text him back, feeding off of an unknown source of confidence as your fingers furiously tapped along the screen.

me : it’s my car asshole

me : bought it with the money u left me

me :thx baby <3

[phone] : what money?

me : the money in the closet you didn’t bother telling me abt u dumb fuck

[phone] : don’t use that money

me : why should i listen to you?

me : you aren’t my bf

[phone] : no seriously ____ don’t use that money wtf is wrong with u

me : already did bye babe

You blocked him as quickly as you could, face burning with absolute anger as you tossed your phone on the cushion beside you. Who is he to tell you what you could or couldn’t do? You had come to the decision then and there that you wouldn't let him treat you like a child. He wasn’t your dad. Thanks to him you barely speak to your dad. The only thought going through your mind at the time was ‘fuck him.’ Before you could delve into your thoughts any further, it started. His incessant pounding on the door. Again. Although, this time it was much more frantic, desperate. He was much louder with his pathetic pleas and whines, crying out “please don’t use that money!”, “Listen to me god damn it!”, “___ open the fucking door now!” But you stood your ground, ignoring him once again as you did for the past few days.

Just to escape the racket of his wails of desperation, you retreated to your room, slipping on one of his expensive balenciaga sweatshirts you kept for yourself and climbing into the cool blankets, burying yourself under the plush fabric and folding your pillow over your ears. You knew this would be the longest night of your life..

And you were correct, It was the longest night of your life. He never truly got the memo that you would not be coming out to communicate with him so he finally left at around 1:30 in the morning. You had slept horribly, tossing and turning as the aftermath of his cries and pleads left a print on your mind and tormented you at all hours of the night, you didn’t manage to get any real sleep until around eight and woke up a mere five hours later in a state of confusion. It was well past noon and yet it was silent, you had woken up of your own volition, not because of some crazy man outside of your apartment screaming like a banshee. In due time, you had come to the conclusion that he had finally given up and gone about his day without banging on his ex-girlfriend's apartment door like an idiot at all hours of the day.

This theory was almost set in your mind until you heard a knock. Groaning violently, you stared up at your ceiling, eyebrows furrowed as you erased that theory from the whiteboard in your cortex. Fully prepared to ignore the person at the door, you rolled over to your side until another knock was heard. This wasn’t him. This couldn’t be him. The knocks were way too soft, they lacked an element of urgency, desperation. They were simply just way too calm. So, you sat up, swinging your legs over and reluctantly standing up, before making your way into the living room to be greeted with another knock and a smooth male voice calling out. “Miss ___ ___?”

You glanced wearily though your peep hole to be met with a tall male, dressed in a blue and white uniform. “Looks like a cop. He called the fucking cops on me, shit.” you whispered to yourself, voice small as you held onto the door handle. Figuring it’d be worse to make him wait, you opened the door, being met with the warm, dimpled smile, of the decorated individual. “Yes, i”m ____” you respond, shoving your hands into the pockets of your sweatshirt and looking everywhere but him, which probably seems more suspicious than anything but you were too riddled with anxiety to care. The officer clutched a navy blue manilla folder in his hand and opened it promptly in order to sift through its contents.

“Hi, i’m officer Kim.” he breathed out, calmly bowing and resuming his apparent spiel, “do you know this man?” he pondered, raising an eyebrow quizzically as he pulled a photo from his folder with calloused fingers and lifted it, spinning it around to face you. Your eyes widened slightly upon being shown a picture of your ex and you nodded hesitantly.

“He’s my ex boyfriend- well ex fiance I guess.” you responded, voice barely audible as your mind raced faster than the speed of sound. You asked yourself what he could’ve done that was bad enough for the police to show up at your door. Maybe you had been too harsh on him and he had gotten into one to many bar fights, maybe he robbed a bank at gunpoint, maybe he stole some old lady’s car and filled it with off brand mayonnaise before he returned it. All your questions- all your thoughts stopped as Officer Kim responded, running a tired hand through his hair.

“He passed, earlier today.” he paused, giving you time to digest things and you froze, staring at his face blankly as your mind processed what you had just been told and you hummed questioningly, your throat becoming tight with realization. “It happened around five this morning,” he paused again as you stood in complete silence. Sure you hated him but you’d never wish death upon another person, especially him. You hate him now but you were in love with him once too. You hate him now but, he was the closest person in your life. He was all of your firsts, your fiance, your best friend. You thought you wouldn’t be able to get all of that back because of the breakup but now you truly can never get any of it back, because he’s dead. Then, you started to cry, for the hundredth time this week but this one was different. You weren’t crying because you missed him, or wanted him to come back like all the other times, as horrible as it sounds. You were crying because you felt bad. Because of his short life that was ripped from him by the unforgiving hand of death. You weren’t crying because of him, you were crying for him. A hand on your shoulder interrupted your sobs and you wiped your face, glancing up at the culprit with glassy eyes. “I’m so sorry for your loss...” he paused, giving you a few moments to breathe as he rubbed your shoulder comfortingly before speaking again, “but we have an idea of who did it, it would be helpful if you just came down to the station with me for some questioning.” he asked softly as the shaking sobs and whimpers that came from your body slowed to a halt and you nodded.

“Yeah, uh. Let me just go get dressed.” You muttered, smiling up at him softly and shuffling back to your room to prepare. The longest night of your life was about to turn into the longest day.

And you were correct again as you stood in front of your apartment door after the absolute, and I cannot stress this enough, longest day of your life. Your ex was murdered, brutally, and they made sure to go over all of the gory details with you while you were at the precinct, they even took you to see his body, which made you cry because it was mangled almost beyond recognition and you were horrified. Apparently, he had been tortured for hours, which explained all the bruises, gashes, and burn marks on his body, strangled, thus the huge ring shaped mark around his neck, and dumped into a river, which made his body all pruny and wrinkled. You had spent 10 long hours at the police precinct and it was now nearing midnight as you fished your keys from your pocket in order to unlock the door. Inserting your key, you jiggle it around in the lock for a minute before realizing it was already unlocked initially. Figuring you had left it unlocked accidentally in your depressed haze, you pushed your way into your apartment and locked it promptly, pressing your forehead into the cool wood of the door. You sighed softly, relaxing only for a minute as you absorbed your surroundings before freezing as you heard the rhythmic tapping of someone's foot.

“Long day huh?” the voice was deep, one you hadn’t heard before as you remained facing the door, your grip of the handle tightening until your knuckles turned white. He spoke again, “you must be ____.” he murmured softly, sending a terrified shudder down your spine. “I’ve been wanting to meet you but he said you were off limits. You know, he talks about you a lot-...” he stopped himself as if realizing something, “well talked, I mean.” the man mused, an ominous chuckle flowing from his mouth.

“Who are you?” you rasped, attempting to conceal any cowardice but blinking your eyes harshly as your voice broke. You vaguely hoped this was one of your ex’s friends coming to visit, at an odd hour of the night, sitting ominously in the dark of your apartment waiting for you to come home just to say hi but the chances of that actuality was very slim.

“None of your business” the man retorted, a smirk evident in his ominous tone. “Now, let’s get down to business little dove,” you furrowed your brows at the nickname. You had never been called a nickname, especially by a man who randomly just snuck into your apartment one night. Your ex only ever called you baby or babe so little dove was different for you. It seemed endearing in the worst type of way. “I want the rest of my money.” he paused, “I found half of it in a closet here, and he said you might know where the rest is.” he paused again, only this time a sound is heard, a metal rattling of some sort that ricochets off of the walls of the apartment like a stray jumping bean in a pill case. Then it hits you, he has a gun, and he just shook it as if he intends to use it. . “Don’t make me ask again sweetheart.” Your eyes widen and well up as your head falls down, knowing you're going to die today and you take a deep breath, telling yourself you’d be ready for whatever happens so you decide, if you’re gonna die, you should at least know the name of the man that’s gonna kill you so you scrape together every last drop of confidence you can muster and ask once more.

“I said, w-who are yo-” you choked out, in an attempt to hold onto the last shred of your dignity as you blinked back the tears threatening to fall from your glassy eyes. However, your small shred of confidence is promptly ripped from your grasp as the man cuts you off mid sentence, slamming his gun down onto a hard surface with a loud clatter. You jolt, crying out softly as the tears you’d been holding back with all your might fall onto the ground before you.

“I said none of your fucking business bitch where’s my fucking money.” he spat, his sinister tone draing a choked sob from your thoat as you realized, you wouldn’t be getting anything you wanted today. “Answer me” he said, alarmingly calm as the sound of him cocking his gun travels directly to your mind.

“I spent it” you muttered between your soft hiccups and stiffened slightly upon hearing a heavy footstep approach you, then another footstep, and another, and another until they cease, and you can feel the man's warm breath raising the hair on the back of your neck. All your readiness for whatever happens and willingness to die flies out of the window as you lean your head on the door once more, taking a shaky breath as you begin to plead, aware of how pathetic you sound and part of the reason why you have such a strong urge to cry harder. “Please don’t kill me” you whined desperately as you feel the cold metal of the gun barrel resting on your shoulder.

“Relax little dove” he whispered, his lips brushing the back of your ear and sending a chill rushing through the entire expanse of your body. “Just find a way to pay me back and we’re even,” he continued calmly, his raspy voice reverberating in your eardrums as you think through what he just said carefully. You gasp and sniffle, shaking your head softly and lifting it slowly from the wooden door frame.

“I-” you stopped, taking a deep breath and preparing yourself as much as you could for his response then opened your mouth to continue. “I don’t have that kind of money” you whispered hesitantly, shutting your eyes tightly, allowing nothing to escape but the numerous tears that fell to the ground in anticipation of his actions. There was an eerie silence as he contemplated your words before he abruptly turned away, lifting the gun from your shoulder and holstering it in the waistband of his jeans, causing you to let out a wavering breath you’d been holding that entire time. His hand traveled back up, taking refuge on your left shoulder as the other hand made its way up your right arm, the warmth setting your skin aflame and sending a shockwave of warmth coursing through your body.

“There is another way you could pay me back.” his velvet voice rasped, stressing the word ‘another’ in a way that you immediately understood his insinuation and you took a sharp intake of air, bracing yourself for what he was about to say next. But he didn’t say anything for a moment, letting his hands do the talking for him as he gripped your arms softly, using his hands to spin you around and face him. You whirled around, yelping in surprise but stopping when you were met with the most exquisite, carnivorous brown eyes you had ever seen in your life that were accompanied by full pink lips and a tousled bunch of fluffy black hair you just wanted to run your hands through. Even in the darkness of night, the moonlight streaming through the kitchen window illuminated the room enough for you to trail your eyes down his face and get a vivid idea of what he’d look like with illumination.

Yummy as fuck.

Your eyes began to wander down to his exposed collarbone and before they could travel any lower, his fingers roughly grabbed your chin, forcing your gaze upward until you met his borderline cannibalistic gaze, which crushed you into nothing. He cocked his head to the side, a mischievous glint in his eyes as the corner of his lips turn upward slightly. “He was always bragging about you… saying,” he speaks, his sultry tone lulling you into a state of compliance as he spoke, “you’re such a good fuck,” he continues, placing his left hand gently on your waist and stepping even closer, if that’s possible, his soft breath hitting your face with every word as he speaks. “Your sweet little cunt is so tight” he glances down at your lips, running his thumb over your bottom lip “your mouth feels like heaven” he pauses again, running his hand down to hold the side of your neck softly to which you gasp “maybe i’d like a demonstration little dove.” he smiles, a twisted horrifying smile that snaps you out of his seductive trance and back to reality as your eyes widen and you pull yourself quickly out of his hold, running over to the couch and bracing yourself on it.

“No” you cry out, out of breath for some reason as you swallow thickly and shake your head. “No, I'll find a way to pay you back, I promise.” you plead, praying he wasn’t going to kill you on the spot and that he hadn’t noticed your blatant ogling. He probably did but at this point you didn’t care, you just wanted him gone.

“Whatever you say sweetheart” he replied, emitting a dark chuckle “call me if you change your mind, my number’s in your phone” he opened the front door and you glanced back at him, noticing the way his all black attire contrasts with his tan skin, and most of all, you notice the full sleeve of tattoos that ran down his right arm. Heat crawled up to your face as you realized you were gawking again and you nodded in response, feeling unable to form the words to respond with. He only uttered the words “you have a week.” before the door slammed and you were left alone in the dark.

You ran your fingers along the side of your neck where the aftermath of his touch lingered like a searing residue. No one had ever touched you like that, especially your ex. He was the man that took your virginity and was the man there for every time after so you’d become accustomed to his textbook missionary vanilla sex that left you touch starved and unfinished every. single. time. But you’d finish yourself off each time, feeling bad because you thought he was trying his hardest and truly didn’t understand how to please women. But as time went on, you realized he didn’t care about your pleasure and too enveloped in his own release to ever worry about your needs, but were too deep in love with him to care.

Your thoughts were interrupted when your phone went off to signal a text and upon picking it up there were two text messages from an unknown number that sent a shiver down your spine which read.

[phone] : don’t try to run

[phone] : we’ll hunt you down little dove

“Can’t you just take the shit back?” You questioned frantically, clutching the phone by your head until your knuckles turned white, rolling your eyes tiredly when you got no response. “They hung up, great” you deadpanned, plopping onto the couch you had been pacing in front of. It has been 6 days since the man showed up and you were running out of time and hadn’t slept in two days, your mind running frantically with the thought of him coming back to see you nearly empty handed. Well, not exactly empty handed. You had managed to get 253k of the whopping +400k dollars you had spent of his money and after not being able to return the car, manicure, hair appointment, rent, and a bunch of clothes and shoes, you were manic. Some might even say a bit crazy. Many of the stores and the dealership knew you by name because of the amount of times you called them. You dropped your phone into your lap, burying your face in your hands and wishing someone was here to console you through this but the only person you knew even remotely enough to offer any consolation was your ex. You wish he was alive so you could punch that bitch in the face and ask him what kind of shit he got himself into because the man that paid you a visit was most definitely not from corporate.

You sat for a silent minute deliberating if you should text the mystery man and take him up on his offer. You had asked yourself, is it really worth your life? Were you really going to die because you didn’t want to sleep with the hot guy you stole money from? The answer at first was yes because you still had your pride intact then but now, you had been starting to second guess your confidence in getting all the money back. After all, the deadline is tomorrow. You still had your hesitations, the only man who has ever seen you in such a lewd nature was your ex. You didn’t know if you were ready for sex with another person, even if he was the hottest man you’d ever seen. But, against your better nature, you convinced yourself that your ex was gone and this was bound to happen sooner or later, so why not sooner?

You grabbed your phone in earnest before anything inside you could convince you to stop and unlocked it, opening the messages for his number and typing out your text, hitting send before any sort of regret had the chance to sink in.

me : i’ll take your offer

me : this is ____ btw

You placed your phone down on the couch cushions beside you and chewed nervously on the not so fresh manicure that was still on your nails. To your surprise, his reply came in quickly and you frantically reached for your phone as the dings came rolling in.

[phone] : i know who you are

[phone] : i'll be there in 20

[phone] : be ready sweetheart

Your heart thumped restlessly as you shot up from your seat shouting “twenty minutes?!” and you cried out nervously. You hadn’t even seen his face in good lighting and you didn't know his name so you’d basically be fucking a complete stranger which scared you enough as it is but the fact that that stranger held you at gunpoint merely a week prior is what scared you shitless.

In the limited time that he gave you, you decided to freshen up a bit so you hopped in the shower. Your first shower in a few days after your psychotic state worsened. Humming in bliss, you relished in the feeling of the scalding water flowing over your skin as you took your time washing , shaving, and singing, in an attempt to rid yourself of the horrendous nerves that overtook your senses. After reluctantly stepping out of the steamy oasis, you’d decided on a white lingerie set you had gotten yourself for christmas but never got to wear for anyone because your significant other was always “working” or too tired/busy to take the time of day for you. Pairing the set with a matching white silk robe and not bothering to wear any shoes because you’re in your own house, you slicked your lips in a thick coat of gloss and applied some mascara and eyeliner to your tired eyes just to spruce up a bit. You figured, if you put effort into your appearance, then maybe he’d spare your life after the sex. You stared at yourself in the mirror, tying your robe, smacking your glossed lips together and ogling your appearance before a soft knocking was heard from the living room. “He’s here” you told yourself with a deep shaky breath as you vacated the bathroom and slowly ventured toward the door.

You stood silently before the front door, contemplating whether this was a mistake or if it was too late to turn back. As much as you hated to admit, there was no logical solution to your problem that was in compliance with any standing laws. Heck, what you were doing was probably illegal in everywhere but Las Vegas so you had no other choice than to twist the handle, open the door and stare up at the most alluring man you had ever laid eyes on. You ran your eyes all over his body, studying him, his features, his gorgeous eyes, impeccable nose, plush lips, smooth hair, and strong arms that lead to a presumed strong chest hidden under his plain white tee. He noticed you blatantly checking him out to which he placed a finger on your chin, lifting your face up so your eyes met and making you watch as he rolled his bottom lip into his mouth, sucking on it for a moment. Oh how you wished that was your lip.

“You ready little dove?” he asked, his tone seductive and smooth like chocolate as he walked closer to you, closing the door behind him and backing you up until you stood patiently before the couch staring up at him, a wistful glint in your eyes as you nodded. He reached up, using a finger to push your robe off of your right shoulder and cocking his head quizzically. “All dressed up just for me?” he pondered, his eyes trained on the white lace peeking out from under the robe. You nodded, to which he gripped your chin roughly, furrowing his eyebrows at your response. “Use your words sweetheart” he warned, loosening his grip so you could speak in affirmation.

“Yes…” your voice trailed off, thinking of what to call him, as you still didn’t know his name, so you addressed him as you would any man you didn’t know, “yes, sir. I dressed up just for you” you concluded, your voice barely greater than a whisper as the corners of his lips turned up. He let out an animalistic growl at the name you gave for him, obviously satisfied and moved his hand from your chin to grip the back of your neck promptly.

“It’s Jungkook, but sir will do nicely” he basically growled before latching onto your lips with carnal aggressiveness. You whined heartily into his mouth as his tongue slipped deftly into yours and intertwined with yours, causing your mind to fall into a haze as he coiled his arm around your waist, bringing your body flush against his toned frame. You reached up with shaky hands, fumbling with his shirt, eager to get it off of him and gaze upon the expanse of his abdomen. His lips detached for a moment, giving you the chance to pull his shirt over his head, which he gladly obliged and lifted his hands over his head, swiftly resuming their positions when his shirt formed a pile on the floor beside you. You leaned back in, attempting to capture his lips in another phenomenal kiss but he pulled back, leaving you to chase him and whine when you ultimately lose, to which he laughs mischievously, taking his hands off of your body and toying with the silk tie on the front of your robe.

“How do you want it baby?” he pondered, the new nickname sending shivers down your spine as you glanced at him quizzically, as if asking what he meant. He chuckled softly, tugging at the ribbon and opening your robe as he brought his hands up, carefully sliding it down your arms and bending down so his face was level with your collarbone. He placed a gentle kiss there, leaving fire in the wake of his lips as he spoke, his breath cooling the seared flesh, “would you like me to be gentle?” he asked leaving more hot kisses along the expanse of your shoulder and neck, drawing salacious sounds from your parted lips as he brought his hand up to rest at the base of your neck. “Or…” he paused, sliding his hand up and increasing the intensity of his grip on your throat, restricting the blood flow to your brain as your mind became hazy and your eyes rolled into the back of your head. “Do you want me to be rough?” he continued, lifting his head to watch your face as he loosened his grip. “It’s your choice little dove.”

You were elated, ecstatic and a little disappointed when he loosened his grip on your neck. Your ex was always into sex that lindered toward the vanilla side, as mentioned before, so he would never think to try anything like choking, which always intrigued you just a little bit. You wished you would have experienced other styles of love before you met him but you didn't, and this was your chance to try them out now. Your fingers travelled up, lightly grazing over that hand that was tightly wrapped around your neck. Whining quietly you rolled your bottom lip between your teeth, biting it softly as your other hand came up and wrapped around Jungkook’s forearm.

“I wanna try it rough” you mumbled, eyes closing as you relished in the hazy feeling this restriction gave you which only heightened as he tightened his grip.

“Perfect.” he groaned out almost inaudibly as he pulled your face to his, colliding your lips in the roughest, most passion filled kiss you’d ever experienced. He devoured your mouth with gluttonous amusement, his grip on your airway never wavering for a moment as he tongued you down, his carnal need prevalent and present in the thick air of the room. You reached up, completing a task you’d been wanting to do for days, tangling your hand in the messy black mass that fell upon his head, and relishing in the soft feeling of his waves. Then he detached from your lips and moved away, forcing your hands to fall from his hair and onto his broad shoulders, which, while pleasurable to touch, didn’t even come close to frolicking your fingers through his locks. He moved his hand from your neck to your shoulder, to which you whined with a small pout, missing the new contact as he chuckled at your eagerness. He stared at your lips, before leaning down and capturing your bottom lip between his teeth, biting down on it voraciously before he spoke. “Do you want me to put this slutty little mouth of yours to use little dove?” he asked, pulling back as if waiting for an answer, to which you obliged.

“Yes sir” You answered quite honestly in fact, as you felt all your hesitation and weariness about this task slip away. “Please put my mouth to use.” you pleaded, staring up at him, a wanton expression on your soft features.

“You’re so good for me .” he whispered, his soft breath fanning your face as you nodded in agreement, “such an obedient little dove, hmm?” he asked, to which you nodded once again, a bit more frantically this time as you awaited his cue. He used the hand on your shoulder to abruptly push you down with a small yelp so you were seated on the black leather couch behind you, the colder leather contrasting the burning lust in your entire body as you looked up at him. “Get to work slut.” Your eyes widened at the name. Maybe it was supposed to be an insult or he just liked calling you that but you couldn’t help the gargantuan wave of slick that coated your panties at the moment.

You looked down, a bit above eye level with his crotch as you reached up to palm him through his faded blue jeans. His scent was tantalizing, musky, and you couldn't get enough as you stared up at him through your eyelashes, your lips slightly parted as you gazed in awe. He gave you a warning glance, as if scolding you for teasing him for this long and you unzipped his pants. He held out his hand, as if to stop you before reaching behind his pants and pulling his gun from the back of his jeans. Your eyes widened, gaze now trained on the firearm in his hand, a horrified expression on your face as you ceased all actions. Which he noticed, peering down at you, a horrifying smile etched on his godlike features as he opened his mouth to speak.

“Relax darling, I won’t kill you,” he purred, reaching down and weaving the fingers of his free hand into the roots of your hair, grabbing and pulling back roughly so you have no other choice but to meet his dark eyes. “We’re only just getting started.” he lowered the gun, pressing the muzzle into the underside of your jaw, the cold metal like ice against your scalding skin. However, you felt no need to cry, felt no need to fear for your life even as this gun was pressed to your neck, aimed to kill, because you knew he wouldn’t do it. Through the dark facade and ominous gaze in his eyes there was something else that made you trust his inability to kill you. You realized you were enjoying the thrill, the excitement of putting your life in his hands. So, you did what any crazy bitch would do in this situation, you breathed out deeply, relaxing your shoulders and slouching yourself down to push your neck further onto the tip of the gun with a mischievous smile. Jungkook stared down at you in awe, running his tongue on the inside of his cheek and taking his gun off of your neck before tossing it over to the end of the couch behind you.

Resuming your actions with a shaky breath, you tugged his pants down until they fell to his ankles and placed your hands on the sides of his underwear clad hips. You might’ve been inexperienced in his style of fucking but you sure knew how to give a good blowjob, so you got to work, placing open mouthed kisses to his clothed appendage. You looked up at him once more seeing the lust clouded haze that filled his deep brown eyes. After a bit of teasing, you hooked your fingers in the waistband of his underwear, pulling it down in a seductively slow manner as you allowed his needy cock to spring free, and you stared up at it with a gasp.

It was huge.

You didn’t really know what qualifies as huge because the only dick you’ve ever had was around 6 inches on a good day but this alluring appendage swinging before your face had to be at least 9 inches long and you wondered how the fuck you were going to fit it all in your mouth let alone your pussy, which was already aching for it. Your mouth involuntarily opened wider in anticipation of his delicious dick inside and you grabbed the base, with two hands, drawing a hiss from the man that stood over you as he kicked off his shoes and the rest of the clothing that pooled around his feet. You licked teasingly up the sides of his dick, stopping at the tip to swirl your tongue around it, and catching some salty precum when you did. You glanced up at him and he looked absolutely furious in the best sort of way. Frustrated to the max as you teased him mercilessly, only spending meere fleeting moments at the spots which needed the most attention.

Then he snapped, taking you by surprise and using his hand that was still tangled in your hair to hold you still while he shoved his cock in your mouth. You tried to gasp but it merely came out as a small strangled whimper that was cut off as his length reached that back of your throat. You moved your hands to the sides of his hips once again, bracing yourself as he slowly pulled his member out of your mouth, most likely winding up for another thrust. He propelled his hips forward once again, stuffing not nearly all of his cock into your mouth, as his tip grazed the back of your throat. The feeling of him completely filling your mouth had you livid, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you moaned, the vibrations reverberating onto his appendage which drew a salacious moan from his plush parted pink lips.

