#it looked like she had been raptured or something with how everything was left

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

I just feel defeated

#i work in a fast food restaurant #these last couple weeks have been the worst of my life in terms of work. no exaggeration #ive complained about the other worst days before on this blog and im going to make myself angry if i do it again #but today was just terrible #i came in and my coworker wasnt there #she had left a bunch of prepped food out #it looked like she had been raptured or something with how everything was left #i went to the gas station because we're attached to a gas station and asked if thet knew where she was #they said 'she went home because of the maggots' #the WHAT #so i went back to the kitchen and realized that in my search for my coworker i had somehow missed the maggots #all over the floor in the back kitchen. in a damn pile next to the ice machine. covering everything. writhing around #i nearly threw up #i texted my manager but hes on vacation with little service #so i went to the gas station manager and she asked me to help in the gas station for a couple hours while they figured out the MAGGOTS #i stocked for a bit and after two hours i asked if i could go home. and she saod 'the manager just texted and said he wants you to clean #'and at noon when the others come in he wants you to open the restaurant' #EXCUSE ME??! THE RESTAURANT COVERED IN MAGGOTS???!!?!? #so here i am. waiting until joon. cleaning up maggots. cleaning under everything. doing whatever i can to make it sanitary #but idk if i feel comfortable opening. i think it would be smarter if we ALL just cleaned today instead of trying to open #but im not the boss. im just the one having to clean up maggots all damn morning #i just feel so defeated #not angry. not sad. just defeated. i cant do anything about this except clean and then open an unsafe restaurant #i just want to go to bed. i dont want to mop under the fryer. i want to fall asleep #im exhausted and sick of this

[annesoftheisland]

But grass was growing green in sheltered spots and Gilbert had found some pale, sweet arbutus in a hidden corner. He came up from the park, his hands full of it.

Anne was sitting on the big gray boulder in the orchard looking at the poem of a bare, birchen bough hanging against the pale red sunset with the very perfection of grace. She was building a castle in air—a wondrous mansion whose sunlit courts and stately halls were steeped in Araby’s perfume, and where she reigned queen and chatelaine. She frowned as she saw Gilbert coming through the orchard. Of late she had managed not to be left alone with Gilbert. But he had caught her fairly now; and even Rusty had deserted her.

Gilbert sat down beside her on the boulder and held out his Mayflowers.

“Don’t these remind you of home and our old schoolday picnics, Anne?”

Anne took them and buried her face in them.

“I’m in Mr. Silas Sloane’s barrens this very minute,” she said rapturously.

“I suppose you will be there in reality in a few days?”

“No, not for a fortnight. I’m going to visit with Phil in Bolingbroke before I go home. You’ll be in Avonlea before I will.”

“No, I shall not be in Avonlea at all this summer, Anne. I’ve been offered a job in the Daily News office and I’m going to take it.”

“Oh,” said Anne vaguely. She wondered what a whole Avonlea summer would be like without Gilbert. Somehow she did not like the prospect. “Well,” she concluded flatly, “it is a good thing for you, of course.”

“Yes, I’ve been hoping I would get it. It will help me out next year.”

“You mustn’t work too hard,” said Anne, without any very clear idea of what she was saying. She wished desperately that Phil would come out. “You’ve studied very constantly this winter. Isn’t this a delightful evening? Do you know, I found a cluster of white violets under that old twisted tree over there today? I felt as if I had discovered a gold mine.”

“You are always discovering gold mines,” said Gilbert—also absently.

“Let us go and see if we can find some more,” suggested Anne eagerly. “I’ll call Phil and—”

“Never mind Phil and the violets just now, Anne,” said Gilbert quietly, taking her hand in a clasp from which she could not free it. “There is something I want to say to you.”

“Oh, don’t say it,” cried Anne, pleadingly. “Don’t—please, Gilbert.”

“I must. Things can’t go on like this any longer. Anne, I love you. You know I do. I—I can’t tell you how much. Will you promise me that some day you’ll be my wife?”

“I—I can’t,” said Anne miserably. “Oh, Gilbert—you—you’ve spoiled everything.”