“Fuck, your mouth feels like heaven.” he moaned out, then he started to fuck your face, tears pooling in your eyes while his dick basically hit the back of your throat with every harsh stroke of his hips as he gripped on your hair tighter. After one particularly hard thrust, he held his length down your throat as tears rolled down your cheeks and you gagged around him. He took his cock out of your mouth, to which you gasped, swallowing the spit that pooled in your mouth with an aroused groan.

“Tastes so good.” you mumbled, not possibly being able to get enough as he shoved his cock back into your mouth and fucked your throat relentlessly. The tension building in you was too much to bear and your need to cum only heightened as his actions resumed. You arched your back slightly, pushing your clothed clit into the black leather cushions of the couch as you gyrated into it slowly, praying he wouldn’t notice and would be too invested in fucking your throat to realize.

You were wrong. He noticed immediately.

He halted all movements, taking his cock from your throat and grabbing your neck harshly, to which you gasped, whimpering as he pulled you up to stand in front of him, cock slapping the front of your body as you stared at his face in anticipation of his actions. You could imagine what you looked like right now swollen glossy lips, and tear stains running down your face because you didn’t bother to wear your waterproof mascara. You never needed it any other time so you figured why would you need it now. Oh how wrong you were.

“Dirty little dove, trying to get off on the couch because you want me that bad?” he rasped, nearing closer to your face with each word and you nodded frantically, basically begging him to do something, anything. “Words” he barked, drawing a cry from your lips as you thought of what to say.

“I want your cock, please sir.” you begged, before he groaned hungrily and captured your lips in a ravenous kiss, taking you by surprise. No one had ever kissed you after they’d fucked your throat before so why would he do it. You didn’t dwell on that thought for too long before melting into his touch and wrapping your arms around his neck. Jungkook took his free hand, trailing it around your body to unclasp the back of your bra, your eyes going wide at the skillful ease of his fingers. He snatched the white lace clothing off of your frame, tossing it to the other side of the room and reaching back up to cup one of your soft breasts in his hand, flicking the nipple with his index finger and making you sigh satisfactorily into his mouth. He leaned forward, taking you with him as he lowered both of you back onto the couch, settling himself between your newly opened legs and never breaking the kiss. He unlatched his hand from your neck, trailing it down your body as the other hand continued to knead your breast skillfully. His burning touch slowly ventured further and further down your abdomen until he reached the band of your panties and abruptly tore the thin while lace from your body to your dismay and discarding it on the floor beside him. You whined sadly, as those had been your favorite pair of underwear but barely had any sort of time to grieve as you felt two rough fingers dip into the wetness of your slit, trailing them up and stopping right over the spot you needed him to be at, pulling a moan from your still swollen lips.

He began kissing a trail down your body, stopping for a mere moment to suck on the pert bud of your free breast before resuming his path of destruction. He moved his hands to settle on the inner sides of your thighs, spreading them apart and sighing as he got a glimpse of the treasure between them. Your eyes widened upon realizing his destination as you scooched away, holding a handful of his tousled black hair in an attempt to grab his attention.

“I-…” you paused, chewing on your bottom lip and thinking of how to word your statement. “i’ve never asked anyone to do that for me before, so y- you don’t have to do it.” you stuttered wearily as the nerves set in. No one’s face had ever been remotely close to your womanhood and the thought of it sent a chill down your spine as you released his hair from your grasp. You wondered what it would even be like. He glanced up at you, eyes dilated as he chuckled, a dark chuckle that made you shiver as he tightened his grip on your thighs, yanking you closer to his face and taking a deep drag of your scent once you were close enough.

“Oh baby I want to” he basically moaned out, licking his lips and glancing down at your glistening slit, the corners of his lips turning up in a hungry smile. You raised an eyebrow, asking yourself ‘why the fuck would he want to do that?’, and ‘isn’t this for my pleasure?’, but all your concerns were answered once he spoke again. “I can’t wait to make you writhe on my tongue little dove” he muttered, causing your cheeks to burn with the intensity of a thousand suns as he talked into your soaking entrance. “... make you beg and cry without even using my cock.” he continued, releasing your left thigh from his grip as he placed a hand on your pubic mound, lowering his thumb and slowly beginning to circle your clit eliciting a loud wail from you. “You think, if I had the power to turn you into a messy little whore all for me just by using my mouth, I wouldn’t use it at any chance I could?” He asked and you whined, nodding as your hips stuttered up in desperate need of more friction. “It’s all about power baby, and I have it all here” he groaned, watching you clench pathetic around nothing.

Then, he finally gave you what you wanted. His hand resumed its grip on your thigh, forcing it away from the other as his thumb was swiftly replaced by his warm tongue licking up and down your wet sex. You moaned, placing your shaky hands on the mounds of your chest, toying with your nipples just to add to the pleasurable sensations he was creating with his tongue. This feeling was unlike any ecstasy you had ever felt and you never wanted it to stop. His tongue slipped deftly into your soaked entrance twisting and turning skillfully as you keened loudly. His warm wet appendage swirling around your wet cavern was the best feeling in the entire world and you knew if he continued ravaging you at this pace, you’d cum in no time. But, you needed this release. You needed to let go of all this pent up sexual frustration you didn’t even know you harbored. You needed to experience your first orgasm in months, if not years, that wasn’t self inflicted and you hoped and prayed with all your heart that it would come soon.

He switched his focus,, moving his tongue up to play with your aching clit and slipping two fingers into your formerly empty hole with a deep groan that reverberated through your core like a powerful vibrator which only intensified your moans and cries of pleasure. You looked down on yourself to see the delicious sight of him devouring your cunt ruthlessly, the sight alone almost tipping you over the edge as you brought your hands up, covering your eyes while you neared completion.

“Jungkook you’re gonna make me cum.” you called out, an exasperated cry leaving your lips when your impending orgasm was painfully ripped away from you as all his motion stopped. You uncovered your eyes, about to stare down when your body jolted, a harsh sting being felt directly on your clit, sending a wave of warmth barreling through your entire body. Then you understood, he slapped you, and you peered down at him, your eyes glassy due to the orgasm that was ripped from your grasp.

“Who? said you can cum.” he deadpanned menacingly, staring up at you through hooded eyes as you leaned your head back tiredly, realizing the error in your words and prepared to beg, just like he said you would.

“Sir” you cried, holding your arms limply over your head as you continued to plead. “Sir please, please make me cum.” you begged mercilessly, a tear of relief sliding down your cheek as he resumed his assault on your core, attacking at a steady pace and retrieving the all too familiar knot that formed in the pit of your stomach. You reached up, grabbing the edge of the couch with an iron grip, your knuckles turning white as your hips began circling on his face, your clit rubbing against his tongue with every movement and venturing you closer to your sweet release.”Please don’t stop sir, oh my god” you whined loudly, fucking his face relentlessly as you chased your high, nearing it more and more with each thrust of your hips until he finally pushed you off the brink of ecstasy, a scream leaving your lips as Jungkook continued his unrelenting attack on your pained pussy.

You rode out your high, writhing and panting before him, his pace never faltering, his fingers never slowing, his tongue never relenting and it soon became too much. The euphoric delirium quickly turned into madness as you barreled down the path into overstimulation. You wailed pathetically, thrashing under his hold as the pleasurable pain consumed your body and you could barely form a coherent sentence but you persevered, scraping all the coherent thoughts you could muster and turning them into tangible words that sat on the tip of your tongue, ready to be spoken. “Sir please, it's too much!” you cried to which Jungkook finally let up, slowing his pace to a halt and sitting back.

“Oh my god that was so fucking hot” he growled before sucking on his glossy fingers and cleaning around his mouth with his skilled tongue as he gazed amusedly upon your exhausted body. But he was nowhere near done with you. This fact made apparent when he stood and wrapped an arm around your hip, lifting your limp body and turning you over with ease, positioning you so your face was pressed into the now warm couch cushion and your ass was raised high into the air before him. His eyes rolled at the view of your swollen cunt bent over for him and he gave it a light smack, eliciting a pained, but tired yelp from you as he chuckled muttering “you’re going to drive me crazy little dove.” under his breath.

He crouched down, coming face to lips with your abused cunt as he wrapped his arms around your bent bottom, lacing his fingers together as they rested at the arch of your back and dragging his nose up the tortured path of your slit, drawing whines and cries of overstimulation from your wiggling frame as you tried to get away from the punishing menace that was his face. “No, please. I can't take anymore, it's too much.” You whimpered, your voice muffled as you leaned your face into the couch tiredly to which he obliged, reluctantly, as he stood, grabbing his neglected dick in hand and pointing it toward your pink entrance.

“I can’t wait to stretch your pretty little pussy ____.” he purred and you moaned at the sound of your name slipping off of his tongue like the creamiest butter. He dragged his tip along your swollen clit, abusing it again for what seemed like the millionth time that day as he covered his girth in your slick, a guttural groan emitting from the back of his throat. Then, abruptly, he sunk into your slippery cavern, barely all the way in but you’d never felt so full in your entire life as he pushed forward slowly, filling you up and providing you with the most delicious stretch you’d ever felt. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you whined, a desperate whine that you could barely register was your own voice as he pushed his length completely inside of you, his head falling back and your name, rolling off of his tongue once again.

After barely giving you time to adjust to his alarming size, he reeled his hips back before slamming into you again, and again, and again, over and over again until he was fucking you at an unrelenting speed you barely knew was possible to achieve. Suffering from the overwhelming pleasure he forced you to endure, you shut your eyes tight, crying out in strangled indulgence as you grasped onto the fluffy throw blanket strewn lazily over the couch in front of you. You relished in the sting of his girth, staring ahead blankly with glassy eyes as he rammed into you with a punishing speed and black mascara filled tears streamed down your cheeks.

You knew you were about to cum soon, again, only due to the all too familiar feeling accumulating in the pit of your belly. Jungkook reached down, placing a hand on your shoulder blade and pressing your chest further into the couch while he drilled into you, moaning and cursing at the feeling of you flexing deliciously around his cock. He felt you were close, so he moved his hand, snaking it around your waist and trailing his other hand to assume its position around your neck, hoisting you up so your back was arched against his abdomen and you had no choice but to stare up at him as he talked down on you, never slowing the snapping of his hips for a wavering moment.

“You’ve never been fucked this good have you?” he teased through clenched teeth as he leaned down, sucking and marking all over the expanse of your neck with grunts and growls of pleasure. You were way too fucked out to even think about the words to form a coherent sentence, barely being able to form whimpered versions of ‘mhm’ after he questioned you but he was having none of that. He unraveled his hand from your waist, tightening his grip on your throat and landing a hard slap to your left asscheek, drawing a shrill shriek from the depths of your throat as he warned in your ear. “Words little dove” he slapped you again, “how many times do I have to fucking warn you.” he concluded, landing another harsh smack to your abused flesh as you whimpered.

“You’re the best I’ve ever had, I’m such a slut for you sir.” You sobbed out, “please let me cum, please fuck” you whined, drawing out your words and you reached back, tangling both hands in his unruly mop of hair as he split you open, moaning directly in your ear which in itself, was a thing that could make you cum on the spot.

“Cum then.” He said obviously, as if it was the most simple response, only it was this simple command that shoved you off the precipice of ecstasy for a second time. The feeling that bloomed deep in your stomach soon blossomed into a full blown orgasm that racked through your body quickly, leaving nothing but white hot pleasure in its wake as your legs trembled viciously, with one last loud cry of Jungkook’s name. But, he still did not falter, his pace quickening as he neared his own climax, the speed both too much and not nearly enough at the same time. You reached back, attempting to push him and escape the all consuming pleasure torturing your body like a blazing fire but your hands were caught quickly by Jungkook’s hands which crossed them tightly and held them behind your back, resuming his attack.

You shook your head, letting it hang as your tears fell freely onto the couch before you, his moans and groans of ecstasy increasing in volume and frequency as he neared his own climax, his hips faltering in their pace for the first time in a while as he worked to his own release. In what seemed like an instant, he released the most beautiful, salacious, strangled moan you had ever heard, pulling himself out of your soaked cunt, and painting the surface of your ass with his white hot ropes of cum. He finally let you go after a moment, watching as you fell limply to the couch, laying face down, panting exhaustively, your arms still crossed limply behind your back as he smirked down at your fucked out frame. He left you alone for just a bit, coming back but a few moments later before you felt the sore skin of your asscheeks being wiped off with what felt like a warm hand towel. You were relieved he had the respect to clean his mess, it made you respect him just a little bit more as a person but you were way too tired to dwell on the subject any longer.

“You did so good for me little dove” he cooed, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it as he placed a sweet chaste kiss on your lower back, caressing his hand up the side of your body. A simple touch that lacked any sort of sexual aspects, it felt comforting and you sighed, leaning further into the soft couch as you heard him begin to put his clothing on. You felt a pang of distress, seeing as you were more of a fuck and cuddle kind of girl, but you really hadn’t expected him to stay so why’d you feel the need to ask him to. Pushing the feeling deep inside your gut, you sighed deeply as he walked in front of you to bend forward and grab his gun that laid discarded on the opposite side of your couch, also grabbing the throw blanket beside it and tossing it over your naked frame before thinking about something. “So,” he started, tucking his gun in the back of his pants and humming, “I’m thinking that was worth about, hmm 50k” he started. You vaguely understood what he was saying and knew you’d flip out once you were conscious enough to truly comprehend his words. “I’ll keep in touch.” He said, pulling his shirt down and smiling deviously at you as you uttered a hoarse ‘huh?’ To which he answered simply, “if I wanna come collect some more money” and he spun on his heels, opening your door and sauntering out of the threshold.

When he got into the hallway, Jungkook burst into a wide smile, satisfied with the encounter he made today. He entered this agreement fully prepared to either fuck you once and take the money you’d earned back or just fuck you and kill you, but once he’d had a taste, he was insatiable. You were flawless, your compliance was impeccable. The way you obeyed him, begged for him, the way you tasted, the way you felt, the way you looked. There was no way he could ever get enough and is probably the reason he kept overstimulating you like a frat boy with a bruised ego. There was no way he was gonna just let go of an absolute gem like you, so he made his excuse, a plan. Everytime you fuck him, you pay back a portion of the money. He was so tempted to tell you this session was only worth $100 just as an excuse to come back over and over and over until he had his fill, but he kept his composure, giving you hope that you’d ever be free of his grasp. Jungkook for once was extremely ecstatic, elated, excited to ruin you even more than he already had and he was dead set on making you want him just as much as he craved you no matter what it took. Though he was pretty sure you already did.

#bts #bts smut #bts fic #jeon jungguk #jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #oneshot #mafia!bts #mafia!jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #bts angst #mafia au #GUNPLAYHAHAHA #IM SUPER EFFED UP #this took sooooo long

[alluringjae]

queen of hearts - sjn

summary: for the first time, one of your star students hasn’t been fetched right after class. but when she finally does, you weren’t expecting such a fine man to be her father.

pairing: johnny x female reader

word count: 5.5k

genre: fluff, romance, comedy | ceo and single dad!johnny + ballerina!reader + modern day!au

warnings: mentions of an absent parent, johnny being an overthinker, sexual innuendos (ten saying dilf hehe), slight explicit language, technical terms of ballet, a mini reference to mean girls

author’s note: sooo i came in touch with my former dance life, which led me to write this. there are links for the variations i used; their names are underlined when they’re mentioned. i am going to get technical with ballet terms here (even when my ballet knowledge decreased), so to any dancers reading, i really did my best, so please don’t come for me or do correct me for any mistakes.

although one character and her dance background, plus the name of the setting, are real, everything else about it is still a work of fiction.

i miss dancing, no cap.

leave me some feedback, constructive criticism or hellos!

Ballet student and teacher by day, a soloist of the Korean National Ballet at night.

This was your daily routine, and it wasn’t the typical 8-5. But it’s debatable whether or not it was worse, because you’re always going overtime. That’s the thing when you’re an overachiever. Nonetheless, you loved what you do. It’s the lifestyle you gradually built since your preschool days.

Mornings on the weekdays were mostly vacant since all the kids were still in school. You’d start at 10 am for a warm-up class for the company. Before you delved into teaching and assisting, you’d train right after your lunch break. Partnering class, en pointe class, 1-on-1 sessions with choreographers, self-practice, then the company night class, that’s the organization of your week.

Now adding the teacher title, you mostly handled kindergartners to 5th graders in the academy aspect of the company. Your first teaching class would start at 1 pm. It’s when the younger students who finished their morning classes zoom into your assigned dance studio. One class would last an hour and a half, then you have a 30-minute break in between another class with the older kids. Their lesson repertoire was more strenuous due to the added across-the-floor lessons and jumps. Water was always your best friend, water refilling stations located everywhere in the company building.

You wouldn’t say you’re a strict teacher, but you weren’t shy to correct anyone from wherever you stood. You’d lightly align their arms or back properly so your students were working on the correct body parts. Compared to the other teachers, a lot of students enjoyed your kind yet frank approaches. Your former students, who’ve already gone to the higher levels, missed your lively presence and wished repeatedly that they want you back as their teacher.

“Teacher (Y/N), I miss you so much! Teacher Ten is so intense. I get the jitters especially when we’re en pointe on the floor.”

“Teacher (Y/N), Teacher Sicheng and Teacher Seulgi scare the heck out of me during partnering class. Especially when I tried to lift my partner, I keep losing focus because of Teacher Sicheng’s never-ending comments!”

Not to be sadistic, but you’d simply laugh at their minuscule complaints. Even if they’re struggling in the academy, those comments were directed to fix their techniques if they wanted to breakthrough.

“Kids, you’re going to be fine! They wouldn’t say or do those things just because they wanted to. They’re here to push you to the next level, like how I used to do with you. It’s a cut-throat industry after all.”

This was always your reply, bittersweet and truthful. Not everyone makes it, unfortunately, so if you’re really striving, you’d do whatever it takes. Throughout your career, you’re relatively impressed with how far you’ve come.

Trainee at 17, Corps de Ballet at 18, Demi-Soloist at 21, and Soloist at 23.

You’ve been a soloist for 4 years. The final stage, which was to become a principal dancer, is your running goal. Becoming a soloist was praiseworthy enough because you’ve seen so many give up in the Corps, but claiming a spot as a principal dancer has been the ultimate dream. Since you’ve watched Swan Lake for the first time at 4 years old with your parents, that’s where you found a passion for dancing and the stage. Here you are years later, practicing numerous variations daily, performing in opera houses, and mentoring all these gifted kids.

Your last class with elementary kids, which began around 5 pm, reached its end once all the students curtsied in front of you and scurried to their mothers or their nannies. The remaining plan on your agenda today was the company class at 7:30 pm, which exceeds the average hour and a half. It’s worse during show season. There have been times everyone went beyond midnight to polish every scene from head to toe.

Currently, there’s no upcoming show for the public, though the annual summer recital for the students was around the corner. Selected members of the company were chosen to perform individually in it, which was both exciting and intense. It’s also because it’s an evaluation on whether you’d get promoted in status or staying put. You’ve partaken in 3 recitals in the past, two of which elevated you from the corps and demi-soloist ranks. The recent one, however, didn’t change your soloist ranking.

It was a major first in your career in ballet, and after finding out the result of the latter, it emotionally pained you. Recalling how much soul you put into that piece, the rejection from your artistic director clenched your heart. Though in time, you moved on from it and viewed it as a stepping stone. Also, Sicheng and Ten personally stormed your apartment to pull yourself together with wine and pizza after going on a short leave.

Since you were trainees, Sicheng and Ten were your best friends in and outside the company. Working daily to occasional barhopping, that’s your youth summed up. It wasn’t because you didn’t like the girls you’ve worked with (though a lot of them were fake and bitchy), but these two were frank and humorous as hell. Together, you’d help each other with your goals rather than be competitive. Over time, Ten leveled up to a principal dancer for 2 years running while you and Sicheng were still soloists. The way you’d watch Ten take all the big roles, that’s where you want to be one day.

Back in your last teaching class, the entire dance room was vacant. Since it’s mainly used for ballet classes, you’d either run through anything you’ve practiced from the company classes and polish it or warm up a little bit more.

Except for today, this was the only free time to sew a new pair of pointe shoes because your current ones were dead. Dead in a sense that the hard shell turned soft, which won’t be able to support you when you’re up on your toes. You’re not taking any risks of minor injuries especially when you’re in the current lineup of company members performing for this upcoming recital again. You have to prove to everyone that you deserve a position as a principal dancer.

As your legs sprawled in a half middle split, your sewing equipment laid in front of you like you’re about to perform surgery, a tiny girl stood by the ajar studio doors. In her neat bun and holding on to her small duffel bag, you’re convinced everyone has gone home already since it’s quite late.

You may have your priorities as a company member, but she was still your student.

“Minji!” You shouted her name, speedily waving your hand. You’re not one to have favorites, though you couldn’t help wonder how extraordinary she was. She’s always taking charge in demonstrating the lessons to everyone and improving every session in the 3 years she’s joined the academy. “Come in! Come in!”

At age 7, she’s gotten taller through the years, above the average from how you see it. She must have amazing genetics. Her legs sauntered in seconds to you. Sitting down across you, she marveled at your setup. Specifically, at the fresh pointe shoes.

“Are those yours, Teacher (Y/N)?” She perked up, caressing its soft fabric and playing with the mini bows of the drawstrings.

“Yes, it is, Minji!” You answered while trying to insert the thin thread through the small eye of the needle. “Why are you still here? Is your nanny stuck in traffic or something?”

“My nanny went on sudden leave, so my dad’s the one fetching me. But I think he’s running late from his job.”

Oh, this was a first to know about her father. In all the years she’s been your student, you rarely caught sight of him, even in recitals. Maybe he sat in an unknown section, but you’re pretty much acquainted with all the parents of your students. Even if some were snobbier than the rest because they wanted their child to have more stage time, you still got to know them out of respect. Quite odd, if you said so yourself.

After deep concentration, the thread triumphantly passed through the eye so you tied the two ends of the thread in a double knot. Seeing as Minji attentively watched you, you tasked her to cut the ribbons of your shoes according to the trail of pencil marks. This was so she wouldn’t cut it too short or too long. While she did that, you hammered your shoes against the floor to soften the hard front, bending the shank back and forth so the arch of your feet could move without difficulty later.

Minji wasn’t expecting such loud sounds, her entire body shaken awake. Her facial expression was priceless, explaining to her, “Once you get your first pointe shoes in a few years, this is one of the basic things you need to do so your feet won’t hurt too much while dancing.”

“Will you be there to teach me how to make my pointe shoes?”

“Absolutely! Come to me first then I’ll mentor you all that I know.”

The process of sewing and breaking new pointe shoes engraved your mind since your adolescent years, with changes along the way. Inspired by some tricks from your former teachers, but there were some differing rituals you followed. There’s no definite process of it, just as long you’re comfortable to dance after.

With your feet, you stepped on the hard boxes of the shoes to soften it more, creating a popping sound. Followed by sewing your elastic bands in. For your ribbons, you liked to burn the edges with a lighter so the thread of it won’t run. Kindly asking your cute assistant for the lighter beside her, you scanned the edges back and forth the flame. In seconds, the edges had a distinct mark, fully closed. From there, you slid your feet to your shoes to make final sewing adjustments. Sewing your ribbons took you another few minutes, plus adding superglue inside the shoe so the shoe won’t collapse when it unstiffens and scratching the shank with a cutter so you won’t slip later while dancing.

Voila, the final product is done! Hopefully, it can last you a week at least.

“Wow, Teacher (Y/N), it looks pretty!” Minji applauded, collecting the mess you’ve both made to dispose of later. You, on the other hand, gave her your thanks once you applied some bandages on your big toes and put on your toe pads. Slipping inside the shoes and tying them, you rose up back to your feet and headed to the bar to break them in. From plies-relevésto forced arches, the shoes gave you the sensation that they were an extension of your feet. The ease flowed through, meaning you were ready to practice your variations.

While you stepped your shoes in rosin for friction, your curious student moved to the front where the mirror lied to watch what you’ve prepared.

“What variation are you dancing to?”

“This is the Gamzatti variation from La Bayadere.” You replied, tapping the play button on your phone and racing to your position on the side. Talking a short ballet walk, you strongly prepared your arms before the music of the orchestra takes off.

This variation consisted of a lot of jumps and turns. Grand jetés, attitude turns, chaîné turns, you needed a lot of core control and proper spotting so you won’t get dizzy. The thrilling music lessened your nerves because you enjoyed learning this piece from one of the principal dancers, smiling and letting the music guide your legs. Once you nailed 3 consecutive grand jetés, the variation ended with a sus-sous and the wrists of your hands flicking upwards.

Holding it for 5 more seconds, you landed back on your feet with heavy breathing and a need for water. But before you could, small claps and cheers from Minji in front erupted. Momentarily, you’ve forgotten her presence because dancing solo puts you in your own space. You’d never let anyone take you away from it.

“Teacher (Y/N), that was wonderful! Are you performing that in the summer recital?”

Yikes, she’s right but she wasn’t meant to see it yet. Solo performances from the company members for the recital were top secret, only unveiled during the production rehearsal. Well, you didn’t think this through, but you didn’t mind.

“Can you keep a secret?”

Time ticked a lot faster today, only 10 minutes left until the company class on the ground floor whereas you were in the second. Just a few steps down the stairs away, yet Minji was still here. You only presumed that within your hour break, her father could’ve made it already. But maybe he’s stuck in traffic or at work.

“Minji, my class starts soon. Have you contacted your father?”

“I already texted him earlier, but he hasn’t responded. This happens often, he’s a busy man.” She bowed in front of you suddenly. “I’m sorry, Teacher (Y/N) for the hassle.”

“Oh no, please!” You shook your hands so she’d stop. Because this situation was relatively new, you were unsure of how to handle it. Or that was until you remembered what Ten texted you earlier. “Minji, the blinds of the main studio are going to be lifted so anyone from the outside can view us practicing. Would you like to watch until your dad gets here?”

With her insistent nodding, she situated herself in one of the seats in the front row. When you entered the main studio, your two close companions already carried a metal barre to the center and leaned towards it while observing you walking to them in your flat shoes.

“I see we have a bit of an audience here.” Ten glimpsed at the young girl, astonished by the many dancers prepping and chatting away with their cliques from the glass barrier.

“Her dad isn’t here yet, and you did say the blinds were up today. Might as well give her a show while she waits, you know.” You lifted your right leg to the top barre, stretching it with your arms.

“Hmmm, shouldn’t her dad be more cautious though? It’s getting late and it’s a Thursday. Doesn’t she have school or something?” Sicheng pointed out, discarding his muscle tee to straighten out his leotard.

“That’s not my business though. She’s just my student, and since she’s still here, I have to entertain her while she waits.”

Before your friends said anything back, the artistic director of the ballet company strutted her way to the center of the room. It’s a common rule here that once she entered, everyone must be silent to listen and race to any free spot in the numerous barres spread out if they haven’t.

“Alright, everyone. We’ll do the typical barre, then before doing across the floor exercises, I’ll be requesting those performing solos already in the recital to dance any variation tonight as another evaluation on who deserves to perform twice.” She eyed the pianist directly beside her. “Proceed first with two demi-pliés then one grand plié. Don’t forget to do the port de bras of each position.”

As the live piano music played, your focus was divided. Partly properly executing the exercise while your artistic director roamed each barre area, partly thinking about what variation to perform. This was a first for the company, and everyone was just stunned to hear the breaking news. It’d be nice to get an extra opportunity to showcase to people your potential.

30-40 minutes flew by quickly. As the guys carried the bars to the side to clear out the floor and the girls changed to their pointe shoes, the artistic director ordered all the performers of the recitals to stand in a line in front of her. Everyone else was seated around the room, so the interested eyes of everyone were on you. There were 10 performers, half are from the corps and the other half are either demi-soloists or soloists. You and Sicheng stood beside each other, internally shaking with nerves under the intimidating eyes of the artistic director. She used to be a principal dancer for the Stuttgart Ballet in Germany before moving back to Seoul, making her undeniably capable of leading all of you.

“Okay,” From her seated position observing the 10 performers, her finger pointed at you directly. “Ms. (Y/L/N) (Y/N), you perform first.”

Your nerves intensified and more sweat streamed out your upper body. Even if going first felt more relieving, no one was ever brave enough to perform individually in front of the esteemed artistic director. Principal dancers aside from Ten that you’re close with were intimidated when they have 1-on-1 or partnering sessions with her. But anyhow, in less than 2 minutes, you’d be done. This wasn’t the first time she’s had your full attention either, so you’ll treat it like the other individual performances you’ve had.

You smiled to yourself when the other soloists left you alone, while you gave the name of the variation you’re dancing to the pianist. Running to the side to put on a practice tutu, the artistic director asked, “What will you be dancing for us tonight, (Y/N)?”

“I’ll be dancing Queen of the Dryads from Don Quixote.”

The last time you did this variation was 3 years ago during the recital that didn’t change your position as a soloist. Even if this variation hurt to think about for a while, it was still one of your favorites to watch and do. Moving on, you could only muse how powerful and beautiful you felt at that time. This isn’t an easy piece to perform in your opinion. Yet according to the members of the company, this was their favorite solo of yours.

As the starting notes unfolded, you took a deep breath and elegantly walked into the frame. You only wished you wore your fake crown again for this. Minimal smiling and light arms, you imagined yourself as an actual queen who captured the eyes of many. In this case, your fellow seniors and juniors held their breaths at the captivating sight of you.

Off you go into a series of glissade jeté developpé on relevé at elevating heights, then a fouetté arabesque and another arabesque on relevé before ballet walking again to the side to dance across the stage. Sissonne to the front, right developpé to the front on relevé, pique to prepare for a single pirouette, you gracefully did a chassé to the front twice and stood on your toes with a sus-sous.

Doing it a few more times, the climax of the entire variation was nearing. Returning to the center, you took another deep breath and lifted your left leg for the Italian fouettés. Spotting to the front and back while maintaining your balance, the variation approached its end with lame duck turns, posing with your arms were positioned at a 45-degree angle, your back slightly arched and your left leg doing a tendu derriére. Your eyes reflected at the mirror in front, surveying your alignment. Once your 5-second hold was finished, you properly put your arms down and closed your back leg into 5th position.

The applause from everyone in the room roared, Ten and Sicheng wolf-whistling even for more support. It’s a usual thing every time any of you perform individually, and no one minded it. The artistic director grinned, giving a quiet clap from the front before calling out the next performer, who was from the corps. Bowing to everyone hastily, you paid more attention to spot your student by the window. She was smiling ear to ear, waving both hands at you.

“You did amazing, Teacher!” She mouthed. Hearing words of praise from members was one thing, but hearing them from students was another. You’re so used to watching them and giving them your compliments that you often forget that you’re a dancer first before a teacher. Seeing them all delighted, saying that it motivates them more, showed that you’re doing a great job teaching them. You’re a reflection of what you pass down, and all you want was for them to be the best they could be.

From her jolly expression, a tall masculine silhouette hovered a part of the window. Her instinct of giving a brighter smile when the hand of said silhouette patted her head then carried her duffel bag again, that could only mean one thing. Excusing yourself to the artistic director, you stepped out to bid your goodbye and maybe meet her father. Minji and the tall man were about to leave the building if it weren’t for your breathy voice calling them out.

“Seo Minji and Mr. Seo?”

They stopped their tracks. Minji was fast to react, familiar with your voice and racing towards you for a sweaty hug. Meanwhile, your focus shifted once the masculine silhouette came into full view. You finally understood why Minji’s growth spurt spiked up, noticing that he was taller than Sicheng.

The top buttons of his shirt were off, yet he kept his formal blazer on. His hair was a bit tousled, some strands falling in front of his forehead. He must’ve run here. Peeking through were some roots of his scruff growing. His eyebags were almost as dark as his brown hair. Yet by the way his Rolex remained spotless, you blatantly assumed that he was more than well-off. Especially when the ballet academy was one of the most prestigious ones in Seoul.

Out of all the parents you’ve met, none of them appeared youthful like him.

“Teacher (Y/N)?” Thanks to Minji, you moved your staring eyes away from him. This was another first, since meeting only the fathers of your students wasn’t your norm. Meeting young-looking fathers, to be specific.

“O-Oh,” You ate your words, suddenly blanking out. “You’re leaving me without saying goodbye, Minji? Not polite of you.”

“My father was rushing right after watching your performance, and I don’t know why.” She responded, her finger scratching the top of her head in confusion. Speaking of said father, his strong presence appeared right in front of you. The wrinkles of his forehead creased while his eyes barely looked at yours.

“Uhm,” His fingers toyed with his Rolex. “I apologize for my tardiness. I got caught up in work and all, plus her nanny le-”

“Mr. Seo.” You halted his rambling, already aware of the situation. Like father, like daughter. “It’s fine. Minji loved watching us practice while waiting, and she wasn’t a bother either. You have nothing to worry about.”

“Phew.” He swiped an imaginative bead of sweat from his forehead, displaying his relief with his playful nature.

At age 23, Johnny Seo started his own company in the fashion scene and it grew internationally in the coming years. Then when Minji unexpectedly joined the picture, he’s been multi-tasking to make ends meet. Lately, as a CEO, he has had meetings and conferences on a daily. So, his position as a single father was always tested. It worsened when he rarely has proper time to spend any time with Minji unless it’s the weekend or late in the evening. Breaking it down, it wasn’t because he didn’t want to meet you. It was more like he couldn’t when his schedules were packed from head to toe.

Having the guilt of taking your precious time, “Seriously though, I am sorry for being late. Her nanny resigned suddenly, and I have no time to find her replacement.”

“Mr. Seo, again, don’t worry about it. As her teacher and a company member, I am practically here 24/7 so it won’t be a nuisance at all if this happens again.”

“Thank you so much, Teacher (Y/N). That is your name, right?” He planted his palm on his forehead, stressed. “Being a single parent is hard. I am always forgetting things.”

A part of you couldn’t restrain from feeling sorry for his struggle. Taking care of a child should be the work of both the mother and father, not one of them being absent. You’ve feared this would harm Minji, but she’s a strong girl.

“The fact you didn’t forget to fetch Minji despite the late time is still something to be happy over. I’m not a parent or anything, but parenting, in general, is a challenge.” You added an insight, patting the head of the young girl beside you. “Cut yourself some slack, Mr. Seo. I’m sure Minji still loves you, right?”

Minji shouted a big yes, now clinging to the leg of her father. “It’s okay, dad. Really.”

Over the years, Johnny has been doubtful of his parenting skills. He was an only child, and he struggled to ask for guidance from his own parents due to the shame of having a kid at a young age. So, he’d ask for help from his other friends and co-workers. No matter how many times they’ve reassured him that he’s doing well, he’s an overthinker who always reflected on the bad scenarios. There’s also that pressure to find someone who can fill that absent position not just for Minji, but for himself too. No matter how many girls he’s asked out or been set up with, he failed in the love department badly.

It’s the soothing way you voiced out your truth that made all these negative thoughts running through his head freeze briefly. Over the past 3 years since Minji started ballet, she always had a great story about you to share. One of them was how ballet made her a lot happier because of your influence. If he had at least an hour of his day to meet any of his daughter’s mentors, it would’ve been you.

“Do feel free to call me Johnny instead.” He casually introduced himself, taking his hand out for you to shake. “Mr. Seo makes me feel like I’m at work right now.”

Despite his informal approach, you understood his intentions and returned the action with a promising smile. “Pleasure to finally meet you, Johnny.”

“Pleasure is all mine, Teacher (Y/N).”

Earlier, the nerves from performing in front of the artistic director died down fast. But for some reason, they rose back up when you’ve spoken to this man in a matter of minutes. As someone whose feelings don’t flourish in a single glance, why did this man specifically deliver you such a strong effect?

If it weren’t for Ten calling for your name by the door, you would’ve held on to Johnny’s hand longer, which would’ve been inappropriate. Letting go first, this was your cue to return to your class.

“I must head back inside, Johnny. Don’t sweat on fetching your daughter late, though she is still a student with school the following day. Right, Minji?”

Minji nodded as Johnny kept that mind, knowing where he has to improve next.  “Yes, Teacher (Y/N). Thank you again, sincerely. I’ll definitely see you again in the coming days until Minji has a new nanny.”

“That’s no problem with me at all, Johnny.”

Soon as Johnny held his daughter’s hand to exit the studio and you were re-entering the studio with an impatient Ten, he swerved swiftly as if he forgot something.

“Oh by the way Teacher (Y/N), I saw your whole performance awhile ago. I was blown away, you deserved the applause.”

Although you could only distinguish his silhouette, you didn’t suppose he watched you from head to toe. Most parents or nannies would’ve dragged their kids out of the studio once they find them like they were on a tight schedule, so this was novel to experience. That performance showed your prime too.

“Thank you, Johnny. See you again soon.”

Giving a final nod, you led yourself back to the studio, not bothering to acknowledge the erupting heat on your cheeks and entire body. Not to sound narcissistic, but compliments weren’t foreign to you. You’re conscious of the hard work that you put in your talent and if they pointed out your greatness, why would you deny it? However, receiving one from Johnny was like gearing your engine with new fuel.

Before you could try to reject these harboring feelings, Ten was fast to pick up on it. You cannot hide anything from this man at all because body language was like another language he’s fluent in (aside from the other 5). Unlucky for you, the saga continued.

“You’re so into dilfs, (Y/N)!” He shrieked in your ear, nudging your shoulder repetitively. He placed things in his own way, yet they always shocked you because it was so inappropriate. Typical Ten for you.

“Shut up, Ten!” You objected, watching the other performers. You’ve improved in ignoring his remarks over time. That was until Sicheng sat down beside you after his solo and got up in your business. That placed you in the middle of boys from the water sign clan of astrology. They just loved getting down to your love life, going raunchy and whatnot.

“Who’s into dilfs, Ten?”

“A Miss (Y/N) beside you, who met Minji’s dad awhile ago, was basically eye-fucking him.” Ten elaborated, planting his elbows on your leg and gave you a sneaky glare. “Minji’s dad is fine as fuck, guys! I’m telling you, like a literal god! I’m surprised this is the first time he showed up here after 2-3 years?”

“How come (Y/N) is always getting students with good-looking parents? Especially the single moms.” Sicheng slumped his shoulders, attempting to get your attention too. “Is he that hot, (Y/N)?”

“Yah.” Sighing with annoyance, you’ve given up trying to appreciate one of the corps dancers with her rendition of Dulcinea from Don Quixote. “Don’t speak of Johnny like that. You barely know the man, yet you talk about him so unprofessionally."

“Oh, Johnny is his name, huh?” Sicheng sing-songed, bobbing his head. He’s certainly going to stalk him later on social media, you felt it in your chest. Like it was ESPN or something.

“Talking about being unprofessional, yet you’re here referring him as Johnny, not Mr. Seo.” Ten barked back, his lips pursed and one eyebrow lifted.

Just as soon as you could retaliate, the artistic director’s velvety voice boomed the room.

“Alright, thank you to the performers. I will deliberate with the staff and principal dancers over the weekend, and let you know the results on Monday. Now please, let’s proceed to the center.”

Everyone began to spread out on the wide floor, snatching a good position so they could monitor themselves in the mirror. Maybe you’ll defend yourself later after class because now, you needed to beat everyone else and have a crystal-clear view of yourself doing these following exercises.

In the meantime, Johnny was in the middle of driving Minji home. He had a designated chauffeur, but he gave him the night off because he wanted to spend time with Minji. Around this time, she’d be sleeping soundly, but instead, she’s boosting with so much life. She hasn’t even eaten dinner yet, which was the first thing on Johnny’s agenda now.

Playing Coldplay in the car, Minji belted some lyrics from her favorite songs while Johnny smiled to himself while listening to her attentively. Taking a breath, her thoughts reverted to her fantastic ballet teacher and shared them with her father.

“Dad! Don’t you just think Teacher (Y/N) is so cool? Ugh, I want to be just like her when I grow up.”

“Oh, to become a ballerina like her, you have to work hard every day and memorize lessons fast. Are you up for it, Minji?”

“Absolutely, dad! I want to pull off perfect jumps and turns like her one day!”

In the other after-school activities Johnny enrolled Minji in the past, none of them compared to the passion she had for ballet. Her work ethic was alike to Johnny’s: if they want something, they’ll do whatever it takes to make it possible.

Aside from being a star student in her school, she’s aiming to be a star ballerina. Being the supportive father he is, Johnny was on board to do what it takes to make it happen. Unlike his parents trying to mold him into the next heir of their company, he’s all ears to the dreams of his daughter. His only dream for her was to be live long and happy, not to merely pass on anything.

Johnny lost so much in his young life, so he doesn’t want to lose Minji in any way. As much as he loves his profession, he wanted to be an active father as much as time allowed it. He mostly received complaints from others that he’s not prioritizing his time well, but after hearing your kind words, this heavy weight on his shoulders decreased. All this doubt started to vanish after meeting you for the first time.

“Dad! Isn’t Teacher (Y/N) so beautiful?” Minji honored whilst gazing at the twinkling night sky. “She loves what she does and shines at it.”

Johnny was accustomed to his female co-workers throwing themselves at him due to his attractiveness, more than flattered even to have them feeling weak for him. Yes, there were times he used it to his advantage, some he frankly turned down. 

However, the radiance you carried whether you’re dancing or not was something Johnny couldn’t cease wondering about. Unknown to him, he’s the one getting weak. Behold, an unlocked first for the confident CEO.

“Yes, Minji. I do think Teacher (Y/N) is absolutely beautiful.”

#nct #nct x reader #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct angst #nct fluff #nct 127 #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 angst #nct 127 fluff #johnny suh #suh johnny #seo youngho #nct johnny x reader #nct johnny #johnny x reader #johnny angst #johnny fluff #johnny silverhand #nct 127 johnny #johnny suh x reader #johnny suh imagines #johnny suh scenarios

[reidsmemory]

Daycare

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Y/N is a high school teacher and Hotch’s niece. She meets the BAU one morning and feels a connection with one of the agents. A few weeks later she is involved in a kidnapping and has to get her students to safety. 

Genre: Action with some fluff

Quinn Speaks: Okay so I kinda got off track here and it’s more of a bad ass reader fic but I wrote the bulk of this at like 2 am. I hope you all enjoy and let me know if you want a part 2!!

not my gif!

     Your day started at 3 am. That’s right, 3 am. The buzzing noise of your phone woke you out of your slumber as you picked up the device and brought it up to your face, the blinding white light made your eyes adjust immediately. Uncle Aaron was listed as the caller ID and a picture of him, Jack, and yourself was also shown on the screen. 

     “Hello?” you said in your best ‘you totally didn’t wake me’ voice which really ended up being your ‘I’ve been dead for 5 years and been just revived’ voice instead.

     “Y/N, I’m really sorry, but I need you to come in to BAU. We just caught a case and I can’t a sitter for Jack so he’s here with me and-” the man would have kept rambling about the situation if you hadn’t cut him off.

     “No problem, Uncle Aaron. I’ll be there in 25 minutes.” You threw off your covers and began to walk over to your bathroom. 

     “You’re a lifesaver, thanks Y/N.” You hummed and he promptly hung up the call. You flipped on the light switch and saw that you had indeed looked like you had been dead for 5 years. You sighed and got to work. 

     You usually babysat Jack when Aaron was out of town for a case and your flat had become a second home for Jack. It wasn’t like that hadn’t happened before, him calling you about a case and needing you to watch Jack, no of course not. But he would usually call you a couple hours in advance or it would be during hours of the day when you were actually awake and running around. 

     You finished getting your hair to look quite decent all things considered and your teeth brushed and your face was washed. You decide to just throw a cardigan over your tank top and shorts and you made your way to the front door, grabbing your keys, phone, and some snacks for Jack as well as slipping on your strappy, tan sandals. 

     You locked your door and walked to the elevator on your floor and pressed the parking garage button. The elevator hummed as it went down and you yawned, stretching a bit as well.

     The doors dinged open and you made your way to your car and started to drive off. To keep your eyes awake, you played a classic rock station that was full of guitar solos and drum bangs that would surely keep you up. You pulled into a little drive through and got some coffees for yourself, your uncle, and his team as well as a hot chocolate for Jack.

     “25.96 is your total,” the cashier at the window said as you handed her your card. She was still ringing it up as she turned to you, “so, what’s got you up at 3 am and grabbing a shit load of coffee?”

     You chuckled lightly at her words, “babysitting emergency.” 

     She gave you a grin and handing you your card. “Well, good luck,” she said while handing you the holder for all the drinks as well as the drinks themselves. 

     “Thank you, have a good morning,” you said with a light smile.

     “Ditto.” She closed the windows and smiled as you drove off, you still had about 10 minutes to get to the BAU. Traffic was light which worked in your favor as well as living pretty close to the building. 

     You parked and started to get out with the coffees as you made your way to the entrance. You stepped inside as the security guards scanned you and checked the drinks and you were finally able to make your way up to the designated floor with a visitor pass.

     A woman with black hair came into elevator as well and you both exchanged good mornings and a light smiles. She was no doubt judging the outfit you were wearing, wondering where in the federal government you work that allowed you to come into work wearing your a sleep top and shorts as well as a big cardigan. 

     You both stepped out on the same floor and you made your way through the bullpen and straight to your uncle’s office.

     Emily watched you walk off and she furrowed her eyebrows, she had never seen you at the BAU before and now you were walking into her boss’ office with coffees and in your pj’s. “Do you know who that is?” she asked Spencer as he looked up from some paper work.

     “Who?” he asked as Emily discreetly pointed in your direction. Spencer furrowed his brows as he had never seen you before. He watched you walk up the small amount of stairs to Hotch’s office and noticed that you also had a visitor pass in you hand as well a some coffees. 

     “Spencer?” Emily said as he continued to watch you. “Reid!” she snapped in front of his face as he finally brought his attention back to Emily. He looked at her and quickly stole glances at you when he though she wasn’t watching. 

     She noticed. 

     Emily grinned at the younger man as he turned his attention back to Emily and blushed lightly, deciding to return to the papers in front of him, but not without sneaking another glance at you. 

     Your uncle opened the door and ushered you into his office where Jack was sleeping on the couch. “Thank you for coming,” his voice was quiet and you just smiled as he brought you into a hug. 

     “I got coffees for you and your team; needed one myself and figured you guys would want some too,” you whispered as Hotch smiled lightly and took the carrier from you. “So what happened?”

     “Missing child in Louisiana. He was over at a friends for a sleepover and was nabbed about an hour ago.” You nodded and frowned a bit as did your uncle.

     “Well, good thing they’ve got the best on the job,” you tried to lighten the mood as he held a closed lipped smile. “Don’t worry about us, we’ll be fine.” 

     He nodded his head and grabbed some files from his desk and headed to the door of his office. You smiled at him as he said his goodbyes to Jack, waking him. 

     Hotch closed the door and was met by the stares of his team, “we’ll have to brief on the plane. There’s been a missing child report in Louisiana so wheels up in 10.” The team nodded and started to pack up and get ready. “My niece got us all fresh coffee as well,” he walked down the stairs and put the tray on an empty table. 

     “Y/N’s here?” Morgan asked as Hotch nodded. “She is a lifesaver.”

     “My words exactly,” he said and walked away as the team went to grab the drinks. 

     You put Jack on your hip and started to walk out of the office. You closed the door and turned around as you were greeted by the warm smile of Derek Morgan.

     “Morning, Hotcakes,” he teased as you smiled widely. You walked down the stairs as he pulled you into a side hug seeing as Jack was clinging to your other side. You both pulled away as he started up again, “thanks for the drinks.”

     “Course, I figured you guys would be as tired as me,” you said nonchalantly as he nodded. You saw the other pairs of eyes on you and quickly introduced yourself, “sorry, i’m Y/N. Aaron’s niece.”

     They nodded at your words as Rossi made his way over to you. “Nice to see you again, Kiddo,” he hugged you the same way Morgan had and you smiled at the older man. 

     “Jennifer Jareau, but I go by JJ,” she stuck out her hand as you smiled at her and shook it. 

     “Emily Prentiss.” The raven haired woman did the same as JJ as she shook you hand and smiled.

     “Uh, Spencer Reid,” the taller brunette man told you as you shot him a small smile seeing as he didn’t offer a handshake. “I wasn’t aware that Hotch had a niece,” he said.

     “Oh, yeah. I moved out here a few months ago for Hotch and Jack,” you told them.

     “Where do you work?” JJ asked.

     “I’m a teacher at Philip Moore High School.”

     “Yeah, Miss. Y/N is the best history teacher,” Derek teased a you rolled your eyes with a small smile on your face. 

     “Alright, I better get out of your guys’ hair and get this little one out of here,” you told them as they nodded. “Good luck with the case.” You smiled at them and gave Morgan on last side hug before you were walking through the bullpen and towards the elevator. 

     Spencer watched as you went and felt a clap on his back from Derek. He whipped around and saw the older man smiling. “Somebody got a crush on the teacher?” he singsonged as Spencer’s cheeks flamed pink. 

     “From the minute I pointed her out to him,” Emily recalled as she chuckled a it, “the chatty doctor turns into a gaping teenage boy.” Spencer heard JJ snicker as he felt his cheeks heat up even further. 

     The door of the BAU opened as they all whipped around and saw Hotch standing with his go bag and some files, “lets go.”

***

     It was a few weeks later and the case had gone great from what your uncle told you. They had found the kid and caught the creep who took him within the 24 hour rule they set up. 

     You stood by a yellow school bus and held a roster of names in your hand. “Alright!” you yelled out as mostly all the kids quieted down. “I’m gonna let everyone sit where they want as long as the volume doesn’t get too loud, yeah?”

     There was a mix of yes’ and okay’s in the crowd of 25 or so sophomores. Today you were taking a trip to the nations capital, a tradition for this school. The kids would go see a historical museum and take a tour of the White House, then you all would eat lunch downtown and then the kids go to vote on whether they wanted to go to another museum or go see a historical show. 

     “Lets get going then.” The kids filed onto the bus as you marked the names to the faces. Your co-worker was standing next to you and handing kids their badges and name tags. 