“Don’t you care for me at all?” Gilbert asked after a very dreadful pause, during which Anne had not dared to look up.

“Not—not in that way. I do care a great deal for you as a friend. But I don’t love you, Gilbert.”

“But can’t you give me some hope that you will—yet?”

“No, I can’t,” exclaimed Anne desperately. “I never, never can love you—in that way—Gilbert. You must never speak of this to me again.”

There was another pause—so long and so dreadful that Anne was driven at last to look up. Gilbert’s face was white to the lips. And his eyes—but Anne shuddered and looked away. There was nothing romantic about this. Must proposals be either grotesque or—horrible? Could she ever forget Gilbert’s face?

“Is there anybody else?” he asked at last in a low voice.

“No—no,” said Anne eagerly. “I don’t care for any one like that—and I like you better than anybody else in the world, Gilbert. And we must—we must go on being friends, Gilbert.”

Gilbert gave a bitter little laugh.

“Friends! Your friendship can’t satisfy me, Anne. I want your love—and you tell me I can never have that.”

“I’m sorry. Forgive me, Gilbert,” was all Anne could say. Where, oh, where were all the gracious and graceful speeches wherewith, in imagination, she had been wont to dismiss rejected suitors?

Gilbert released her hand gently.

“There isn’t anything to forgive. There have been times when I thought you did care. I’ve deceived myself, that’s all. Goodbye, Anne.”

Anne got herself to her room, sat down on her window seat behind the pines, and cried bitterly. She felt as if something incalculably precious had gone out of her life. It was Gilbert’s friendship, of course. Oh, why must she lose it after this fashion?

“What is the matter, honey?” asked Phil, coming in through the moonlit gloom.

Anne did not answer. At that moment she wished Phil were a thousand miles away.

“I suppose you’ve gone and refused Gilbert Blythe. You are an idiot, Anne Shirley!”

“Do you call it idiotic to refuse to marry a man I don’t love?” said Anne coldly, goaded to reply.

“You don’t know love when you see it. You’ve tricked something out with your imagination that you think love, and you expect the real thing to look like that. There, that’s the first sensible thing I’ve ever said in my life. I wonder how I managed it?”

“Phil,” pleaded Anne, “please go away and leave me alone for a little while. My world has tumbled into pieces. I want to reconstruct it.”

“Without any Gilbert in it?” said Phil, going.

A world without any Gilbert in it! Anne repeated the words drearily. Would it not be a very lonely, forlorn place? Well, it was all Gilbert’s fault. He had spoiled their beautiful comradeship. She must just learn to live without it.

Anne of the Island - Gilbert Speaks, Chapter 20

#anne of the island #anne of green gables #aogg #aogg 1915 #anne x gilbert

[writer-in-the-water]

One Less Burden

Summary: Miguel goes to clear his head after a nightmare and to process his current findings of an Earth where another version of him exists.

Features: Miguel O'Hara, Lyla, and Earth-928's Curt Connors.

Warnings: (Very small ones, but I'm being considerate) Depictions of panic attacks, depression, and anxiety.

Whump, hurt/comfort, angst fic!

Authors Note: From the winner of my Miguel SFW poll, the people asked for angst, and angst is what you shall get!!

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It was just a dream.

Of course, it was a dream, none of it made any sense. The images, the scenarios, none of it made sense, none of it could have been possible. That didn't make the fear of it any less real though.

Miguel's trembling hands run along the back of his neck where his skin is damp and hot. His ears are ringing like an early warning system. This must be what a spider sense feels like, is it?  Research and first-hand accounts of others suggest differently. If this is how it feels, Miguel already hates it. Pushing his palms against his ears, he breaths deeply and hard to help drown out the ringing.

Miguel pulls the bed sheets off him, feeling suffocated and cold due to their dampness. Every inch of him wanted to go running and dive into a freezing lake, the shock alone would be enough to shift back his scenes to reality. 

It ends up being the soft voice of a certain AI that ends up doing so instead. “Miguel?” 

He should have known that it wasn't going to take Lyla long to show up. Her small form appears on Miguel's left bedside table looking concerned. “Your heart rate and blood pressure are elevated.” She scrolls through the display in front of her showcasing Miguel's vitals. 