     Once everyone was on the bus, you turned to the slightly older man. “Ready to go?” he asked you as you nodded. Both of you climbed on the bus and the kids quieted down as Mr. Greene opened his mouth, “Alright you all know the drill, no wondering off, no yelling or running, and stick with your partners!” 

     They all nodded and said a variation of yes.

     “I can take the middle if you want the front,” you told him as he nodded and you headed towards one of the benches you had put your bag on. A mix of girls and boys were around it and you were glad that you were on the younger side so that you could somewhat understand what they were talking about. 

     “Miss. Hotchner!” a boy called as you turned to face him. “Do you have any games for the ride?” This got the attention of the kids around you. 

     “Sure,” you started, trying to think of something to keep the teen engaged and interested. “Whoever can spot a red car with the letter q in the licences plate will get ice cream for them and their seat partner. Same thing goes for blue cars with a y.” The kids nodded and started conversing strategies on how they would do this. 

     You knew it was silly, but you would’ve loved if a teacher did this during your school trips. The bus started moving and you were soon pulling away from the school. 

***

     JJ walked into Hotch’s office, “We’ve got a case and need to go now.” He put down his pen and and grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair. 

     “Fill me in,” he said to JJ as he motioned for the rest of the team to get up. 

     “A bus full of high schoolers on their way to a field trip in DC. They never checked in to their morning tour or any other events. Parents can’t get a hold of kids and faculty can’t get in touch with the teachers on the trip.”

     “So it’s local. How long ago did the high school contact us?” he asked.

     “Not even 15 minutes ago,” JJ told him as he nodded. 

     “Let’s take the SUVs and set up at the high school,” he told the team as the nodded and grabbed their things and headed for the doors. They sped to the cars and split up; Hotch, Reid, JJ, and Morgan in one while Rossi, Emily, and Penelope were in the other. 

     “Alright,” JJ set up her phone so it was on speaker and connected to the other car. “26 kids and 2 teachers along with a bus driver were heading out for an annual field trip the school does for sophomores. No one on the bus has been able to be contacted and were supposed to be back at the school 45 minutes ago.”

     “What time did they take off?” Morgan asked.

     “7:15 am and their first activity was at 9:50 am which they never checked in for according to the museum,” JJ explained. 

     “Garcia,” Hotch started, “can you pull up the bus GPS?” 

     “On it, Sir!” she replied. They kept driving to the school and were within 7 minutes of the destination seeing as they had sped all the way there. The team talked more as Garcia was pulling stuff up. Hotch pulled into the school and payed no attention to the sign as they did so. 

     They hopped out of the car and were met with the principal who had a grief stricken face. “Thank you so much for coming,” he spoke, “James Randalf, I’ll take you guys to the room we’re set up in.”

     “SSA Aaron Hotchner,” he said as he stuck out his hand. The man shook it but held a weird look on his face. “What is it?” Hotch asked.

     “You said Hotchner?” he asked as Aaron nodded, “Any relation to Y/N Hotchner?”

     “Yes, she’s my niece. This is Philip Moore High School?” The principal nodded as they walked through the hallway. He opened to door for the team swiftly as he stepped in. 

     “She’s one of the teacher’s that was on the bus.” Hotch paled at the man’s words as the rest of the team did a double take. Spencer had been to immersed in the case file and hadn’t seen the name of the high school as they pulled up or he would’ve at least connected the dots a bit faster. 

     “Get started,” Hotch said as he pulled out his phone rung your number up. The phone stayed ringing and no one picked up as Aaron cursed under his breath. “Garcia I need you to get the GPS of this number,” Hotch read your number and thought to himself that you always kept your GPS on and he urged you to do it one day as you took Jack.

     “Just in case anything happens, alright?”

     “Nothing will happen to us, but okay,” you said with as smile as Jack giggled in your arms.

     “Got the location, Sir,” Garcia said as Hotch snapped out of the trance he was in. 

     “Call for a SWAT car. Morgan, Emily, Reid, Rossi lets go,” Hotch ordered as they all nodded and followed the man out of the building, all hoping to find you and the kids.

***

     “Everyone just stay calm!” the man yelled as he entered the bus with another man behind him. The bus driver reached for his walkie-talkie and the second man shot him right in his forehead. The kids around you were whimpering and crying as you tried to be discreet about your movements.

     You grabbed the pepper spray from you bag and put it down your bra as well as taking your small pocket knife and putting it in your shoe. Students looked to you as you held up a finger to your mouth and nodded at them, gesturing for them to listen and stay quiet.

     “We don’t want to hurt anyone else,” the first man started, “we just want everyone to stay calm and stay quiet. We won’t kill you.”

     “Phones now,” the second said as he came around with a sack as kids put their phones in. You kept your head down and did the same, he didn’t seem to realize you were a teacher. He walked back up the aisle and pointed his gun at Mr. Greene. “Red, up,” he said referring to the color of the man’s shirt. He instructed Greene to move the bus driver out of his seat and onto the side of the road. Once he was finished he stood back up and both men stepped outside and shot him as well as dumping the phones.

     You took this opportunity to turn to the kids next to you. “Only call me by my first name, Y/N,” you told them as they nodded, “pass it on.” They whispered to each other and you were pretty sure that all the students knew what to do now.

     They stepped back on the bus and one of the men got into the driver’s seat while the other stepped to the aisle at the front of the bus. “Everyone is gonna quiet up. You all are a special bunch, parents in high position, rich, and willing to do whatever they can to get back their precious children.” The other man laughed as he started up the bus. “If I see anyone trying to communicate with the outside I will not hesitate to blow your head off. No talking and we wont have a problem.”

     He sat where Mr.Greene did as the other man started to drive off. Some kids kept their heads down and others near you looked to you. You signaled that everything was going to be okay and that you would kept them safe. 

     There had to be a way to warn you uncle where you were going. 

***

     At the sight, the team found two bodies and all of the cellphones. Hotch cursed silently as did the rest of the team. Spencer walked up and down the road as something had caught his eye. He picked up a folded piece of paper and opened it carefully. 

     “Do you have something, Kid?” Morgan asked as he nodded and walked over to the agents. 

     He unfolded the note and showed them as Hotch spoke up, “that’s Y/N’s handwriting.”

     2 men, White. 5′11 & 5′9. 190 and 170 lb. Aggressive and passive. Friends.

     The note had the team smiling as you had been able to give a clue of what they had to look for. “Definitely a Hotchner,” Rossi joked as Aaron smiled lightly at the man’s words. 

     “Lets get this back to Garcia, see if she can get a match.” The team nodded at their section leader’s words. 

     Spencer held the note in his hand and smiled to himself, he had only met you once, but you were proving to be very resourceful as well smart. This made his small crush grow into a full blown one and now he just had to get you back.

***

     They had taken you all to an abandoned barn about 3 hour drive at top speed. They tied you all up and made you all sit as they quickly made their way to a van that was parked in the barn. They had taken the boys to another location and left the the girls in the barn.

     As soon as you heard the car pull away you looked around for any cameras and saw that their were none. Girls whispered to each other as you soon gained their attention, “everyone listen up,” their eyes where on you. “We are going to get out of here alright?” They nodded as you quickly assessed the situation. 

     “What are you going to do, Miss. Hotchner?” one of the girls asked.

     “Get out of these.” You took the pocket knife from your shoe and switched it open. “Here,” you said handing it to one of the girls, “cut these open.” She nodded and did as you told her. Soon the zip ties where off your hands and you took the knife back from her and cut the zip ties around your feet. 

     You quickly did the same to the rest of the girl as you were all free now. “We move together. If they come back I’ll hold them off and the rest of you run and get help. Get my uncle, his name is Aaron Hotchner and he works for the FBI. Take this,” you grabbed the pepper spray and handed it to one of the girls, “use it if you have a good shot and pick up anything you can defend yourself with.”

     They nodded and you lead the way out of the barn. The van was no where in sight and you were good to go. You started going a different path than the main road in as to avoid the men. 

     You were able to walk with the girls for a good couple hours as you soon saw a gas station. You walked in with the girls and told the man behind the counter your predicament, he was about to dial the police as the door opened and a man walked in. One of the men who kidnapped you all. 

     He shot the man behind the counter and the girls froze. “Thought you could get away that easy?” he said as you gripped the knife in you hand behind your back. He came closer and pointed the gun at you all. “Lets go!” he yelled as some of the girls flinched. He got closer as you were able to tackle him the the ground. 

     His gun went off and slid to the side as the girl watched you and him fight.  You were able to flip him on his stomach and grab the keys out of his pocket. You threw them at the girls direction and yelled, “go! Like we talked about! Get to a big city and don’t stop!” He manged to flip you over and push you to the ground as you gritted you teeth and saw the girls run out of the shop and to the van. 

     You kneed him in the sweet spot as he crumbled above you and you got up on your feet and went to the gun but were tackled to the ground as your face slammed down. He turned you over and held down your hands as he delivered a punch to your face.

     This went on for a while; you and him struggling and giving each other bruises that would hurt for days. You were finally able to knock him out, by slamming his head against the hard floor. 

     You stood up and took the gun and knife as you were able to make your way out of the store and to the little car sitting outside. You broke the passengers side window and unlocked the car and made your way over to the drivers side to hot wire the car. You fumbled with wires and finally got the car to start as you heard a chime from the store entrance. The man was coming out as you pulled out as he tried to chase you as you stuck the gun out your window and were able to hit him in the leg as he fell to the ground. All those times training with your uncle had finally paid off. 

     You knew it was stupid, but you couldn’t help but go back to the direction of the barn. You hadn’t seen any structures where they could’ve keep the boys and you had to get them to safety. You had promised them. 

***

     A white van pulled up to the front of the school about 2 hours after the BAU had gotten there. The girls filed out and made their way inside the building as they saw the cars parked out in front and figured their would be someone there. The doors were open and they walked in and were met with shocked faces of the staff. 

     The staff got the agents as they made their way to the front of the school. Aaron watched as the girls look around clearly nervous and distraught. “We need to conduct interviews now.” The team nodded as they each took one of the girls into a classroom. JJ gathered all the parents with daughters and told them the good news. 

     Spencer and Aaron sat with one of the girls. “Start at the beginning.”

     The girl told them about the barn and how you had gotten them out and then the walk to the gas station and how you had fought with the man as you told them to go and get help. “Do any of you know Aaron Hotchner? Miss. Hotchner told us to get him and he would know what to do.”

     “That would be me,” Aaron spoke as she nodded. 

     “She saved us and I feel so bad for just leaving her there, with that man,” she shuddered at the thought. “Do you think he killed her?” she whispered to them as both Spencer and Hotch paled at the thought.

     “I don’t think so,” Spencer spoke honestly, “Miss. Hotchner is very resourceful and you said she had the upper hand, right?” The girl nodded as Spencer smiled. “I’m sure she’s fine and you did just what she told you. You don’t have to feel guilty.” 

     She left the room and was soon reunited with her parents. 

     “We need to get to the gas station,” Hotch said as Spencer nodded. “Half of us will go there and the other half to the barn. We can have Garcia see if the car had GPS and if she can retrace where it’s been.”

     The team regrouped and Garcia was able to get 3 locations in the vicinity. They split up accordingly and headed out to the locations.

***

     You had scoped out a small building. It had no cars in front of it and was the the closest building to the barn you had been in earlier. You knew you could either go in guns a-blazing, but the man inside would have the kids as leverage and you knew you had to take him out as soon as possible or at least injure him. 

     You held the gun in your hand and quickly made your way to the building as you looked into one of the windows and saw the boys all tied up and the man sitting with as concerned look on his face. You devised your plan and figured it would be easier to lure him out. You walked back to the car and put pressure on the horn as it continued to make noise as the heavy stick pressing against it held.

     The man came out as you hid behind a tree and waited for him to have his back to you. Once this happened you fired your gun and hit him in the back of his leg. He dropped to the ground and his gun went forward. You ran over and picked it up as he cried out and started cussing at you. 

     “You stupid bitch! You’re gonna pay for this!” he screamed.

     “Sure, buddy,” you said in an amused voice. You put the guns down as you turned him on his back and took the branch for the car and hit his jaw with it as he passed out. You put it down and checked his pulse, still alive. You opened up the trunk of the car and held him in an army carry as you put him in the small space as you closed and locked the trunk. You jogged over to the building and opened the door to see around 17 teenage boys looking at you with more fear than you had ever seen. 

     “Miss. Hotchner!” one said as you smiled and got out your knife and began getting the zip-ties off of them. 

     “Is everyone okay? Anyone hurt?” They all said no to your question as nodded and finished getting everyone free.

     “What happened to the girls?” one boy asked. 

     “They are hopefully with my uncle and making sure someone comes for us soon,” you told them as they nodded. “You’ll all get the full story when we get out of here, okay?” 

     You lead them out of the small building and told them to stay there. They did as told as you brought the car over and made sure to keep an eye on the man inside if he did manage to escape. 

     After waiting for a hour or so in the dark, a black SUV pulled up along with a swat car. 

     “Everyone put you hands up, it’s alright,” you told them as you placed down the gun and knife and put you hands above your head. The boys followed in suit and you soon saw your uncle get out of the car.

     “Guns down! It’s just the kids!” he made his way over to you as you hugged him tightly. You groaned lightly as he pulled away. “Are you alright?” You nodded and gestured towards the kids as your uncle understood. 

     Spencer came over to you as smiled lightly at him. Your face was littered with cuts and bruises and even a bit of blood that was dried on your face. “Hey, Spencer,” you said as he smiled lightly. “There’s one of the douche bags in the trunk.” You pointed as he nodded at you words.

     “Can I get some cuffs and a guy over here!” he yelled out as he made his way over to the trunk. A SWAT guy had his gun up as you unlocked the trunk and the man tumbled out. 

     He immediately started yelling, “where is that bitch!” he lunged at you from the ground as the SWAT cuffed him and brought him into custody. You closed the trunk and swiftly sat atop it. You winced slightly as Spencer was quick to come by your side. 

     “You’re hurt,” he said frowning as you nodded at his word. 

     “Got thrown around a bit,” you joked. He quickly went over to the SUV and got back to you as he was now holding a first-aid kit. He set it down on the trunk and quickly got to work on your face. 

     You cuts had stopped bleeding by now, but they were still open and Spencer delicately wiped them down and placed a few bandages on your face. You swore he was blushing, but it was too hard to tell in the dark. 

     He finished cleaning up your face and Hotch quickly thanked him. You got into the stolen car as 3 of the boys got in with you as well as Spencer and he started to drive off to the school.

***

     Spencer pulled up to the school as you all got out of the car. Parents were waiting outside the car and the boys rushed to them as they all let out cries. You smiled at the sight and had also asked Spencer about the fate of the girls earlier and were grateful for that as well. You made your way over to a paramedic and she checked you out and quickly realized that you had in fact a minor dislocated your shoulder. 

     “Seriously?” you asked as she nodded.

     “It was probably the adrenaline that allowed you body to over look it. That with the other bruises all over your body, your mind probably thought it was just one of those,” she explained. “I’ll have to pop it back in place.” You grimaced and nodded as she made her way over to your side. 

     Hotch was by your side as you stuck out your hand and he took it. Some of the students were watching, worried for you. 

     “Big breath in,” she told you as you followed her instructions and she quickly popped it back into place. You shoulder cracked loudly and you yelped a bit and turned some heads. “Alright, you’ll have to treat it with care and it might swell, but you are good to go Miss. Hotchner.”

     “Thank you,” you told her with a light smile and you hopped of the back of the ambulance. Your uncle rubbed you back as you looked to him. “How’s Jack?” you asked as he smiled at your question. 

     “He’s fine. Will, JJ’s husband, is watching him.” You nodded at his response and made your way to the school as he still had to pack up some stuff. “I’m driving you home and don’t even think about coming into work tomorrow.” You laughed as he smiled at you. 

     “Miss. Hotchner!” Your name was called you looked to your uncle and quickly departed to got talk to the families. 

     “Is everything alright?” you asked the father as he nodded. 

     “We,” he gestured towards all the parents, “wanted to thank you for saving our kids and keeping them safe.” A few mothers and fathers were crying and kids were smiling at you lightly.

     “Of course, i’m just glad that everyone is okay,” you told them truthfully. A girl came up to you and hugged you tightly as more kids came up and eventually the whole class was in a big group hug as some of them cried a bit, you surely teared up. They pulled away when your uncle came out and you bid the adieu and goodnight as you made your way over to Hotch. 

     “Ready?” he asked as you walked to your car. 

     You bit your lip. “One moment.” You made your way over to the young doctor and tapped him on the shoulder as he whipped around.  “Spencer,” you spoke softly as he looked at you and paused on working on your face. “Would you want to get dinner on Friday?”

     Spencer looked at you with wide eyes and couldn’t help but smile widely at your question.         

     “It’s just, I almost died a few time today and I don’t want to do anything that  would regret, which would include not asking you out. I know it’s bad timing and it’s totally fine if you don’t want to and-”

     You would’ve kept rambling, but Spencer cut you off, “I would love to have dinner on Friday with you.” You smiled at the man as he smiled back and now you were sure of the blush on his cheeks. 

     “Cool, um, do you have a pen?” you asked as he nodded and fumbled to get a pen from his bag. You smiled at him and took his palm as you wrote out your phone number and handed it back to him. “See you on Friday.” You smiled brightly as he nodded. You pecked his cheek and turned around quickly and was met with a surprised look on your uncles’ face.

     Spencer blushed brightly and brought a hand up to his face to check if that had actually happened. Derek came up behind him and smiled widely as he clapped him on the back. 

     “Finally got the girl! Good job man!” Derek told him as he smiled widely and was met with happy smiles from the rest of the team.

     “Dinner on Friday!” he gushed as they cheered and clapped a bit. All happy that the man had gotten some good new for once. 

      Dinner on Friday.

#criminal minds #criminal minds self insert #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x oc #emily prentiss #derek morgan #aaron hotchner #david rossi #Penelope Garcia #jennifer jareau #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst

[notnctu]

through the lens ❀ l.jn

❀ lee jeno x fem!reader ❀ genre - slow burn, smut/mature content, fluff (romance?), slight angst ❀ details - photographer!jeno, model!reader, college!au, shy!jeno but he aint shy in bed, strangers to fuckers!au ❀ word count - 8k (this is the longest thing ive ever written) ❀ warnings - nude modeling, swearing, oral (f/receiving), some sweet love makin’ ❀ brief synopsis - jeno asks you to model for his internship project, but little did you know, it was going to be a nude photo shoot.  

❝ jeno was too shy to hold eye contact, but he stared at you endlessly through the lens. ❞

❀ a/n - hihihi this is author doie❀ ! im bad at writing smut so pls dont hate me ah ha lol i tried my best i also dont model/do professional photography so really apologize if i butcher any terms lmaoo the only thing i am is that im in college and im shy

Jeno had applied to almost a hundred internships and almost close to none returned with an offer, even after a whole month of waiting. He absolutely needed to start building his portfolio before the beginning of his senior year of college. The embarrassment of possibly graduating without any experience loomed over the desperate boy. 

Photography had been more than a hobby to him, to the point where he wanted to take it seriously. His parents weren’t the most supportive of an Arts major, but that couldn’t stop him. Jeno saw the best through a camera lens. He had a special eye for beautiful moments and the impressing urge to capture it forever. 

It was too late to change his major, if he wanted to graduate with all of his friends. If he wanted to be successful, he had to act on it now. 

The swoosh! of a new email startled the sleeping boy. He stared at the brightly lit screen, reading the words over and over again to make sure it was real. Jeno was so enthralled with excitement that he scrambled out of bed to wake up his roommate, Jaemin.

He shook him so violently that the sheets fell from Jaemin’s warm body. “Dude! I got an internship!” He spoke with incredible glee, a wide smile couldn’t leave his face.

Jaemin groaned and had to hold Jeno by the shoulders to halt the boy from causing the room to spin. “Why--What is going on?” He dazely rubbed his tired eyes to blink at his giddy roommate.

The screen blinded Jaemin as it was shoved too closely to adjust. “Whoa--,” he pushed it away and shut his eyes, “--repeat what you just said one more time.” Jaemin held a finger up and Jeno grabbed it, jumping onto his best friend’s bed.

“I got an internship. Someone got back to me.” Jaemin returned the same excitement the moment he processed his words. He shot up in bed and hugged his friend tightly. 

“Wo-w, dude! Congratulations!” The two boys hurried on their feet to cheer together. There was no concern for the rest of their housemates, only celebration that roared throughout the entire night.

+

Truthfully, Jeno had no recollection of applying to this studio. It could have been a random link on a job scouting website, but he couldn’t be more grateful. An internship was long overdue and Jeno had been itching to get some recognition for his craft. 

“Hello, I’m Lee Jeno.” He bowed slightly at the receptionist, who had a stern stare that made him feel vulnerable. The first thing he noted about the office: white and minimalistic. 

Jeno’s specialty was landscape photography. His aesthetics consisted of black and white filters, city lights, dark mood lighting, and background commotion. He enjoyed capturing chaos the most, a scene where more than one thing was happening. The only reason being that there was more to look at. 

“Nice to meet you. The name is Lee Taemin, but you can call me what you please.” A young, lean man strolled his way towards Jeno with a wide grin and his hand for him to shake. Taemin was slightly shorter than him, but his stylish, expensive boots made up for his height. He had to be only a maximum of five years older than Jeno as Taemin appeared relatively youthful. 

Taemin’s firm grip pulled Jeno along inside the studio. A small gasp escaped from Jeno which earned robust laughter from the older man. “I hope you can break out of your shell soon. There is no room for timidness around here, Mister Lee.”

“Please, you can call me Jeno.” He smiled, quite awkwardly at the beautiful man. 

The tall glass windows, the concrete, gray floor, the white doors that lined the hallway, had to be all too predictable. Jeno envisioned this is what high class must look like. It was the pristine, bright feeling and the smell of vanilla that lingered distastefully. There was chatter behind the closed doors --- mainly directing, and high praises. 

The only off-put was that photographers worked behind closed doors. From the few studios he has visited previously, photographers often worked in open spaces due to lighting fractures or the ability to roam more freely. 

“I’m actually very ecstatic you signed up for the internship, since you do seem a bit on the younger side.” Taemin gestured toward the sofa in the middle of his massive office. Jeno sat across from him. Water was already placed on the glass coffee table that separated the two. A laptop was opened to face Taemin.

Jeno slyly rubbed the condensation from his palms on his jeans. Taemin’s stare bore deep into the shy boy, who had to break eye contact from time to time. “I know.” Jeno chuckled nervously, “thank you for getting back to me. I was really hoping to gain work experience through mentorship.” 

Taemin nodded at everything Jeno was saying. His face being completely expressionless. Jeno sipped his water to regain moisture in his dry throat. Taemin was more intimidating than he was anticipating. “Sounds great. Happy to have you here. It might be a small business, but the experience is worth investing in. Every photographer who has come in and out of my building has found their forte. Let’s say, it’s eye opening.” 

“That’s exactly what I was looking for actually.” As scared as he was of this mysterious man, he really enjoyed the comfort the environment radiated. 

Taemin leaned forward and squinted at the screen. “I noticed in the portfolio you sent that you don’t have any portraits or any people, in general, in your photos. Do you have any works with people? Since this is a studio of fine art nude photography.”

Nude. Jeno practically choked on the last remaining spit he gathered. Taemin acknowledged the boy’s shocked reaction and tilted his head curiously, “you did know that I specialize in contemporary fine art nude photography, right?” Unfortunately, Jeno did not. 

Jeno cleared his throat, “yes, of course. I wanted to challenge myself.” He had to lie, there was no other way to cover up his disbelief. This internship was the only hope left for him to gain something. Though, even the thought of shooting a naked body made him anxious.

He hated how timid he was. His friends and family say otherwise, mainly for the reason that Jeno automatically lit up behind a camera. In all honesty, he hid behind it. It was the only safe place that Jeno knew what he was doing. However when it came to real life situations without it, he lacked the confidence to be himself.

As ironic as it was, he hated being seen. He liked to be the background character in his own life, because the main character took too much of a toll. It could also be his deafening insecurities and lack of self esteem, but Jeno didn’t mind not being the center of attention.

“You like a challenge?” It was more of a statement rather than a question. Jeno caught a glimpse of the twinkle in Taemin’s dark eyes. “Then for your first task, I want you to show me that you can take on this role.”

Jeno scrambled for his phone to jot down notes. “Send me an emotional portfolio, model of your choice. They could be a friend of yours that you feel comfortable seeing naked. It must include a variation of headshots, full body, and body details. It must also be raw and unedited photos. I want to see if you have the eye for the art to capture these types of images.”

“When would you like it by?” He stammered, completely winded at the sudden project that unloaded on top of him. 

“Next Friday, and you’ll present it to me here in person. Feel free to use this studio if you don’t have a place of your own with equipment. All you need to do is book a room with the front desk. Any other questions?” The sound of the laptop shutting caused Jeno to look up at the brilliance in front of him. He needed Taemin to help him succeed. 

“Why do you take nude photography?” 

Taemin was unable to stop the laughter that erupted into the room. “I don’t run a pimp business or sell soft core porn, if that’s why you’re staring at me so funnily. What I make is an art masterpiece, it has nothing to do with physical features or desires. It’s the pure emotion that clothing distracts from. Clothing conforms the model into an aesthetic, and while that works for editorials, it won’t be a consistent thing here.” 

Jeno nodded understandingly. Overwhelmed and lost at words. He was unsure what he had gotten himself into. Where was he going to find a model on such short notice on such lewd conditions? He was really going to need to step out of his comfortable zone, in his photography and social skills. 

Taemin stood up and extended his hand once more. “I take pride in my art, so I hope you, too, start finding that in your own.” 

+

Jaemin held his stomach from the endless laughter, tears welling up in his eyes. “Nud-Nude photography? And you didn’t know?”

“Jaemin, keep it down.” Jeno whispered and cautiously peered around at the few people flooding into the small lecture hall. “I don’t want everyone in our club to misunderstand and think I’m some creep.”

His best friend straightened up in his seat and placed his hand on Jeno's slumped shoulder, “first of all, you’re a complete idiot for not researching. Secondly, it’s an art form. If you really got yourself a shady, rated R internship, I would’ve told you to drop it instantly.” 

His spirits were slightly lifted, but he was still struggling with who he should ask to model for him. As much as he’s already seen of Jaemin, being his roommate, he honestly would rather leave the rest to imagination. Jeno wasn’t purposefully searching the room for a candidate, but he could not stop his eyes from drifting.

He spotted the most attractive side profile that sat two rows below him. He shook his head to make sure he was seeing her correctly. Peering around, he looked for another possible face to shoot. But oh god, how she caught his eye every time she even slightly moved.

You smiled happily with your friends by your side as your club’s executive board members introduced this year’s goals and events to attend. It had to be the smallest amount of alcohol still running in your system that caused you to giggle every time guys tried to turn around and hit on you.

“Why don’t you focus on our club members instead?” You smirked at the smug older boy, who had poorly attempted to grab your attention. “I think this information is important to you. These events could help you develop your social skills to be much better.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, but your girl friends scoffed by your side.

He got up in disbelief and quickly walked out of the room. There was a brief pause at the sudden movement, but the announcement carried on per usual.

Jeno impatiently waited for the club meeting to finally be over, so he could talk to you. The longer it dragged, the more his confidence was subsiding. “I’m heading to study, wanna come with?” Jaemin poked at Jeno’s knee.

“Yeah, but you can go ahead first. I need to talk to someone.” His voice was shaky and his throat went so dry. Jeno’s shifty eyes scanned the room, hoping no one saw how nervous he was acting.

Jaemin’s eyebrows lifted suspiciously, “who? I didn’t even know you talked to anyone who came today. Donghyuck and Renjun aren’t here---”

“--her, Jaemin... her. I’m going to ask her to model for me.” Jeno motioned his head. His heart beating faster at seeing a small grin appear on your face from a comment someone made.

Jaemin hummed, “good luck with that, bud. I’ve got two shoulders for you to cry on after.” The extra hint of sarcasm only made Jeno sweat nervously. He was seriously doubting his decision, but it wouldn’t be a challenge if he didn’t do it. He knew he’d regret it more if he didn’t just ask you. 

Once the meeting was dismissed, you wanted to get out of the room before the heavy rush into the hallways. Unfortunately, a few frat guys pulled you into their conversation and chatted up a storm. Your friends played into their foolery, but you stopped paying attention when they asked for your numbers.

There was a faint tap on your shoulder and you turned to see who the culprit was. You didn’t seem to know him, because you would’ve remembered such a demeanor. His eyes were glued to the floor behind you and his shaky hands ran through his brown locks. His shyness was quite endearing, yet alarming since you weren’t sure why exactly he had approached you.

“Yes?” You asked curiously.

The moment Jeno heard your delicate cadence, he melted like a popsicle left out in the sun. He peered up, but quickly reverted his eyes to the white tiles when he noticed how beautifully you stared at him.

He counted his breathing to calm his rapid heart beat. He cleared his throat to introduce himself, “I’m Jeno. I’m a third year Arts major, um-- I was just--- I know we don’t know each other. I wanted to ask, uh-” Jeno was horrified at how he stammered over his own words. His cheeks burned with a red glow, and if he couldn’t look you in the eye before, he definitely couldn’t now.

“Hey, see you later.” One of the bulky frat guys called and you waved back weakly. 

A guy who had been chasing you endlessly scoffed at the pitiful sight and smirked at you, “see you at my house tonight? Been missing you in my bed lately.”

“Thought you would’ve guessed the reason why I stopped coming around.” Jeno heard the sting in your remarks and the disbelief in the male. 

You honestly could have left, Jeno knew that. But you stayed and waited patiently for him to finish. Jeno could tell how strong you were just by your intimidating aura that practically suffocated him by standing in close proximity to you.

You sighed and reached to grab your jacket on the folded seat, “look, Jeno. It’s nice to meet you and all, but I gotta get going.” 

Shockingly, the shy boy reached out to stop you by your fingertips. His touch lingered before he dropped your hand quickly. “I’m sorry. Are you free this Monday?”

“Uh, that depends. If you’re asking me on a date, then I’m busy.” Rolling your eyes, you weren’t sure why you still stayed to listen to what this random stranger had to say. If it were anyone else, you would’ve walked away the moment he asked if you were free. However, you acknowledged his timidness and the courage he must have mustered up to approach you.

Jeno shook his head violently, completely in shambles from that type of misunderstanding. “Not a date. I need someone to model for my portfolio photos that my internship assigned. It’s actually very important to me because it’s the first internship that responded back to me when I had applied to so many a whole month ago. Basically, I really need this and you because I think you’d be perfect to take pictures of. Oh-- wow! That sounded very bad --- uh --- what I meant is that your facial proportions are perfect and---”

“I’m free Monday.” You cut off his endless ramble and gestured toward his phone. He handed it to you without any hesitation and you typed in your number. “Text me the time, place and what I should wear.” 

“Oh actually, it’s a nude photoshoot.” Your eyes doubled in size, completely offended by that statement.

Jeno felt the sudden shift in the air and brought his hands up to block himself, “to be more clear, it’s a contemporary fine art nude photography studio. The pictures are pieces of art and to be seen as that only. I have no intentions or ulterior motive to sleep with you, see you naked or sell, leak your nudes for the profit of your body. But, I understand if you no longer want to do it because it sounds super strange now that I am explaining it.” 

Your shoulders relaxed and the fist that formed unraveled. You exhaled deeply, “I’ll do it. We can talk more about it on Monday and I get to leave on my own accord if I don’t feel comfortable. We work on my conditions.” Picking up Jeno’s chin, he was absolutely petrified at the forced eye contact and your incredible, powerful gaze. He was mesmerized by the fire in your eyes, and if he stared any longer, he could’ve lost himself in them. 

“Of course.” With that, you dropped his face and left without another look back. Jeno looked down at his phone and the new contact name, (Y/N). It had slipped his mind to even ask what your name was and he slapped his face in utter stupidity. “Do better, Lee Jeno.” It was a remainder to himself to, hopefully, be better the next time you two speak.

+

Monday, 3:03 PM. 

Jeno paced back and forth in the brightly, lit white room. He was trying to find any blinds or curtains to cover the tall windows of the high rise building. It should not be too much of a problem, the extra lighting was a positive. Jeno was only worried for your comfort of the openness. 

There was a soft knock before Jeno practically tripped to open the door. His breath hitched at the sight of your bare face. This time, you were the vulnerable one. Jeno only saw purity, yet impressed at how your tired eyes still managed to bid him a soft smile. He admired your uneven complexion, and the sparse moles that dotted your skin. 

“Okay, so you want to see me naked now or later?” Filled with jokes, your voice was light and airy this afternoon. There was a bit of a contrast from the first time you two met. Softer, enchanting, almost ghostly. 

Everything in the room was white. The mattress on the floor had a white comforter and white sheets. The backdrop. The walls. The hardwood floor. The only color was the blue sky that the tall windows let in.

“Here’s a robe. You can change in the bathroom.” Jeno scratched the back of his neck and his eyes wandered everywhere, but your’s. 

“Would you be okay with me just taking off my clothes in here?” You saw the light tint of pink cover his face, and spread to his ears. You examined more of the shy boy’s embarrassed face, finally getting a really good look at him. Jeno was very attractive, and you could only imagine how beautiful he must look if he fully faced you.

Jeno fiddled with his camera strap, “only if you are okay with that.” Clearing his throat, he stood next to the window to give you some privacy. “I’ll go over what I plan on doing. I’m going to take photos of your face details, parts of your body, full body, and portraits. You can lay down on the bed and I’ll direct you in poses. Have you modeled before?”

He was scanning the bustling city below his feet. Cars zoomed quickly and crowds of tiny people flooded the streets. He brought his camera up to his face, not being able to resist the urge to capture such a thrilling sight. 

“If Instagram counts, then yeah. Professional model gig would be a no. Nude photography is a definite no, unless we are talking about being filmed during sex.” Jeno chuckled, while also holding the camera steady and stealing a few moments to keep for himself.

For a strange reason, being naked for a non-sensual reason felt even more vulnerable. Laying on the soft fabric, you felt oddly exposed and slightly more reserved. You’ve had countless strangers see you naked. Men were sexually desiring to see a sexy picture. You were always lusted after, but this feeling of nakedness was special.

“Are you ready?” Jeno gulped, finally setting the camera down. 

You hummed cheerfully. Your heart was leaping out of your chest as the boy shifted slowly to face you. As he turned, you noticed he had his eyes sealed shut, which caused a small laugh to erupt. “Jeno, you have my permission to open your eyes and to look at me.”

Holy shit, he was trembling with an inexplicable fear. The camera was slipping from his sweaty hands. His mouth was as dry as the desert. Jeno’s pounding heart was loud in his ears. 

Jeno has seen his past girlfriends laying naked in bed, but this situation was too different. When he saw you laying there in absolutely nothing, he was overwhelmed, yet astounded at how graceful you appeared.

There was no exchange of words and no exchange of eye contact. He towered over your lying figure and shakily brought the camera to his eyes. He selfishly wanted to capture your elegance. Through the lens, he saw all of you: the curve in your eyelid, your curled eyelashes, the small mole next to your soft lips, the sharp color of your eyes, the way your hair frames your face.

This was the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen. You were comparable to the arts found in popular museums. Your body lines were enticing and an impressive shape. Your breasts pooled on your chest, the round nude nipple in the centers. Your details had to be sculpted by gods, who took their sweet time making you. You were a true masterpiece. 

Confused, Jeno felt a huge mixture of emotions. Was he aroused? Was he infatuated? Did he just fall in love with a complete stranger? He recognized the same thrilled feelings he felt taking landscape photos. With each click, he grew more excited with how beautiful the photos were turning out.

“Sit up and rest your chin on your left hand. Lean your weight on your right leg.” Jeno’s direction was clear and firm. There was no evidence of a smaller tone he usually spoke in. Sitting up, you placed your elbow on your upper thigh to steady your chin. Jeno had already gotten down to floor level to you. 

Without the camera that separated you two, it had to be the first time he faced you completely in such close proximity. There was so much to admire about Jeno. He remained concentrated on his craft, but it was actually very sexy to see his dedication. It was almost like he was a whole new person, like all the shyness drifted away. 

Jeno couldn’t take his eyes off of you. It wasn’t simply your beauty that amazed him. Your confidence made everything easy. There was something about your blank stares, when he asked for an emotion, you portrayed it perfectly.

“Can we talk while you shoot?” Your sudden voice startled the photographer. He lowered his camera and his gaze automatically wandered off behind you, which didn’t go unnoticed. He nodded after a short pause and the shutter noises continued.

“Why did you choose me as your model?” 

Jeno peeled away from the device, “because you’re you.” He didn’t even know what that statement meant. It wasn’t like he knew you before the first time he asked you to model for him.

The corners of your lips dipped down, drawing an evident frown. Click. Jeno loved that image especially. It was a simple way to get real, authentic facial expressions. He marveled at the photo, but registered the reason behind it. “I wanted to ask you the second I saw you. I just knew that I wanted you.” 

“But you don’t know me.” 

Jeno looked through the lens once again, welcoming a full view of your stunning attributes. He spoke in a low voice, “then, let me know you.” Click. 

It would be the biggest lie to say that you weren’t aroused by Jeno at the moment. He was cool, without trying to be. He really did shine when he had a camera to work with, like a star to a dark night. While he had a distinct demeanor off the bat, you enjoyed unraveling the rest of him. He was, also, the first man you met that didn’t seem sexually driven by a naked woman in his presence. 

You had to resist every urge to push the camera away and share the few seconds of his entire gaze before it wandered away. You wanted to rock his world, he was so innocent and beautiful. You wished to wreak havoc on him, have him show you how much he wanted you. 

+

You anticipated an awkward photoshoot, but Jeno made you feel safe and comfortable. He made sure to adjust the temperature when goosebumps rose on your arms and when your nipples became painfully hard. He never touched you or came too much into your personal space. He always asked for your permission. 

Nude modeling was a new experience for you, but you were surprised at how much you liked it. or how much you liked Jeno taking your photos. He sat next to you on the bed when you put on your articles of clothing and panned through several shots to satisfy your curiosity.

Leaning close, your head ducked to see the photos. A gasp escaped your lips when you saw just the first few. “Is that really me?” The pictures made you feel an abundance of emotions, you felt what they reflected. Sadness, melancholy, happiness, confidence. You didn’t know images had that much power to make you feel that, especially photos of you.

Jeno nodded, smiling so wide that his eyes turned to moon crescents. He was so in love with the results. He found respect for Taemin’s craft and he was right, he might’ve found a new forte to experiment with. “I can send you the photos digitally too, if you want them.”

“Maybe I’ll print them out, frame them, and gift it to every horrid man who has tried to flirt their way to my body since they want to see it so fucking bad.” 

Jeno peered over and saw the tiny glimpse of pain in your orbs, “why would you give horrible people what they want?”

“So they can finally shut up and leave me alone. Plus, this is art and if I tell them it’s actually me, maybe it’ll change their minds to start treating me like it.” 

He held his palm up and almost immediately, your fingers filled the spaces between his. “I’m going to need you to start treating yourself as fine art.”

“Keep taking more photos of me and I just might start thinking I’m Mona Lisa.” Your laughters blended nicely into each other. There was mutual mental acknowledgement of the happiness you were both feeling.

Jeno never let go of your hand, and there was a short moment of comforting silence where you two sat in each other’s existence. You were the one to break it, “are you doing anything after this?” 

He shook his head. “Well then, you’re mine for the rest of the night. We’re going to pretend we’ve been close friends since first year and eat take-out on my bed because that’s what I need at the moment.” 

+

“I know you respect my body and see this as an art form, but I’m genuinely surprised that you didn’t feel aroused at the slightest.”

Jeno didn’t even realize how much time had already passed being you. You two ate and chatted as if you’ve known each other forever, as if the friendship wasn’t established several hours ago. It felt safe and right, like you two belonged in each other’s existence and nowhere else mattered.

He felt warm inside from your hearty laughter and courage, like he was watching a painting come to life or a photo in movement. You were smitten over how endearing and complex he was. He was more than what meets the eye and that alone drew you towards him.

“Okay, I’ll admit,” Jeno paused to watch your reaction, “in the most respectable way, I was somewhat turned on. But! Before you trail blaze me for being just like every disgusting male in your life, I genuinely didn’t have any sexual thoughts during the photoshoot. That was all professional and it will continue to be like that.” 

Getting up from your bed, your mind was working at lightspeed to process his confession. Jeno was fast to pick up someone’s personality, what stood out and what was kept hidden. He knew quicker than anyone else that you were not someone to offend because you were a strong, straight forward woman.

His personality breakdown went like this: you knew what you like, you knew you were going to get what you want, you enjoyed flirty banter (with people of your choice), you weren’t afraid to be blunt, or kick someone’s ass. You carried yourself with confidence that graced your every step, which makes anyone attracted to you instantly. Bold, confident, sexy had to be what came to mind whenever he thought about you. 

Nonetheless, he really liked you as a person. He could pat himself on the back all day long for just approaching you, but he knew the real reason as to how this all happened. It was you saying yes to a stranger’s odd photoshoot. You made him the luckiest man in the world. 

“Continue? Are you looking for excuses to keep seeing me?” You smirked and Jeno’s voice grew small. 

“I--- uh, well,” there goes the nervous stammering, “I know the conditions were a one time thing, so I understand if you don’t want to do it again.” As the night had progressed, Jeno gradually began to hold eye contact and actually looked at you directly without the help of seeing you through a lens. This was the first time he broke it. 

“Hey now, I’m messing with you, Jeno.” He had been sitting on your floor, at the end of your bed. You crawled on your elbows to reach him, and to hold his chin to face you again. Deja vu. “I’d love to get naked for you again, and again, and.. as many times as you want me to.” 

He stared at you with his mouth hung open in disbelief. His eyes scanned your beautiful face to see your lips pull back into a mischievous smile. Gulping, he swallowed every ounce of courage he had left. “You don’t have to say it like that.” He tried to remove your grip, but it latched onto his hand. 

“You’re finally looking me in the eye, sweet thing. I don’t think you realize how much I had been wanting that from you.” You caressed his cheek, rubbing small circles on his texture. 

“What else do you want from me?” His implication sounded suggestive, even if his curiosity was innocent. 

Your hot breath brushed against Jeno’s lips. “I can show you.”

Jeno, the one and only college guy who has seen your naked body in a non-sexual context. Jeno, the shy, sweet boy who appreciated and recognized you as a form of art. Jeno, the talented and skillful photographer, who consistently made sure you felt comfortable. Jeno, the only person in the world who you’d model nude for. Jeno, the dazzling character behind the camera who you wanted more than anyone else you’ve ever met. Lee Jeno.

He seemed like he was inching closer, already tilting his head to fit your’s. You smiled to yourself, seeing that your words were received well. Diving in, your lips swam together fervently. 

The poor boy found himself lost in your enchanting, alluring gaze. He let the trance consume him, selfishly kissing the art he admired so dearly. A small part of him felt the guilt and confusion that began to rise. He wasn’t sure why he suddenly wished to feel your lips on his neck, or run his hands across your hot skin. He swore these thoughts were not present earlier. 

A small pop! and Jeno held your shoulder to pull away. “I’m sorry, did I do something?” You asked, honestly concerned that you were taking more than you deserved. The least you desired was to hurt Jeno, who had been nothing but nice and sweet.

“(Y/N),” you could listen to your name roll off his tongue all day, “I feel somewhat guilty. I don’t want things to be misunderstood.”

“Which would be?”

“I don’t want you to think I coerced you into being my model just because I had intentions to sleep with you.” Jeno was already gathering his things, but you hopped off your bed and placed a hand on his chest. “Because that’s what it’s starting to look like at the moment.”

“Was that something you did though? Did you have those intentions?” Your stare bore right through him. The warmth of your hand relaxed his racing heart.

“Never, (Y/N), I would never do that to someone.” Your hand traveled down to grab his belongings and tossed it back onto the ground. 

He silently watched as you took off your pants, and stood in front of him in your underwear. “Then, we’re fine. I know your intentions have always been pure. But truthfully, Jeno, seeing you focused while you worked sparked something in me. You don’t understand how aroused I got and how badly I wanted you to fuck me on that bed.” His hand trailed up your exposed thighs, finally touching your softness. “You’re the one guy I wanted first, and it’s been a long time since I’ve felt that.” 

“I-- I don’t know what to say.” His cheeks revealed how embarrassed he was, but his dark, lustful eyes were telling a different story.

A smirk fell upon your face, “then don’t say anything.” 

Jeno devoured you, inhaling the light hint of vanilla that still lingered. He hoisted you onto your mattress and kissed you like his life depended on it. His antsy hands roamed your free range, exploring, holding, gripping the parts he marveled over. Small moans from the back of your throat encouraged him to continue.

No one has ever kissed you with the amount of passion Jeno did. It was gentle, with enough vigor to cause your panties to dampen. It wasn’t sloppy, where previous guys had a problem of missing your mouth entirely and slobbered your chin. 

His lips worshiped you, highlighting your good sides. Flashes of the photoshoot popped into Jeno’s head as he left purple marks on the places he loved capturing the most. He pushed up your shirt, exposing your chest to him again. His tongue circled around your hard nipple as he made sure to give the same amount of attention to each one. 

Jeno knew he was too shy to hold your intense stare, but getting to know you during and after the photoshoot, he could see the softness in your gaze. He was, now, able to see all of you. The sight of you through the camera was addicting enough, so finally taking you all in was more than satisfying. 

Your hands ran through his hair as he kissed down your torso. His thumbs hooked the waistband of your underwear, and peeled it off your body. You gasped as the cold air from your apartment grazed against your exposed figure.

Jeno paused to admire your glistening pussy, “would it be okay if you let me make love to you?”

Your heart burned, not out of embarrassment, but at how he still managed to ask you for your permission in the sweetest way. You rested your weight on your elbows, “no one has done that before, would it actually make me want to fall in love with you?”

“It wouldn’t be too bad. I have a lot of love to give and you look like a person who deserves all of it anyways.” Jeno’s finger ran over your wet slit and rubbed your clit slowly.

Your moans filled the room as the electric jolted throughout your veins. The wetness grew, seeping out of you like a waterfall. Jeno dropped down to his knees, and lifted your legs on his broad shoulders.

“Are you usually this wet, baby?”

Chuckling, you smiled at his bold choice in using pet names, “Just for you.”

He hummed, chiming at how he liked your answer. Spreading you open, his tongue met with your swollen bud that begged for his licks.

His tongue darted side to side, up and down and in result, your back arched in pleasure and a darkness clouded your mind. His name and mindless profanities streamlined their way out of you as Jeno ate you out in such a precisely delicious way.

Grabbing a fist full of hair, you pulled him closer, even if there was no more space to fill. Looking down, you two exchanged glances before he thrusted a finger into you. Your hips bucked harder as he eased in another one.

Jeno curled his fingers in search of your sweet spot and found it when a deep moan escaped your throat. His fingertips rubbed and pressed into your plush flesh, causing you to practically scream and squirm in his mouth. 

He suckled your clit and fingered you simultaneously and quickly. The pleasure was overflowing and you released his hair to grip your sheets below you. Your legs shook and trembled as he had no caution to stop.

“Please, I’m going to--” you could barely talk due to your face contouring to the splurge of pleasure every single time Jeno rubbed your spot. “--to explode.” 

He had to take back what he thought earlier in the day. This was the most beautiful sight he’s ever laid eyes on. The whole scene played like from one of his favorite films. It felt like he was giving his photos life. Your body twisted and turned, accentuating the curves of your lines. 

Jeno had become painfully hard against the fabric of his jeans, but seeing you fall apart because of his minimal movements exhilarated him. “P-Please, don’t stop.” A breathy moan followed suit and your thighs tried to press themselves together. Jeno didn’t allow it, his free hand hooked underneath your left thigh to pull one side away from his cheeks.

Your high gradually grew so tall that it all eventually came cascading down. Your legs shook violently and sat up from the euphoria that took over you. Jeno prolonged your buzz and you screamed loudly, having to bite down on your fingers to stop yourself from angering your neighbors.

Jeno drank you up, letting your wetness cover his chin and drip down his knuckles. He pulled away, at last, and you took deep breaths to control your heavy breathing. It was like Jeno knocked the wind completely out of you. 

He stood up and you saw the outline of his hard bulge straining itself through his jeans. The next scene was quite animalistic. You, still embodying your high, sat on your knees and unzipped his pants with your needy hands.

“Now, it’s your turn to get nude for me.” You whispered, tauntingly. Jeno groaned when you reached down and gently pulled him out. He stepped out of his clothing, all of it. His shirt was lost in the corner and his bottoms were scattered over your floor. Mirroring his actions, you took off your last piece of cloth.

Jeno was built. Though his biceps did not go unnoticed during the photoshoot, you were surprised at the lines of muscle that sketched his body. It made your mouth water, seeing his extremely hard dick stand against his toned abs. His red tip fell just below his navel. Jeno only kept getting better as the night continued on.

Pulling him closer, his hand found their way to the back of your head as you aligned your mouth to the wetness that spilled from his tip. “I want to make you feel good.” Jeno’s hoarse voice made your knees weak.

Peering up, you batted your eyelashes at him fondly. “Just a little taste?” You begged, having to hold his shaft with both of your hands because of his thickness. Your tongue was already stuck out, your hot breath causing the tiniest bit of sensation for him.

He nodded and his eyes were trained on you. He didn’t want to miss any second of your kitty licks. You flattened your tongue against his warmth, dragging it up to the top. The saltiness hit your palette as you swirled around his redness. “Oh--” Jeno threw his head back and bit his lip, “--lay on the bed now.” 

You smiled sweetly and gave his member a quick kiss before reaching for a condom in your drawer. Jeno climbed onto your bed and situated the rubber comfortably. You laid on your back and he was fast to pull your legs around his waist. 

He lined himself at your entrance and eased his tip in slowly. Squirming, you craved him to fill you up to the brim. He leaned down to kiss you, letting your tongue lap with his. It’s your hands with the mind of their own when they flew automatically to hold his face whenever you wanted to deepen the kiss. Then, Jeno stretched himself all the way in and he caught your gasp with his lips. He groaned, feeling the mess he created merely minutes ago. 

His hips moved so easily with your wetness, but he went slow. Dragging out each pull and then, pushing himself back in roughly. “Jeno!” Your body jolted up the bed each time. His body fell over yours to hold you intimately, letting you bury your face into his neck. Your lips latched themselves onto his sensitive skin, painting a purple sunset. 

Jeno’s arms snaked underneath your thighs as he pressed them to your chest, folding you almost into a ball. Your mouth hung open as he fucked you harder, rougher, deeper yet keeping the tempo rhythmically slow. At this point, you could feel his hits in your gut. Your weak hands gripped loosely around his strong wrists that held your legs down. “You’re pussy is so tight and holy shit---, you keep getting more beautiful.”

A familiar burning sensation set in your chest as you saw how concentrated his face had become. You were so fucked out that you could barely speak, “you—” his hips mercilessly slammed into you powerfully, enacting a low moan every time he reached your sweet spot. “—keep surprising me.” His actions came to a halt and he stared deeply into your soul. 

You whined, wiggling your hips for any friction. He held them down into the mattress, knowing his grip was strong enough to leave a mark. “I told you, I was going to make love to you tonight.”

“I’ve already fallen for you.” You said breathlessly, tracing the side of his face and pecking his lips softly. 

“You don’t understand what you’re doing to me by saying those things.” He whispered and pushed his entire shaft to fill you to your brim. 

You yelped his name and gripped his shoulders, but he wasn’t done yet. “Show me how badly you wanted me the first time you saw me.” Jeno blinked at you in slight shock. 

As he continued to hold the deep gaze, he kept pushing his dick further and further into you. He was balls deep, almost impossible to keep going. He fucked you without the need to pull out, just burying his cock deeper into your wet pussy. You exclaimed, moaned, cussed at every push. Holding the stare was more than enough to lose yourself all over him again. 

Jeno was drunk with the image of your fucked out expression and every time the mixture of pleasure and pressure caused your eyebrows to crease and mouth to open release sensual sound. He had been trying his best not to come undone, to fixate another climax for you.

The feeling of you wrapping tighter and tighter around him drove him insane. “Give it to me, please.” Your muffled plead called for his release, but he could feel that you were close to your second.

Jeno sat up on his knees and pulled you into his arms where your thighs fell over his. You groaned at the empty feeling, though it was quickly replaced with a gratifying moan when he inserted himself again. Your arms dangled around his neck, foreheads touching intimately. 

The fucking eye contact again, how could you get enough of it? You giggled, amused at how different Jeno was when he eventually opened up. He wrapped his strong arms around your back and thrusted his hips up into you. The way this man made you squirm, scream, and shake were nothing you’ve experienced before. 

He smirked, placing a gentle kiss on your cheek when he went rampage on your pussy. “Not laughing now, are you?”

You whined in pleasure, brushing your fallen strands of hair out of his face. “Shut up before I make you.” 

“Then I’d rather keep going.” Kissing up his jawline, you lead your way to his pout. His kisses intoxicated you with his passion and madness, like the most intense part of a symphony, or when the bass drops after a long build up in a song. 

Jeno sped up, ramming up into your slick pussy over and over again. He even brought your hips down to match him, guiding you down as he went up. The headboard was knocked against the wall, your windows steamed up, cries of pleasure from the both of you created the ambiance, the smell of sex filled your lungs. Jeno reached between your bodies to furiously rub your clit to where it felt almost raw. It all sent you into the clouds, the familiar queasiness settled in your lower half.

Your eyes rolled back and your back arched, having to pull away from the desirous kiss with Jeno. “I’m cumming!” You announced before the tension unraveled, causing you to see absolute white. The second wave was much more uncontrollable, Jeno felt you squeezing radically around his dick as he tried to fuck you faster to prolong the feeling.

Your legs shook around his and your upper body went limp with pleasure. You reached the peak of the mountain and it came crumbling down underneath your toes. It was catastrophically enthralling, to the point where you physically felt something leave your body.

“Oh shit..” Jeno stopped his motions at the sight of you squirting over his lap. He pampered your torso with fluttering kisses, hoping to calm your spastic body. “...baby, are you okay?” He asked with a bit of concern of how lack of life you seemed. 

This man just gave you the best climax in your whole life and he asked if you were okay? Regaining your senses, you sighed a small yes to reassure him that he didn’t actually murder you. Hopping off, you pulled the condom that restricted him.

He hissed when you cupped his balls in your palm. “Cum, my sweet thing.” You purred and Jeno’s hand pumped his member aggressively. You leaned in to help, sucking the tip and flicking your tongue over his slit. 

His other hand gripped your neck, causing you to drip on your sheets. Jeno was panting and with every tug, it became louder. He seemed so desperate to release that it made you smile to be the reason behind it. “Can you lay down,” A grunt followed his question, “please.” He huffed.

“Because you asked nicely.” Smirking, your back hit the sheets and you opened your legs to give Jeno a view. He situated himself above your stomach, as he fucked his tight grip.

“I’m cumming---” He couldn’t look any more amazing. With a final moan, the white streaks streamed out in short sequences. It landed across your abdomen, over your nipple, and pooled around your belly button. 

Bringing himself back to reality, Jeno stepped back to marvel you, his masterpiece. The white streaks coated your purple skin and your chest rose fast to catch your reality. Gazing upon your naked body, he was utterly infatuated with all of you. He was so in love with the sight of you that not a single photo could capture the beauty that you were. 

Jeno pondered the thought of how merely a day changed a small part of him. You were life changing, addicting, an incomparable character that he felt like he’s known forever, and now, couldn’t live without. It was the taste of your juices on his lips, your sweet melodic music that was your voice, your daring smile that enticed him to never peel away from you. It was simply you. 

He leaned down to rub his knuckles against your cheek, planting a lovingly peck on your forehead. “I’ll go start the water for you.” 

+

Jeno anticipated the reaction of his mentor. He found himself at the same scene he was when he was first given the task. Taemin sat across from him, hunched forward to analyze his new set of photos on his laptop. Raw, unedited photos of you, your body, your details. 

The hum of the air conditioning droned on, driving him mad. Jeno needed one reaction, but Taemin had been silent and expressionless for the past ten minutes. Whenever he did move, it was to click through to the next picture. 

Suddenly, he shut it closed and stood right up. Jeno, panicked, did the same. Taemin stuck his hand out and Jeno hesitantly grabbed it, incredibly unsettled and unable to read the older man.

Taemin received it firmly, giving Jeno a good handshake. “Welcome abroad, Lee Jeno. I expect even more great things from you.” 

Jeno registered his delightful mood switch and he was fast to follow up, “my photos, --- you --- like them?” 

Taemin nodded generously, patting Jeno on his shoulder. Taemin reached up to tap his own eyelids. “What you can see, is very special, kid. You’re an artist and I’m here to recognize that for you. It seems to me, you can do more than take pictures of sidewalks.” 

Jeno smiled happily, his eyes disappearing from joy. He couldn’t wait to tell you about it. 

The rest of the week, leading up to Jeno’s appointment, had felt nothing short of blissful moments together. You and Jeno spent almost every waking minute together without the cost of your friends’ time. He walked you to your classes, some even being across the campus from his own. You accompanied him for meals, even sitting in his lectures to just be with him.

There were no words that established what you two had become to each other. Jeno wasn’t looking for that anyways, in fact, he somewhat liked the ambiguity. If only he could tell you how making love to you made him begin to actually fall for you.

You were never one to hold a serious relationship, but you found a small want for that festering in Jeno. It was hard to admit to yourself, but Jeno saw you for all that you were. He truly saw you, whether it had been through a lens or through his own eyes. He captured your rawness and you were able to find vulnerability around him. 

He ran to you, where you sat in the lobby waiting for him to finish his meeting. Peering up from your phone, you noticed the beaming smile on the boy’s face. You couldn’t hold back your own grin, seeing him apparent with so much joy. “I’m guessing good things?”

“I got it, (Y/N)!” He jumped into your arms and you laughed at the sudden affection. “He loved my photos.” 

“I didn’t doubt it for one second. You’re an artist, Jeno. You create masterpieces that make even someone like me, feel like art.” 

Jeno hugged you closer to his chest, giving you a tiny squeeze. Pulling away to face you, his eyes examined your outstanding grace. You knew what he was already going to say, but simply wanted to hear him say it. “That’s because you are art.”

#lee jeno #jeno scenarios #nct smut #jeno smut #nct dream scenarios #nct jeno #jeno #nct dream smut #nct 127 scenarios #wayv #wayv scenarios #nct dream reactions #nct 127 smut #nct #nct dream imagines #lee jeno scenarios #kpop #kpop smut #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #cznnet #nct u scenarios #nct u #nct 127 reactions #nct reactions #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct au #nct dream scenario #nct dream

[cassanovancats]

felicitate. four.

three < current > five

March 2017

White Day is only a few days away when you begin to notice Rika’s form is absent from your training sessions lately. There shouldn’t be any reason for this, at least not one you’re aware of. Your class celebrated Yuta’s birthday just two days ago, and both the curse and cursed seemed fine, great even. You decide it’s best to bring this up casually - Yuta was still so skittish and Rika would be able to hear whatever you said anyways. So while you lead Yuta through a yoga session, you ask, “How’s Rika?”

He flusters and falls from his side-plank variation pose. The band he was using as an aid tangles around his calf. You debate and decide to leave him. If you touched him now, he might spontaneously combust. That thought makes you giggle a little. You move to change to a position that meant you weren’t looking at him. Hopefully, that’s less pressure.

Yuta speaks up when you’re fully downward dog, leading you to believe your plan worked. “She’s fine, yeah, fine. Just uh - tired?” You nod but inwardly roll your eyes. You shift your hips in to move to upward facing dog and make eye contact again.

“Just checking. I miss her hanging out, you know?” It’s obvious Yuta just lied, curses don’t get tired, but it’s better to not call him out this time. You just have to hope it wasn’t anything you did. “I know you fell but at this point you’re just slacking. Get back on your mat,” you say, changing the topic to something safe.

You’re back in downward facing dog when the door slides open. A familiar voice drawls, “Why are you still working out, dummy? Forgot our plans?” You scramble to your feet.

“Gumi!” You rush to hug him despite his obvious distaste. “What time is it? Do I still have time to shower or will we be late?”

Your little brother snorts and pushes you away, “Please do, you smell. You have,” he checks his watch, “fifteen minutes.”

“Gumi! That’s not enough time!” You yell, already sprinting towards the showers at the back of the gym. Yuta pouts at how quickly you seemed to forget his presence. That face doesn’t escape Megumi.

“So, you like my idiot sister?”

“W-what! No, no no no, it’s not like that! She just helps t-train me and -!” Yuta knows he’s rambling but he can’t seem to stop talking.

“Whatever,” Megumi has better things to worry about than repressed hormones. He's known that Yuta had a crush on you since the first time he came to campus to train with you after Yuta arrived. Your classmate couldn’t stop staring and seemed disheartened by the fact that you called Megumi by a shortened version of his given name. He had pouted until Satoru showed up and made a spectacle of ‘Team Gojo’ being all together again. Like you three didn’t, at minimum, have a weekly dinner together.

“If you ever want to acknowledge them, you’ll have to get approved by Satoru.” Yuta feels like he also needs the approval of this boy, but he leaves that unsaid. Just nods dumbly. Probably a good thing he didn’t respond, because you barrel through the doors you disappeared from.

When you rush past him, Yuta gets a strong whiff of the floral scent he’s come to associate with you. Megumi laughs under his breath at the blissed out look. Your hair drips water onto your tee shirt and it’s clear you rushed. “Really, really sorry to dip, Yuta. Run through those stretches we did last week to cool down!” Your fingers distractedly pull your wet hair into a braid as you instruct him. “Oh! Tell Maki I won’t be at afternoon training, Satoru already knows and gave permission. Megumi, grab my duffel?” Already carrying it, he rolls his eyes. “I should be back tomorrow morning, but don’t count on it.”

“Wait, but why -?”

“Gotta dash. Bye, Yuta!” You run ahead of your brother, headed to your room to grab Tsumiki’s gifts. Megumi gives a nod and follows after you. Alone and without anyone around to judge, Yuta groans and buries his face into his yoga mat. God, why can’t he just be normal.

When he looks back up, Rika has taken your spot on your mat. You left in such a hurry, you didn’t even clean up. He’ll have to drop it off in your room. “Ya’ know, it’s not that I’m mad about you liking her,” she begins. “It’s just…. I know we can’t be together so I do want you to be happy. I just feel jealous. Especially since you got her that super fancy chocolate for White Day,” Rika finishes with a pout.

Yuta doesn’t really know how to reassure her. So he does what he promised when he was ten, and is just honest. “I’m here to learn how to let you go, Rika. Neither of us know how to do that yet. I can’t be in any kind of relationship until I learn. It wouldn’t be fair to either of you.”

Rika hums and picks at the corner of your mat. “Well. I think it’s more than just us two you’re worried about.”

“What?”

“Inumaki seems pretty interested in the both of you too. You may not see it, but all three of you are pretty smitten. It’s actually kind of gross.”

“That’s - he - no!” Rika just laughs and dissolves her form. Yuta, still flustered, continues to mutter as he collects the things you left and wipes down any used equipment. When he finally leaves, it’s just his luck he runs (literally) into Inumaki who looks unfairly handsome in a fitted tee and sweatpants. Even his markings are uncovered, which makes Yuta groan, tuck tail, and run away. Yuta can hear Rika laughing in his mind.

“Tuna mayo?” Inumaki tilts his head to the side but shrugs off the odd behavior.

-

July 2017

JJH Thots the good gojo: guysss help which tie do i get :( fushiguro: isn’t satoru with you the good gojo: yea but u know he’s shit at gifts maki: Both of those are ugly, (y/n). Do you hate the man? osamu: the cheetah print trophy husband: I like that one too! the good gojo: this is why you two are my favorites

From a few cities over, Yuta flushes at your words. Inumaki notices and kicks his foot. He’s laughing when he says, “Nori,” but Yuta can spot a faint pink over the hem of his collar too.

You turn around in the middle of the street when you hear a loud, “(y/n)-chan!” Satoru is speed-walking towards you, waving an arm that is covered in different shopping bags. His long legs have him beside you in a split second, even without the use of cursed energy. “Are you done yet? Nanami won’t even thank you properly you know. Why don’t you just get gifts for your precious Nii-chan?” He pouts and takes the two bags you’re carrying.

“One, it’s not your birthday. Two, you could buy anything you want already. Three, who's to say I didn’t already get you one?” You pull a box of macaroons out from one of the bags he took. Satoru moves to snatch it immediately but you put it behind your back. Of course, if he wanted, he’d just grab it, but your Nii-chan would never deny playing a game with you. “You can’t get it until we’re back on campus! I’m already tired and this is my bribe to go home early.”

“But (y/n)-chan,” he whines.

“Nu-uh. I promised a movie night with Toge and Yuta and I don’t wanna be late.” You realize too late you revealed too much, because your brother suddenly looks like a very successful cat.

“Why didn’t you just say so? I would never make my little sister late for her first date.”

You blush furiously, “Who says it’s my first?”

“It better be your first.”

“It’s not even a date,” you roll your eyes. “Neither like me like that, and if it was a date, wouldn’t one be a third-wheel?”

“Tricycles are pretty fun.” Your brother says casually. You roll your eyes again and add a gag for good measure. “Seriously, (y/n). You should know you have my full support to love anyone and everyone you want. Not that you need it, though. You’re a Gojo. We do as we please anyways.”

You tear up at his sincerity and throw your arms around your brother, or at least the best you can with his bags in the way. The two of you are frequently physically and verbally affectionate but not often in such a serious manner. You know there’s a deep love between you; for a long time, the two of you only had each other. Eventually, your family expanded to include Megumi and Tsumiki, but neither ever took the Gojo name. You and Satoru had a special bond. “Thank you,” you stutter around tears. You hope he understands it’s not just a thank you for the reassurance but a thank you for giving you such a life.

“Come on, no crying. You can’t go on your date with puffy eyes, you’ll scare both of them away.” He pats your head softly and just laughs when you punch him in the gut.

#felicitate #cass.writes #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #inumaki x reader #yuta okkotsu x reader #inumaki x reader x yuta #female!reader #jjk spoilers #jjk volume 0 spoilers #in ao3 this is two chapters but theyre real short so #combined with my author powers

[hanii-rose]

Hi there! I would first like to say I’m a huge fan of both your art and your writing~ your posts make my brain release the happy chemicals ♡

If it’s ok I was wondering if I could request Garou with a shy s/o who works up the courage to surprise him by wearing lingerie?? (〃ω〃) only if you want to tho of course

tysm, ily!

✯Lingerie Fever✯

Garou × Fem!Reader

You stood in front of the pristine glass window of the only adult shop in your district, wishfully eyeing the beautifully assorted contents on the other side of it. The pretty little store mannequins stood proudly, in poses you could never pull off, wearing provocative attire, some adorning cuter variations while others had more sexy designs.

This whole situation was strange. People passed by behind you giving you strange looks as you wiggled anxiously near the store window.

You were too occupied to notice their stares, too invested in your own thoughts to care about your surroundings.

Your lover, Garou was out at work, earning a living for the two of you which left you home alone. With nothing to do but watch mindless television, you had opted to go for a little outing.

•••

You had gained an interest in intimate apparel on a lazy Monday, after your boyfriend had left for work and you stumbled upon a romantic advice blog while leisurely surfing the web on your laptop.

'How to Make Your Boyfriend the Happiest in the World!'

Having nothing interesting to do, you clicked on the link, intrigued by the title. The first few tips it gave were fairly ordinary.

'You can only touch a man's heart through his stomach!' or 'Men love complements on their hair and outfit'. Nothing too surprising came up, until you had reached the absolute end of the blog. Suddenly, you found yourself flustered at the blush inducing words on your screen.

'A man cannot resist a woman in erotic attire...'

That last little tip had sent you into a shameless daydream as you thought about it more and more. You? Dress up in sexy clothes for Garou? Was the room getting hotter or were you just overheating?

But the more you pondered on the shameless idea, the more it started to occur to you that the only time you ever dressed up for him was on Valentine's Day and even then it was just a cute dress or a pretty frock.

But nothing sexy...

•••

You squinted and stuck your tongue out, trying to read the price tags from outside of the store but had no luck. The numbers were way too small.

A clerk, while dusting inside the shop noticed your strange behaviour and ran over to open up the door. She watched you peculiarly for a few seconds before speaking.

"Uh ma'am, if you're looking for a set you should come inside. We have a lot to choose from!"

You jumped in surprise and frantically waved your hands in front of you, blabbing out no's.

"Ack- I uh, no no. It's ok! I was just looking!"

The shop lady smiled and gestured for you to head inside with her. Her brown bob bounced as she jovially explained.

"If you were looking, you were obviously interested. Come in and I'll show you some that'll really suit you!"

You gulped and hesitantly nodded, following the saleswoman into the store. Walking through the doors, your eyes landed on the exquisite bras and panties. You gasped quietly, unable to comprehend the sheer erotic beauty of all of them.

"A-a-are these...real?"

The woman chuckled at you, her hand coming up to stifle the noise.

"What a silly question! Of course they're real."

You scratched your neck, embarrassed at your naivety and lack of knowledge about erotic clothing.

"What's your name?"

You blinked a few times and shyly answered.

"O-oh, I'm Y/N."

"Well Y/N, how about you take a look around. I'll be right here behind the counter waiting for you when you're finished."

You shyly nodded, flashing her a small smile.

You took a deep breath, making up your mind.

'Ok Y/N! No more shyness! Just choose one you like! Garou will love it too...right?'

You shook your head and continued to observe the clothes.

A tall skinny mannequin with her hand on her hip, wore a black, lacy set, crotchless and sexy. A bit too sexy for you...

The one next to it, a shorter bustier dummy adorned a pink satin nightie, white lace around the edges but showed off too much cleavage at first glance. Whoa, that's a lot of exposure!

Another one that caught your eye stood in the middle of the room, a spotlight highlighting it's intricate features, obviously the most beautiful one in the store.

An adorable white baby doll two piece, satin bows and tulle flowers lined the tips, strings to tighten and loosen twisted up the front. Two innocent little ruffle crew socks came with the stunning set, perfecting it.

Your eyes sparkled in awe, your brain screamed 'this is the one!'

Your mouth agape, you eyed the pretty mannequin, looking for a price.

"This is your first time buying, isn't it?"

You broke out of your trance, turning to look at the saleswoman with a sheepish grin.

"Y-yes. I've never really had the um... interest in these sorts of things..."

"Ah, I see. Well, did you find the one you want?"

You nodded your head, avoiding eye contact with her.

You hesitantly pointed to the one you liked and spoke.

"I r-really liked that one. Is there one in m-my s-size?"

You could barely speak without stuttering, much too shy.

"Of course. You have good taste for a first-timer. It's pricey but worth it."

You took a deep breath and shakily asked for the price.

"That one's our latest model, inported all the way from (foreign country). It costs more than most of the other ones here."

You took in the information, still curious to see if you could afford it.

"It's 12000 yen. But I assure you, the price isn't the only thing that's high quality."

You slumped your shoulders, already defeated at hearing the cost of the pair.

"I-its so much for a bra and underwear..."

You whined quietly to yourself, dejected. Who would carry around so much money. You'd have to hit up an ATM somewhere, but the nearest one was four blocks away.

The day wasn't getting any brighter either and you'd have to be home before Garou to avoid any awkward questions about your whereabouts.

You sighed, tucking a stray hair behind your ear.

"C-can I come back for this one next week?"

You bashfully played with your fingers while asking.

"Well, it's an exquisite piece, I'm not sure if I can hold it off for you for more than a day or two..."

She apologized but you assured her it was not an issue. Looks like you'd have to buy it earlier and hide it in your shared closet, at least until the time was right.

>>

You had returned home a while back, changed into one of Garou's white t-shirts and began preparing for dinner. Garou had come home not long after you, completely oblivious to your little outing. You had decided against telling him, it would only lead to unwanted questions.

While stirring the curry pot, your thoughts went back to that stunning piece that awaited you in that lingerie store. It was so pretty, you wanted it now. Not just for Garou but for yourself as well.

As of now, Garou rested peacefully in your bedroom, so very tired from working so hard. He's the sweetest guy you'd ever met, well after you had gotten to know him.

To others he might look like a brute, scary and standoffish, but to you...

He was perfect. Flawed, but perfect.

Putting the lid back on and turning off the stove, you quietly made your way to where Garou slept, tip-toeing over and standing next to where he snored.

He looked so relaxed, it almost made you want to curl up next to him, but then nobody would eat that amazing beef curry you had prepared. You'd have to wake him up, you almost felt bad.

Nudging his shoulder with your hand, you tried pushing him to stir him out of sleep but he stayed snoring, turning around and hiding his face with his arm.

You internally groaned. This time you tried quietly whispering him awake.

"G-Garou... Garou, wake up."

He whined ruggedly, and shifted again turning back to you, still asleep.

"Don't you want dinner?"

He sleepily shook his head, too tired to verbally respond.

You rubbed your face with your palms aggressively. He's just so cute!

You looked at him with adoration, a gentle smile gracing your lips. He's not waking up anytime soon, might as well give him a little kiss.

Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you lowered your head downwards and placed a sweet peck on his cheek, giggling to yourself as you rushed to the kitchen to set the table and let your boyfriend sleep for a few more minutes.

You took out the silver forks and spoons, washing them and readying them to place on the dinner table next to the served plates of curry and rice.

"All this time we've been together and all ya' give me is a kiss on the cheek?"

Came a familiar voice, deeper than normal.

"O-oh, Garou! You surprised me..."

You whispered shyly, clutching the silverware closer to your chest.

"D-dinner, I mean... I made curry for dinner."

"Sit, I'll get you a glass of water..."

Garou seated himself down onto his usual chair and waited for you to completely get the table ready.

"That colour. It looks good on ya'..."

After shakily pouring water into Garou's jug and your cup, you finally took a seat, straightening yourself out.

"Thank you, Garou..."

You thanked, happy that he thought you were appealing.

"How was work?"

Garou shrugged, same old, same old.

"And you? What'd you do?"

You played with your food, pushing the curry around with your spoon, cutely shrugging, not speaking one bit.

"Yer' actin' awfully weird. Somethin' wrong?"

You shook your head and gulped nervously, shifting your line of sight from his face to your plate. Clearing your throat, you took a large spoonful and chewed, trying to avoid answering his question.

"Yer' so cute..."

Garou's voice retained its deep pitch, possibly becoming even lower than before.

"Ya' know, I just woke up so I ain't fallin' asleep anytime soon..."

You swallowed the mouthful and tilted your head, waiting for him to finish his sentence.

Garou raised a brow, smirking.

"We could..."

...

After the realization of what he actually meant hit you, you snorted while taking a sip from your cup, falling into a coughing fit in your seat. As soon as the coughing stopped, you spoke, surprised at his suggestion.

"W-what? I-ok, uh..."

"We don't need'ta if ya' dont wanna..."

You calmly shook your head and reached over the table, placing your petite hand over his.

"N-no, I mean we can... that sounds, that sounds good..."

You bashfully confirmed, smiling, avoiding his gaze.

"Well then, start chewin' faster cus' once I'm done, there won't be any time to finish yer' food..."

Your flushed, your body becoming hot as you fidgeted in your seat.

>>

You took a deep breath of air before pushing open the glass doors, entering the building.

That morning, after Garou had gone off to work, you picked up your keys and your purse, running to the bank to withdraw just enough money for the lingerie piece you liked.

Today, you were going to buy it!

You had been prepping yourself up for it since last night, thinking about how much better the night would've been if you had worn something like that. Not that it wasn't amazing without it, it was. With Garou, it always was, but you wanted to contribute to his pleasure too!

You spotted the woman from before and slowly walked up to her, tapping her on the shoulder.

She looked up from her leaning position over the cash counter, took out her earbuds and cast you a knowing look.

"So, you're here for the set I presume?"

Nodding, you fidgeted, shyly smiling in excitement.

"Thought so..."

The woman led you to the changing rooms and you followed.

"So your partner, what're they like?"

"W-well, he's very strong and cool..."

You shyly twirled your hair, while walking, going deeper into the store.

"And...he's really handsome and c-cute."

"He's also smart... sometimes..."

The saleswoman chuckled and halted in front of the changing room door.

"Sounds like a catch."

You chuckled softly. Yes, yes he is.

"I'll bring some sizes and colors over, tell me which one fits best and we'll pack it up, kay'?"

"Thank you. You're so kind..."

"Don't mention it."

The woman promptly left to go fetch you every variation of the babydoll set, and you excitedly tried on each one.

After going through what seemed like thirty different colours of the same piece, you finally found one that suit you just right, and it was in a colour Garou actually appreciated you in.

You absolutely loved it!

You stood near the register, happily paying for the lingerie. The woman proceeded to securely pack it for you, chuckling at your eagerness.

"Stay confident in this piece, it really suits you!"

She pumped you up, giving you a boost of confidence that you really needed. This feeling was so amazing, like nothing could ruin your day!

It was so empowering!

Is this how men feel?

Vigorously bowing, you thanked her for her service and enthusiastically pushed open the shop doors, exiting the establishment.

>>

A couple of days had passed since you had purchased the fine piece of clothing, hiding it meticulously at the very back of your closet, where Garou could never find it.

You contemplated whether tonight was an appropriate time to wear it. It was a glorious Sunday and Garou had come home an hour ago from mingling among his colleagues. The boys had held some get-together today and he was invited, acting as if it was something dreadful but secretly, you knew he was excited to have friends.

Garou laid under you on the bed, sprawled out, taking up most of it. You laid on top of his chest facing him, one of his arms wrapped around your waist, holding you flush against him.

"Garou, did you have fun with your friends today?"

He gave a single affirmative nod.

"What did you guys do?"

He shrugged, explaining bluntly.

"Sat around with a case of cola at the bridge..."

"Had a drinking contest, which I won."

Obviously.

"No one can finish five cokes in ten seconds like you can."

You could feel Garou smirking as his arm around your waist got tighter and his free hand came to squeeze your cheek.

"You know it, sweetheart..."

He left an airy kiss at your temple and you happily wrapped your arms around his neck.

"I missed you a lot today."

You sheepishly admitted, burying your face into his chest, revelling in his scent.

"I couldn't stop thinkin' about ya' either..."

✯✯✯

You lifted your head to face him, interested in what he had to say.

"Believe me when I say I was itchin' to come home..."

Oh, his voice just lowered in tone. You gulped.

"All I could think about was you under me."

"Y-you're just saying that!"

Garou chuckled, his chest shaking under you as he did so.

"Now, why would I do that?"

"Because you like teasing me!"

He snickered, pulling you into a make-out session, tongue and all.

Before things could get too heated, you sat upright on his belly, hands pushing on his chest to keep him down.

Now would be the perfect time to show him the lingerie...

"What's wrong! Not feelin' it today?"

You shook your head and carefully got off of him. You opened up your wooden closet, slipping out the plastic bag that contained the special clothes.

Garou quirked a scruffy brow, confusion evident on his chiseled face.

"What the hell are ya' doin?"

You didn't answer. He'll find out soon enough.

"W-wait here, please..."

Garou obeyed your timid command and waited, sitting up at the edge of the bed, hunched over.

A considerable amount of time had passed and Garou pondered on whether to go look for you. What's takin' so long? Did you faint or somethin'?

You stood in your bathroom, adorning the dazzling lingerie, checking yourself out in the tall standing mirror. You thought you looked pretty good. You hoped Garou would appreciate you too...

Heaving out a nervous sigh, you anxiously strode back to your bedroom, stopping in front of the doorframe.

Garou heard your shuffling footsteps and looked up, eyes going from bored to shocked in a matter of seconds.

"Wha-what's all this?"

His voice sounded light, fluttering almost. His eyes stayed wide and shimmering and mouth hung open. Garou's cheeks began turning warmer, a darker shade than usual, catching your eye.

You shyly fidgeted near the door, fingers nervously twiddling in front of you.

A smile graced your features and Garou outstretched a hand and you placed your palm in his. He pulled you closer to him to see everything in better detail. You stood in front of his seated form holding his hand.

"I, I thought you'd like it so I..."

You murmured softly, glancing at his face to see his reaction.

"Yeah, I do. Ya' look...."

He bit his lip, looking you up and down. His free hand circled your hip, admiring the intricate lace that hung around your panties.

"...I can't say."

His hand glided over your stomach, fingers wrapping around the cup of your designer bra.

"Feels so good to touch."

You turned warmer, shuddering at his fluttering brushes.

"I-I want you t-to touch me..."

A meek sigh left your lips as he squeezed and rubbed your breast, his other hand keeping you still by your thigh.

"C'mere."

You gently sat down next to him, the mattress springing as you did. Bringing your fingers to his lips, he kept his nose pressed against them.

"This is a dream..."

"Yer' a dream..."

Garou's eyes watched as the netted flowers at the edge of your bra tickled your skin. He observed curiously, your movement, the shudders and mewls as he held your shoulder closer to him, squeezing and massaging your chest.

Your own fingers glazed over his semi-erect bulge and Garou groaned in satisfaction.

"It's been so long since we last did it..."

His statement prompted a chuckle and you replied.

"It's only been a few days..."

Garou's cheeks darkened even more and he wittily responded to your claim.

"A few days too many."

He kissed your neck, slowly trailing downwards until he reached your exposed shoulders, nipping at the soft flesh.

"Yer' too much for me."

He expressed everything lightly, his voice a mere whisper in your ears.

But, as if a switch had been flipped, his personality suddenly no longer remained tooth-rottingly sweet. Instead, emerged a growl from his throat, after which he let the most obscene words leave his mouth.

"Yer' tits look so good that way..."

He kissed the exposed surface of your breast, his eyes immediately darting to yours to capture your reaction.

You sighed in pleasure, his kisses and touches becoming more lewd each second.

Now, he sounded serious and much more domineering.

"Damn, those panties are too small for yer' ass!"

You took everything with humility, accepting his shameless complements.

It wasn't until his last statement that you felt really embarrassed.

His voice commanded you, instructed you deeply and slowly.

"Now, get on that bad and don't move until I get back with the camera..."

✯✯✯

Safe to say, Garou was really pleased with you that night. The two of you had gone at it till the break of dawn and now laid peacefully in each others embrace. Garou had stopped at nothing last night, having you so close in the clothes you were wearing just for him.

He had thought you looked absolutely ethereal in that babydoll piece, looking so innocently sexy. It was enough to keep him going for hours without end.

The two of you had definitely explored each others intimacy that night, broke some limits but enjoyed each other nonetheless.

After that experience, Garou demanded more and you happily provided. He couldn't get enough of you.

••End••

Bonus:

Garou carefully eyed the extravagant sets of garments lined up in front of him, some bolder and some more modest, all with different patterns and sizes. Holding a plastic bag containing your tasteful set of lingerie, he treaded deeper into the shop to look for a new one for you.

He wondered which one would suit you, pondering on the idea that you would want a sexier variation this time.

The establishment he walked through was the only one in his city, a rather renowned one at that. He didn't even know a store like this existed where he lived.

For now, he remained confused on which one he should get. They all seemed good and he thought virtually anything looked good on you. He was so lost in thought, it took him a while to notice someone had tapped him on the shoulder.

"Looking for anything in particular?"

A saleswoman stood behind him, waiting for an answer.

"Yeah, got anything like this but in this exact size?"

She asked him familiar questions about his lover and he answered shortly, somewhat annoyed at her prying.

The woman smirked, showing him almost all of the lingerie that the store had, especially the ones that would look good on you.

By the time Garou was done looking through everything, he had already found one he really liked and was in the process of purchasing it at the front desk.

The same woman kept a constant smirk on her face while scanning, removing the tags and packing the clothes up.

Garou hurriedly thanked her and pushed open the front door of the store, ready to depart.

Just then, a voice from behind him spoke out, making him turn his head with surprised eyes and a pretty pink blush on his cheeks.

"Say hello to Y/N for me!"

_________________________________________

Ahhh, finally it's out. Now, I sleep. Nah jk I have other ones to finish ಥ‿ಥ

#garou #garouonepunchman #opm garou #garou x reader #garou x fem reader #female reader #garou x s/o #s/o wears lingerie #reader wears lingerie #shy reader #shy s/o #garou x shy reader #garou x shy s/o

[messwriting]

Written for The Smut Pile Collab: Mafia AU | MASTERLIST HERE.

SCARRED HANDS

Iwaizumi Hajime (Older) x Female Reader

Rating: E for explicit | Don’t read this if under eighteen.

Warnings:  Mafia AU related plot, including drugs. gun traffic and homicide. Violence. SERIOUS TALK ABOUT GAMBLING, ADDICTION, DEBT AND FAMILY ISSUES/FORGIVENESS. Hajime is older, about early forties while Reader is in her twenties, so: Age gap.  Slow-burn (I think?). Presence of an OC named Rei in a side-ship with Mattsun. In this first part there’s no smut.

Part One | Part Two (soon) Word count: 7.5k

Note: This is my second contribution to The Smut Pile Collab, hosted by the lovelies @present-mel​, @pleasantanathema​ and @linestrider​. Thank you so much Claudia, @thisisthehardestthing​​​, for beta-ing this and all your amazing comments who have made me scream so much i’m pretty sure my neighbors are wary for my sanity. There’s a side OC/Mattsun here that is my small gift to @mixedhell​​ for everything she has always done for me and for being such a great beta, friend and enabler. <3

I was trying to not break this in two parts, but as it seems my brain keeps hellbent on putting more plot in this, it has become unavoidable. Uh, enjoy? This is my excuse of a fic to just love Iwaizumi at any and all given opportunity! Second part in the works but with no release date yet. <3

Iwaizumi never wanted this life. 

He thinks about it while cleaning his bloody knuckles with a wet cloth, taking care to surround the parts where the skin had broken, scars over scars to the point that he practically did not know what was old and what was recent. The pain didn't bother him anymore, a constant in his life to the point that he barely registered the new injuries. That was the life of the second-in-command of the Seijoh Mafia.

He lived a poor childhood, violent teenage years. At the time, he didn’t have much choice in resorting to crime. It was easy, even; he was good with his hands, fast and built broad and strong since he was young. When his only and best friend told him he wanted to be the Boss, he’d almost laughed before seeing that familiar glint in his friend's eyes – that pure, fierce determination Oikawa had been practically born with– and, void of a dream for himself, he pledged himself to that of his only family.

“Take him to the back,” Hajime tells his trusted duo, who watched over him and the man they’ve been working for the past hour. Matsukawa nods shortly and puts out the cigarette he was smoking, still in half, on the nearest surface, before addressing the bloody man tied to a chair.

“What are you going to do now?” Hanamaki asks from the entrance threshold, not looking at him but rather to the night sky above them outside the deposit in the outskirts of the town. His joint is ending, sweet smoke blowing out and swirling up. 

“I’ll tell Oikawa,” Iwaizumi says like it was obvious. “He’s gonna have to be more careful with his companies.”

Hanamaki snorts while smiling. “Not that he’ll listen.”

Hajime shrugs, throwing the blood-stained rag back without a care for where it’ll land. “That’s his problem.” Then he sighs, looking up at the smoke from Hanamaki’s joint swirling around the wind. “The mole is ours.”

--

Iwaizumi has a special place, if he could call it that. 

He discovered the owner had died with consternation, when he went to the place at his usual time and found it, for what was probably the first time in more than a decade, closed. The diner operated until the ignoble hours of the night, which is why, since Iwaizumi was still a soldier, he used to spend the last hours of his day or the early hours of his mornings there, in what he’d call his little break in between work; his moment of calm even on the most eventful nights of his violent life.

Since he had risen the ranks rather quickly, the habit had given way to certain care with the frequency in which he visited the place, although the time had little variation and was always after two in the morning. 

It was the moment when the night calmed down, the clubs and parties booming, the restaurants that opened at early hours already closed; the brave few passers-by running to their safe places on empty streets while the cars running through the streets lessened by the minute. This was the time when night-shift policemen were already tired of both the events of their shift and the long worked hours, nodding off in their cars.

The diner was on a street just a few blocks away from the heaviest area of ​​the city, where clubs and parties continued until the bright hours of the morning; the drug traffic in these places had been feeding the old mafia veins for decades, since before Iwaizumi, and he was certain he would meet his end way before it did. 

The place was small, nothing much, two big windows beyond the door showing the old, almost vintage interior, careless by the owner who never paid much attention to the decorative aspect of the place. Twenty years ago, when Iwaizumi went from being a simple associate to a soldier, just beginning his life as a man, the place was busier, almost famous - and even then the nights were always the quietest shift, the time where degenerates inherited the city.

Iwaizumi didn't know exactly what had disappointed him so much when he found out that old Lou had gone for the better. Lou wasn't even the old man’s real name - he just adopted it once the name of the diner -- Lou’s Diner -- ended up merging with his in the daily life of being the business owner. Iwaizumi was a constant presence in the place enough to know that Lou, in fact, was the name of the old man's wife, who had died young.

In fact, Iwaizumi spent the days following the discovery of the man’s passing trying to figure out where the place would end - Lou had never said anything about family, but there was always the possibility that the business had been pledged in warrant of some debt and if not, there was the bank. The old man wasn’t exactly what you’d call an exemplary business manager.

A surprise came again when Iwaizumi drove past the place during the day and for the first time in three weeks, there was movement inside the diner - and his first thought is theft. 

It wouldn’t be surprising, considering both the neighborhood and the fact that with the place closed three weeks before, every thug in the street knows that everything is still there.

Iwa sighs, then makes a u-turn so he can park close to the alley on the diner’s corner. He’s surprised, but he realizes it is, in fact, not the case. Unless the young woman holding a broom and looking around as she rolls up the sleeves of a loose oversized T-shirt over normal jeans shorts were, somehow, a phenomenal smuggler.

Against his better judgment, Iwaizumi gets out of his BMW and steps carefully onto the sidewalk, checking his surroundings with practiced ease. The glass doors of the diner are wide open, sidewalk wet and leaking soapy water into the street. Iwa crosses through it with little care, pausing for a moment while the oblivious girl inside keeps brushing away.

“Hello,” Iwaizumi salutes from the wide open doors, perhaps to also let the place breathe some air after the days closed. You startle, the broom in your hand flying to the floor with a loud crash. 

“Holy fuck!” you yelp, turning around with both hands in front of your body. “Are you trying to kill me, dude?” 

Iwaizumi almost chuckles, the corners of his lips turning up. 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” He takes his hands out of his pockets, showing them in front of his body as a sign of peace. And it isn’t like he can’t easily kill you and anyone you may have inside with just them.

“Oh god. My heart,” you murmur, clenching your shirt over your chest while sucking in a few breaths. Your eyes finally come up to his. “Sorry, I think I was just too distracted.”

Hajime nods. He isn’t a man to say sorry twice. “I was just passing by and noticed the diner open. It’s been closed for some weeks, so I was just checking.”

“Oh, sure.” Your mouth opens in a small ‘o’, and Iwaizumi is surprised at how it got his attention. Pretty lips on an even prettier face. “Yeah… I’m reopening it this week. I just need to fix some things around here.”

Iwaizumi gives you a once over. Discreetly. He leans against the doorframe, curiosity winning him over.  “So, you bought it?”

“What?” you laugh, hand coming to wipe the sweat from your brow. “No. I inherited it."

Iwaizumi assumes that he was unable to hide his surprise by the way your lips move to form an amused smile.

“Ha, yes, most people have the same reaction as you.” You bend to grab the broom in the ground and Iwaizumi’s eyes tread for a second too long along the spanse of your body while you’re not looking. “Which is funny, and also tells a whole tale about the old man.”

“I suppose it does,” Iwaizumi nods once while speaking.

He looks over the place, sees the few changes being done; the paint cans on the ground, the boxes by the corner, the shelfs being replaced and the new color of the upholstered sofas. You in the middle of it all -- the new and the old. 

“I’ll leave you to your cleaning, then. It’s good to know the place isn’t closing.” 

Before you can say anything else, he’s already taking his leave. 

You turn around to thank him but Iwaizumi is already far down the sidewalk, not sparing a glance at you once his back is turned. Your head bends sideways almost involuntary, eyes threading the expanse of his broad back, clad in a beautiful light blue social shirt, rolled sleeves over bulging forearms, with black slacks and expensive looking shoes. While you hoped you didn’t stare before, now you are free to do so and wow, that is a beautiful male specimen if you ever saw one. 

Your first thought is that he didn’t belong in here -- the scenario of a beaten up street and a mildly abandoned diner, in the middle of the day on the foul part of the city. Then again, he looks rather at ease, familiarized, and it isn’t like you can know someone from just one look. 

If anything, a good looking man like that always comes with a catch.

“Hey,” your friend comes through the kitchen doors, looking pretty much like you, tired and sweaty after the morning deep cleaning. “What's going on here? I heard something but I was on the phone”

“Oh,” you say, then grin mischievously at her. “A hot piece of man just passed by asking about the diner.”

“No!” your friend almost cried, lips pressing together in a pout. “See! This is why I keep being single! I never get to see any hotties from the fucking kitchen.”

“Hey, not my fault you decided to be a cook.”

--

Iwaizumi tells himself he’s just checking on the place he likes.

It’s out of a weird misplaced sentimentality, he reasons. He’s been going there for years after all. He’s checking out the new owner, that’s it. The young woman who somehow inherited Lou’s bar. The pretty young woman who was redecorating and cleaning the place that probably didn’t get any love for the last fifteen years. And that’s what Iwaizumi is telling himself when he crosses the city at late hours of the night because the first thing he needs to know is if you’re stupid enough to actually open the place until the ungodly hours of mornings like the old man used to.

And, sure enough, you are. 

It’s past three in the morning when Iwaizumi parks on the other side of the street, but the regulars pour in like clockwork at the sight of the open diner -- old fellas, mostly, and some passersby who work at night. The whores, and the tired workers, all mingling the later it gets. Iwaizumi counts five clients, which is a busy night, and somehow he struggles to find security in your arrangement. 

It’s a weird feeling to have for someone -- worry -- and for all the constant preoccupation he has going on in his life with Oikawa, he’s sure he hasn't felt that particular brand of it in some time. 

For that same reason, Hajime turns around and leaves.

A week later and he’s back. 

This time it’s earlier in the night, just past midnight and the diner is empty save for three regulars he knows well enough. Iwaizumi hates to admit it, but he’s curious; Matsukawa told him that the place had been closing at four and reopening at eleven, with not exactly lots of clients, but with enough patrons to not be discouraged. 

But it was the fact that the man depicted the place as “nice” that got Iwaizumi interested.  Mattsun is not the kind to throw empty comments like those and there was a glint in this man's eyes that made him suspicious. If a small hint of jealousy sparks on Iwa’s chest, he says it’s for the place.

He signals for Makki to turn a curve so he can get off on the other side of the street and tells him to park somewhere out of sight. He doesn’t like to have the BMW close, working as a beacon; the fact Iwa already dares to have a routine place is trouble enough. 

“Bring me a coffee when you come back.” The strawberry blonde tells him while perching himself over the car window, driving off before Iwaizumi can give him a nasty stare. Iwa takes his time on the pavement directly across the diner, lighting a cigarette while moving to cross the street. 

The bell that rings when he crosses the door threshold surprises him for a moment, bringing the stares of everyone inside to him. Some of the old regulars nod his way, and Iwaizumi nods in return, a stiff greeting but one they grew used to in the years of sharing the space.

You look eager, eyebrows shooting up as if you’re not expecting to see him standing in the middle of the place like that. Then, your lips turn up into a smile and Iwaizumi almost misses the sentiment behind it. It’s been far too long since someone looks this pleased into seeing him anywhere. 

Well, with the exception of Oikawa. But that’s because he normally shows up to save the man’s stupid ass.

Iwaizumi walks over to his usual spot, in the back, by the window and sits on the newer looking red sofa. The scratched old table looks bright with new polishing. He notes the changes, appreciates them even: the cleaner looking designs despite the vintage diner ambience, the cream walls, the new smell of good food and well brewed coffee. 

The ground is clean for the first time in a few years, the glass windows and doors looking good and there’s an overall different air around the small place. It feels good. Iwaizumi isn’t used to it. You come close to him, no uniform but jeans and a loose white shirt with a black apron tied around your middle, a coffee pot in one hand and a cup in the other.

“Hello there. Good night -- or day, depending on how your life works.” Your smile is disconcerting. You signal with your head to the coffee. “Want some coffee?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“No worries.” You pour some for him and ask if he wants milk or cream, which he doesn’t. Iwaizumi likes his coffee black. “Can I bring the menu?”

It’s on the tip of his tongue to say no. But he’s curious about what you’re doing with the place, so he nods. Again, you smile while nodding and leaving, and Iwaizumi is baffled by your disposition to be nice at this hour. The old mas was more of a fuck-it kinda person, so it’s a small whishplash to have actual service in here.

Before you leave, however, you turn back and smile at him in what Hajime can only define as playfully. 

“Glad you finally decided to come in and give us a shot.” Your eyes are bright with mirth, proud of yourself for being so observant, and in the late hours of night he feels charged. “I promise you it’s not so bad.”

Oh, Hajime thinks as his face feels slightly warm, a twitch on his fingertips while he looks at your pretty face. This can’t be good.

You wait a bit. Seeing as the whole movement inside the diner changes with the small addition of one man at the corner table. You realise people haven’t sat on that table during the late nights, even when Iwaizumi had yet to even enter the place before.

So, you brace yourself with all the courage you’ve been mustering, and pretend to offer him a refill of coffee while walking over. You’ve been conjuring up theories for him since you saw him the first time, perched on the doors while you were cleaning, and it didn’t help that you kept seeing his car passing around the place for some time before he finally decided to come to the diner.

“Are you an old regular or something?” you ask while refilling his cup with hot, freshly brewed coffee. You’d lie if anyone asked if you did a whole new coffee pot just to find an opening to talk to him.

“Why do you ask?” His eyes are always so deep, the musky green color seemingly pulling you in, black irises eating you up. Your pulse quickens but you hold his eyes on yours even as your face grows warm.

“It’s just that you’re always here.” The words tumble out of your mouth quickly as you deposit the coffee pot on the table, looking at him almost eagerly. “Most of my regulars seem to know you and leave you alone. So I thought that maybe, you know, you may come here for the old times sake.”

He holds your eyes with his for a moment, then looks down to the cup of coffee while he brings it to his lips. 

“I guess you could say that.” 

It feels like a period. Like he isn’t much for small talk, so you pat the apron in front of you, pick up the coffee pot from the table and nod while looking back to the counter to mask your disappointment with such a short conversation.

“Hmm, got’cha.”

“So, the old man was your father?” His voice picks up a tone higher and you turn with big eyes to him. He looks quiet, observant while he looks up at you and somehow, without nothing to hold on, you decide you want to talk to him some more.

“No, I never knew my dad. The stupid man was my grandpa.” 

“Hm,” Iwaizumi nods, his eyes still on you. For some reason you can’t stand the silence, so you keep talking.

“He’d left the business for me and if I'm honest things were not going great where I was so,” you shrug. “I thought about giving this a shot.”

“And your mom?” His eyes on yours make you feel pressured and also lacking, your mouth working before your mind can really think. “She’s been dead since I was a kid.”

He blinks, surprised, and when he speaks he sounds so genuine you smile, “sorry to hear that.” 

“No problem. It’s life, right?” you ask rhetorically, an unwavering smile on your face and bright eyes despite the forlorn subject. Hajime’s chest does something weird at the sight, eyes moving down to the coffee mug by his hands.

Is it? Hajime doesn’t know. But he also hasn't had parents or any kind of family besides Oikawa and the trouble duo, so he nods, murmuring agreement. You leave him alone for the rest of the night, but not without getting his name and introducing yourself; and you do it mostly because you’re still unsure about the man. He’s quiet, mostly keeps to himself while drinking his coffee and sometimes ordering something he never finishes, but other than that, he doesn’t do much. Which, despite that, doesn’t change the fact he sticks out like a sore thumb in the middle of the place. 

His clothes are expensive even if they’re simple; his watch and rings glints under the diner lights, catching attention; and his eyes are like two black gunbarrels pointed straight at you in a face with a jawline sharp enough to cut. 

He makes you feel slightly unnerved and a whole lot interested. 

 Hajime wonders, as he exits the dinner and walks the short distance to where Makki has parked the car, if he has enough reasons to be worried about you. He enters the back of the expensive black BMW, gives the annoying blonde his promised coffee and nods so he can start driving. Iwaizumi settles on the backseat and turns to look at Hanamaki, eyeing him through the rearview mirror.

“Makki.” 

“Yes, Boss.” The answer comes immediately.

“Is this place in anyone's rotation?” Makki’s eyes thread to the mirror to look Hajime back.

“Old Lou’s dinner?”

“Yes.”

Makki’s brows furrow in thought while he seems to think it over. “I’m not sure, but I don’t think so.” His eyes lock on Hajime’s figure through the rearview mirror and Iwa counts the seconds until he asks, since his curiosity always wins. ”Why?”

“Check it for me.”  It’s the end of conversation, and Makki knows. He nods.

“‘kay, Iwa.”

Iwaizumi’s thoughts are brewing, his brows furrowing deeply while he thinks over the whole exchange from earlier.

In a short conversation of a few minutes, you already unsuspectingly told him that you had no family left, no one to miss you if you’re gone. From that he can infer the easy things -- that you probably live alone, seeing as he’s never seen a boyfriend in the restaurant or calling you while you’re working the counter; that you must either live in your grandpa’s house or a small apartment if you’re trying to make more money by renting the old man’s place; that you probably leave alone after closing the dinner -- and he got all that by an easy small talk over coffee. 

Iwa’s lips turn sour while he turns to watch over the streets late at night, the dangerous things that lie in the dark. He ignores that he, himself, is one of them. 

Yes, maybe he should check on you.

--

Iwaizumi observes with a frown while Oikawa waltzes inside his penthouse with his new friend. The woman is, much like all of Oikawa’s partners, beautiful. Luxurious hair and curves, all wrapped in an equally expensive package the color of bright fucking red. Tonight things are less busy in the place, with Iwaizumi and the duo in the living room, while Kunimi keeps watch on the door from his position bended over the counter. Like with everything in his life, the man looks bored and done at the same time.

“I have to give it to him, he does have taste.” Hanamaki points it out unemotionally, his eyes threading along the lady of the moment hanging off Oikawa’s arm. Mattsun looks up from his phone in time to catch a look, his arched brow doing an appearance.

“Yeah, but that’s not new.”

“The idiot blows through women as you do with joints.” Iwaizumi scoffs, twirling his cup of whisky and enjoys the moment to sip his drink. “Which is stupid, both of you.”

“Couldn’t hear your criticism over the sound of you downing that whisky.” Hanamaki pipes in and Mattsun laughs but quickly retrieves himself back to his phone once Iwaizumi gives both of them a nasty glare. 

On the other side of the room, Oikawa parts ways with his company, probably telling the woman to go somewhere inside his apartment while he handles business. His companion’s normally don’t ask much about what he does -- the less they know, the less they lie.

While Iwaizumi does understand the appeal of having someone to warm his bed at night like that, it just seems ridiculous to parade them around as Oikawa does; as if they’re a walking vitrine of his power and money, clad in so many brilliants, Hajime wonders if Oikawa can even see them through the shine.

Iwaizumi sighs when Oikawa finally moves in their direction, crossing his leg over his thigh as he stretches his back against the chair backrest. He drinks the rest of the whisky in one go.

 “I see you already treated yourself to some beverage, Iwa-chan.”

The ridiculous nickname stuck, even after all these years, no matter how many glares and curses Hajime threw his way– and Oikawa has seen Hajime kill men before. Still, the brunette stays unwavering in his teasing -- and Iwa has made arrangements to make sure no one but him feels free to use that denomination.

“Good whisky ain’t making me nicer, shittykawa.” There’s also the fact Iwaizumi maintains his mockery with his friend, even as most of the Mob now call him Boss. He supposes it’s good to have few good childhood memories, if one can.

“At least it makes you less grumpy.” 

Iwaizumi wonders if people would believe him if he told them the Boss pokes his tongue out and flops on the sofa then again, Oikawa’s charm is in being unwavering himself. When Oikawa crosses his leg over his knee and blinks feral, focused eyes over Iwaizumi, it’s easy to see the beast that brought him into the position as the chief in command of the Seijoh Mafia. “So, what did you have to tell me that couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

“You’re being reckless,” Iwa starts, calm. “I’ve told you about being careful with your companion’s while I’m busy handling that subject.”

Oikawa pretends not to listen, falling back on his big chair without a care in the world. 

“She’s a friend!” His face turns smug, even while there’s a small whine in his voice. It’s a stark difference from the feral Oikawa Tooru that put fear in the hearts of every Mafia in the bordering neighborhoods where they acted and climbed the ranks so fast, he became the head of Seijoh mob while only closing in on his early thirties -- and that was ten years ago. Still, around Iwaizumi, Oikawa keeps being the same brat he ever was.

“You need to get laid, Iwa.” The brunette laughs a bit, pouring more whisky for both of them. “How long it’s been, huh? Two decades? That’s how long your frown has been etched onto your face.”

Makki and Mattsun try to hide their smiles, but it’s futile.

“Don’t worry about my love life.”

“Love life?” Now Oikawa laughs, hand smacking his knee in his amusement. “I’m talking fucking, Iwa. We don’t have time for love.”

“Another reason why you shouldn’t worry about what doesn’t pertain to you.”

“Ohh~” Iwaizumi hates that he saw the singsong coming, “such big words. Gosh, that must mean it’s been years without action down there.”

“Why the worry, Tooru?” Iwaizumi asks, voice turning deep, eyes threading over Oikawa’s face. That has happened -- and ended, but it didn’t mean the two men didn’t play around it sometimes.

“Is the sex you’ve been getting so bad, you’ve been worried about mine?” Iwa scoffs, drinks a full mouth of whisky and turns to look at Oikawa once again. 

“You look too old to be getting any action,” Oikawa mocks him, snickering behind his glass. “Look at those lines and wrinkles, oh gosh Iwa, we’re the same age, you’re making me look bad.”

“Shut up, trashykawa,” Iwaizumi grumbles. “I’m just going to tell you this time: fucking behave. I’m looking into the mole, but you need to watch your back.”

“I thought that was your job, though.”

“Makes it a bit fucking hard when you bring home a diferent friend every night. Babysitting a toddler would be easier than you.” Iwaizumi grumbles and scoffs, finishing his drink in one go. “I’m doing my job. Now listen to me so that I can do it well.”

Iwaizumi slams his glass on the wooden coffee table and stands, the sound loud but not enough to disturb the rest of the men around the place. Maddog does look at Iwaizumi as if thinking what’s the cause for his distress, but the man has learned long ago that Oikawa rattles on everyone's nerves at some point -- Iwa just happens to be ticked more than the rest, a consequence of being friends with the man, he assumes.

Iwa pats his slacks, re-doing the button on his suit and walks away, moving a hand in the air as a way to say goodbye to Oikawa. “Your friend is waiting for you.” 

Hanamaki and Matsukawa are behind him before he stops in front of the elevator doors, Kunimi not even looking up as the three of them leave. “Try not to be dead by the morning.”

“I’ll do my best~” Oikawa singsongs back, a carefree smile on his face. 

Mattsun is driving tonight and that means Hanamaki is speaking the whole time, going on about how the Karasuno Mob is growing, potentially able to slip between Seijoh and Shiratorizawa’s territory if they’re not careful. Iwaizumi listens, but doesn’t really offer anything to the discussion; he’s too caught up in his head, wondering about what he’s going to do with Oikawa and how he can flush out the mole as fast as possible until something catches his ear, every thought in his mind freezing at the mention of the diner neighborhood.

“What did you say?”

“Huh?” Makki stops, looking back through the seat. “Oh, some of ours have been talking about seeing Shiratorizawa around downtown territory.” Makki turns serious, and it happens so rarely that the moment his demeanor shifts, Iwaizumi actually grasps his worries by the simple difference in the air surrounding the blonde. “Johzenji too.”

Now, that’s worrisome. While Seijoh and Shiratorizawa have some shared business in downtown and somewhat of a truce on those places, Johzenji is way too far from its limits, crossing borders they know they should not. Iwaizumi catches sight of how his frown actually caves lines on his forehead and Oikawa’s snickers pops in his mind as if the male was right there, he scoffs but his look is serious.

They can’t leave it that way.

Hajime tells himself that the fact that your face pops in his mind and the thought of a territorial war a few blocks away from the Diner makes his hands constrict into fists, has nothing to do with how fast he decided he must handle it. 

But it gets a little less believable as he orders Matsukawa to keep an eye out on your street, like if it wasn’t clear that by your street -- he meant you.

--

You notice the man staying around.

Actually, you doubt anyone hasn’t noticed the tall man who likes to linger just a bit too much around your diner as if he’s your hired security guard or something. He’s taller than most people, broad and built enough for you to see it in the way his clothes cling to his form, and has this fixation with metal, because both his ears are pierced and his knuckles are always adorned with thick rings. He looks bad, and has a cigarette pending from his lips to crown the look. Which, of course, prompts half the women population who enjoy your diner to look. It probably doesn’t help that despite his aloof behavior he can be quite the charmer.

And you’re suspecting your cook and friend is falling for it.

“If you light that cigarette right now after I’ve just told you to leave and smoke outside, I swear to god I’ll use the fire extinguisher on you, Matsukawa-san.” You always chastise him out of the Dinner once he starts smoking, since Issei has no respect for the very big, very red “no smoking” sign you had to purchase just because of him. He grins at you from his high seat on the counter and lifts his hands in a sign of rendition.

“Okay, honey. I’ll drop it.” 

You eye him very sharply until his fingers finally close around his cigar and he takes it out the clasp of his lips. You watch until he pockets it again in his metal case. Then, you finally blink and nod, turning to enter inside your kitchen. You’ve made the mistake of trusting him before, letting him out of your sight once he signaled defeat when you reprimanded him, just to come out and find him smoking anyway. So, now, you take the extra precautions with him, reason why you open the door without warning to check on him, finding him calmly studying the menu. 

He eyes you and blinks, a big grin splitting his face. 

“I’ll behave,” he crosses a finger over his heart like a scout. ”Promise.” 

You snort, but turn around and enter the kitchen space, yelling at your friend the newest orders, to which she just yells back a fine.

You grab the done plates– buttermilk pancakes and swiss omelette with orange juice and black coffee– and push the door outside with your hip, while calmly balancing everything on your tray. 

It’s a quiet late-morning, most of the regulars have already left for work and you’re dealing with the unusual clients, just three if you count Mattsun.

Once you’re back at the counter, Matsukawa is signaling with the menu for you to come over. 

“So, what’s your order, Matsukawa-san?”

“First, I’d like you to drop the san, it makes me feels fucking old.” 

You tease him just the bit by giving him a pointed look with a very arched eyebrow. 

“Stop it,” he hisses at you, eyes narrowing. “Don’t you fuckin-”

“You are old,” you tell him, pleased with yourself when he hisses as if burned, making you sport a big smile while on it. He’s glaring at you. “See, this is how I feel when I catch you smoking once I tell you not to.”

His lopsided grin is a panty-dropper; too bad you’re thinking about how it would be if someone else grinned at you like that. “Valid.” 

The seconds tick by while you wait for Matsukawa to say his order but he just stares at you as if you’re slowly losing your mind. You sigh, resist the urge to facepalm but do press two fingers into the middle of your forehead in an upwards motion to help with the stress, to look at him again and smile. 

“Your order, Matsukawa-san?”

“Again with the -san? Let me make a deal with you. You call me Issei and I’ll never smoke inside again.”

You eye him suspiciously but ultimately decide it’s a nice deal. 

“Deal,” you say, while jutting your lips out to hide a smile, still looking for hints he may be lying. “And if I catch you smoking inside again I’ll start calling you Jiji.”

Issei’s eyes go large, eyebrows shooting up to his hairline until he coughs and sputters, “you wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

The stare-down goes for a few seconds until you end it by saying, “I’ll get your regular,” and turning around to leave.

“This isn’t over!”

“Yeah, yeah, just behave.”

Once you’re in the kitchen, the clattering and noises are loud.

“You should chill a bit before you end up completely mutilating the pans, Rei. Half my money is in your kitchen.”

She throws you a nasty glare from across all the other way by her stove, doing God knows what but whatever it is smells heavenly.

“Do you believe the gall of this idiot outside?”

“Yep,” you chirp, but you eye her closely while she continues. You know her enough to know what’ll happen next.

“He had the fucking nerve to say my food was too salty.”

“Uh,” Escapes your lips, but you narrow your eyes at her, taking in the redness of her face, the way she looks overheated and the gesticulating arms while she walks around using too much strength while opening and closing the kitchen cabinets.

“SALTY!” She hollers to the emptiness of her kitchen, which pretty much makes it echo through the walls. You’re half certain you can hear Matsukawa chuckling outside. You wait for it, by now you know it’s coming. “I’ll show him what the fuck being too salty means.” She keeps going, cranky and beating the pans with that bit too much strength so that the clanks and tinkling sound loud even to you. You wait just a little bit more. “That handsome motherfucker, I’ll fucking deck him with my frying pan!”

And there it is.

You snicker just the tiniest bit, and put the order for his regular. She snatches it from your hand and points a paring knife at you.

“Don’t you dare say anything.” She does look fairly threatening, but the thing is that you’ve been on the other side of that knife one too many times to care now.

“Hey, if you like insufferable assholes, who am I to judge?”

“Fuck you.”

--

The movement is slow tonight, the cold weather with a drizzle makes your regulars stay home and the streets stay empty. It’s just a bit past midnight and you already know you’re closing early. Iwaizumi has been seated at his usual spot for a good twenty minutes already and, much like every other night, he’s just doing nothing -- looking over the street, reading the paper, sometimes a book or daring to look at his phone. Rei is still moving around in the kitchen and there’s only one other person in the diner -- an old man eating his soup calmly on the whole other side.

You feel restless; your eyes keep darting to him as if waiting to be caught, definitely not being the subtle person you hope to be, nothing catches your attention when Iwaizumi sits calmly by the window reading the paper and sipping on fresh coffee. Your eyes thread through his broad shoulders, poorly hidden under the fitted black social button up, rolled sleeves showing big, veiny forearms leading to strong, broad hands that seem even bigger when they engulf the coffee mug.

Hajime wears one ring, thick, black and a matching watch that probably costs as much as this whole place. You don’t need to see it to know his dark grey slacks are fitted; you’ve caught sight of it when he entered and you think there’ll be hell on earth before you forget how perfectly it hugs his frame, how delicious his ass is and how his waist is marked, beautifully, by the black belt. You thank the gods that he had already disposed of his suit jacket, or you’d be unable to survive so long.

 You’re probably drooling, so you tear your eyes from him to make yourself a hot cup of coffee and hope that you can pretend the flustered feeling in your insides is from the steaming caffeine quickening your heart. However, seeing as your eyes drag slowly back to him, you think that’s a lost battle. 

You drink a bit, breathe some more and decide to say fuck it. You’re not risking anything -- if he doesn’t want to talk, he can just say so. So you wash your hands, shed your apron and pick your coffee mug back up while walking to him. Before you even tread more than two steps, his deep, hard green eyes are already looking at you. They’re so impenetrable and focused, you wonder if he looks long enough, will he see your mind?

The thought makes your face heat up and you swallow the saliva pooling on your mouth before speaking,“mind if I sit?”

He nods no, but still answers, “go ahead.”

You slide on the seat in front of him, and for a second you regret your choice. Up close and with nowhere else to look, he’s even bigger -- his frame engulfs anything past his shoulders, his eyes demanding the sole focus of yours and you give it to him. But there’s a thought in your mind that helps you fight back the urge to let yourself slide and drown in the pool of deep green.

“So, I've been meaning to ask,” you tread carefully, knowing it’s a minefield ahead. You’ve been alone in this world with just your grandpa for a long time, and he was no saint. You’re no stranger to the fact that his diner has always been in mob-controlled territory. You’ve seen him bullied into paying back gambling loans too many times to not know how a bad man looks, and still, here you are, body warming and trembling just by the sight of what must be the baddest of them all.  “Were you friends with my grandpa or something?”

Iwaizumi looks at you, blinks and then hums a question, slightly furrowed brows his only sign of confusion. “Hm?”

“It’s just that I’ve noticed… that you seem like you’ve been taking care of this place… of me.” You speak while your eyes keep darting between his face and down, a warm feeling seeping from your eyes that makes his brain slow down, too caught up in watching you until he realizes he walked into a tricky question.

Fuck. Think fast, Hajime. 

“We weren’t exactly friends. But he was a mean card player and he got a lot of money out of me.” Iwaizumi speaks fondly, which is probably the only thing indicating that he isn’t here for some wicked king of payback. You nod while your brows slide up.

“I’m sure you also took a lot of money from him.”

“If I was lucky,” he pauses, “I don’t like to bet. But it was nice to play against him, even without betting.”

“I’m surprised he wanted to play without betting.”

“Rare occasions.” Iwa muses with a small smile in the corner of his lips.

Iwaizumi looks at you again, that deep stare as if he’s trying to catch your soul intent. “What I mean with that is… He never talked about you. Or having a family, for that matter.”

“Well… it’s like you put it. He was a gambler. And before he got good, he was bad. We struggled a lot with his debt while I was growing up. Once I left the house and I was working and got into college... he called me, asking for money.  He knew I had a college fund -- small, but you know, enough to get by for a few years. I gave some of it to him and I told him that if he was going to call me for money, it’d be better if he didn’t call at all, so… our relationship was pretty strained this last few years.” 

Iwaizumi doesn’t know what to say. So he tests around something he hasn't used in a long time, “sorry.”

“It’s fine. I just couldn’t possibly deal with his debt on top of mine, you know. And it was his choice not to call me for other reasons, so.” You shrug your shoulders, eyes downcast for a moment. If Iwaizumi ever knew how to console someone, he’d forgotten it a long time ago, but he’ll swear on his gun and every god above that he wishes he was sensible enough now to offer any kind of words that can resemble solace. He doesn’t know what you find in his face that makes you do a funny face, nose wrinkling, while smiling.

“It’s ok, I don’t hate him, you know. I just... He’s dead and I can’t help but think these things are in the past. Which may be fucked up but I’ve made my choice not to go through life with these demons.”

Iwaizumi nods, solemn. He knows a thing or twelve about going through life with demons and he wishes that you didn’t have to bear this even for the smallest of seconds. It gnaws inside your being, and the places where their claws sink usually fester. But, he doesn’t even risk thinking about what it’d be like for him to live without them -- they’re the closest to penitence for a whole life of sin he’s ever gonna get.

Talking to Hajime makes hours fly by like minutes. 

He’s not very talkative himself, but he’s a great listener and he gives you fair, honest answers so you try to do the same. You ask him about the old man, what he’d been doing, and Hajime doesn’t even blink while saying that he kept gambling until his death; tells you how he’d been worried that the diner had been offered as collateral to some debt and would fall victim of your grandpa’s addiction even after his death. You tell him about life after college, how disheartening and anxious it was, how you’ve struggled without finding a job and hustled your way together with Rei. You tell him how you’ve felt good to win the Diner -- the new ideas and purpose, the excitement and how fun it was to think about life like this -- a business owner. 

The one thing Hajime doesn’t tell you about is his job, which you feel is answer enough; and when you ask him about the late nights at the Diner, his lips quirk up and your heart quickens, whole body warming at how he tells you the diner has a special place in his life and that he doesn’t likes to sleep, only crashing once the sun come out.

He stays with you as you bid Rei farewell and close the restaurant, walks you to his car and drives you to your house. His car doesn’t move until you make it safe inside and only when your face comes to the window, does it starts to move away.

-

[to be continued]

#iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi fic #haikyuu fanfic #iwaizumi haikyuu #mafia au #thesmutpilecollab

[slugtranslation-hypmic]

What're your thoughts on everyone's MC names? Or maybe your ratings out of 10?

This is going to be a roasting session because I do not have high opinions of any of them.

Buster Bros - B.B., M. B., and L. B. These all get one bullet point because they are pretty much the same thing. Therefore their score will be cut into thirds for each Bro. Unfortunately, that score is not going to be high because the creativity level on this set of names is just about negative. A lot of the MC names are based on kanji readings or other things in Japanese that I’m sure I would find incredibly clever if I didn’t understand English. Unfortunately, I do, so characters named “First Son”, “Second Son”, and “Third Son” going by “Big Brother”, “Middle Brother”, and “Little Brother” utterly fail to impress me. Rating: 1 out of 10 (1/3 out of 10 for each)

Samatoki - Mr. Hardcore Oh, he’s trying. Samatoki feels like one of those people who tries so hard to prove how badass and tough he is while I’m loudly yelling from the sideline, “You’re doing great, sweetie! Tell your little friends we have Capri Suns and fruit snacks when you’re done with your playdate!” A perfect man child. Rating: Nemu’s secondhand embarrassment out of 10

Juuto - 45 Rabbit This one feels really impersonal. The 45 is from one of the Yokohama telephone area codes (afaik) and the rabbit is from the kanji for rabbit in his name. It doesn’t tell me anything about Juuto’s personality, though. I feel like MTC probably all had animal names once upon a time before they realized that “bush warbler” (Riou) and “horse” (Samatoki) aren’t exactly the most intimidating of titles. I mean... it’s okay. Could be worse. Rating: 4 out of 10

Riou - Crazy M This one confuses the hell out of me. Why, out of the entire cast, did they give the title “crazy” to the character who most strongly resembles a grandma? I also find it bizarre that they chose to honor the “M” from his middle name, but I think the writers at Hypmic are so titillated by the concept of middle names that they don’t know how to handle them responsibly. Rating: ??? out of 10

Ramuda - Easy R I really dislike this one for no good reason, but it does imply the existence of a “Hard R” which is very useful for making infantile jokes. Rating: 69 out of 10

Gentarou - Phantom This one isn’t bad. I think it’s a bit of an odd choice in English, but I completely understand where it comes from in Japanese. I’m assuming they wanted the word 幻影 which means an illusion or a vision. It fits with his whole theme and Fling Posse’s theme as a whole, so I’ll give it to them. Rating: 8 out of 10

Dice - Dead or Alive Outside of an 80′s British pop band, I have no idea what this name is supposed to make me think of. Perhaps it’s foreshadowing for the dark turn the FP storyline takes later on...? This is another odd one. I’d like to imagine that Dice and Riou came up with their MC names together while absolutely hammered, and when their teammates went, “Really?” they were at that point too hungover to think of anything better. Rating: ??? out of 10

Jakurai - illDoc When I was first doing the job interview for my current job a few years back, I had to listen as my now-boss, a white, old, upper-middle class, absolutely disillusioned about everything old codger, called himself “the OG” to my face. “It means Old Guy,” he told me. I smiled and nodded, because I wanted money, and in the meantime I wondered who the fuck called him an “original gangster” and then never properly explained what it meant. This is the exact same way I feel about this name, but Jakurai doesn’t pay me, so I can say whatever the hell I want about his tenuous grasp of slang. Rating: God no out of 10

Hifumi - GIGOLO Appropriately for Hifumi, I am of two minds about this. On the one hand, I hate it. On the other hand, Hifumi’s name is written as “1 2 3″ in kanji, and “jigoro” is pronounced as “4 5 6″, so that is very clever. Rating: 7 out of 8

Doppo - DOPPO I hate this one so much. I seriously wonder if this is a leftover relic from very early planning sessions where Gentarou was a part of Matenrou or something. (I say this because “Doppo” would be fine for an author character, as many classical authors are referred to by their given names. But it makes no sense for an office worker.) I have no idea what the point of this is. He didn’t even try. I headcanon that Hifumi wrote it down on their DRB entry forms as “Doppo-chin”, Doppo saw it last minute, and barely had the time to change it or come up with anything better. Rating: 0 out of 10

Sasara - Tragic Comedy This is a nice little reference to Sasara’s backstory and his inner monologue. It’s cute, if a little ham-fisted. Rating: 7 out of 10

Roshou - Wisdom Ugggggh. This is the most math teacher thing I have ever heard. I can imagine no less than three of my coworkers trying to choose some variation of this name if we were tasked to give ourselves MC names. He lives on teacher Facebook. I just know it. Rating: C- out of 10

Rei - Mastermind I think this is too on-the-nose to be clever, but I do really like the in-universe implications of him very casually calling himself that in public. Just throwing out to the world that he can make Chuuouku do whatever he wants. That’s a power move, and I respect that. Rating: 9 out of 10

Kuukou - Evil Monk Like Gentarou’s, I can tell what they were going for, but they kind of missed the mark in English. Kuukou is sometimes called a “bad monk”, but I think that’s more because he’s bad at being a monk in some respects (like not swearing every five minutes). It’s appropriately stupid for him, though, and I love it. Rating: 10 out of 10

Juushi - 14th Moon Someone really likes the number 14, huh. Rating: 14 out of 100

Hitoya - Heaven & Hell This is literally his name. He stuck an “and” between his surname and his given name and called it a day. Are you kidding me? I know lawyers are too busy to waste a lot of time on shit, but come on. You did not even try. This is so lazy it doesn’t even deserve a rating.

#not a translation #asks