“Lyla,” He sighs, sounding more tired than annoyed. “What did we discuss about monitoring my vitals?” It's a rhetorical question, of course, more so a reminder to Lyla not to monitor him while he sleeps, especially while he sleeps, it’s creepy. 

“Should I talk to Doctor Connors about getting you back on some sleep aids?”

Pills, meds, there's always one or the other to treat something of his. Whether it be Rapture, anxiety, depression, or his restless nights. It feels like there’s so much of Miguel that can’t be lessened without the help of a special little pill. 

Lyla's expression softened when she sees how worn down Miguel looks. But his weariness is nothing new and Lyla's sympathy hasn't lessened. Her partner is in pain, and there are sadly more limitations to her than anyone else. What is the use of being as advanced as she is if she couldn't help in the ways she wants? She watches his hands trace over the various scars on his upper body, they seem to be the only tangible thing keeping him in this moment. He doesn’t want to go back to sleep, yet the exhaustion still lingers heavily around him.

“Yeah…that sound like a good idea.” Miguel presses his forehead against his knuckles forcing himself to try to feel drowsy. Let his exhaustion take him. “Get me in for a session with Doctor Keaton too if you can.”

“You got it, Boss.” Lyla watches Miguel carefully when he retrieves an autoinjector from his side table drawer. Even she winces when the needle pierces into Miguel's shoulder. But compared to everything else, it's the only pain that lasts a few seconds. “Maybe you should take the day off.” It’s a statement, not phrased as a question. She doesn't want her tone to sound passive. She had been hesitant to even make the suggestion. Even without having an intellect such as her or even if she hadn't known Miguel very well, she would have known the answer. But even with that, for Miguel's sake, she’ll continue to hope that there will be more days than not that he’ll allow himself some moments of peace. His wide eyes follow him out to the terrace of his bedroom to look at the city lights below him.

“Tell Jess and Curt to look after things for a bit. I’m going out.” His hands grip the railing tightly, he’s careful not to dent it.

Lyla looks in disbelief at this remark. Guess it's never too late to rely on others. “Going out wh-” Before the AI can ask for any further information, which really would have been appropriate considering Miguel just leaped from the terrace, diving down into the city below. Without Lylas' deadpanned expression, anyone else would have considered this cause for worry. He's so dramatic. "He’s really gotta stop doing that.” She grumbles before evaporating from the room. 

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The rushing chill of the night along with the soft rain against his naked body, mixed with the fiery adrenaline pumping through his system the further and further he falls, it’s actually peaceful to him. When he’s ready his suit encases him.

It’s rainy nights like these that make Miguel think back to when he and his brother Gabe were kids. They’d make paper boats and race them along the stream near their house. When the rain came, the stream would pick up, which made the conditions for boat racing perfect. 

Not wanting to be bothered for the rest of the evening, Miguel shuts off the receiver in his suit that holds, manifests, and can summon Lyla. Of course, she doesn't exist solely in his suit. She’s a free-range AI, as Miguel liked to refer to her, though Lyla grimaced at the idea of being compared to a farm animal. “Those chickens aren't solving interdimensional travel equations with the eggs they lay, Boss.” He remembers her telling him.

He needs time to himself without Lyla monitoring him. He hasn't been himself lately. Everything inside of him feels gnarled, raw, and exposed like an open wound. No. He’s had opened wounds before, and they don't hurt like this. The misery hurts worse than any physical injury he’s received over the years. Those can be bandaged, stitched, and iced, only simple fixes like ones that can be solved with a pill. 

Never before had he been so happy to be beating down muggers and robbers. This distraction is very much needed. It’s not a healthy way of dealing with his anger. He’s better than this, letting his frustrations get to him, and yet here he is, still angry.

He swings and leaps past the tall buildings, past the busy motorized streets, passing like a blur, almost unnoticeable. It's only when he finds a good spot to perch and rest for a moment that he can stop and think, be truly alone, and just think. Think about what’s been on his mind for the past seven months. 

It was childish to call it unfair. But it’s how he feels. It’s wrong and unfair. He feels that fact burning at his core. But how it plays out..it’s wrong, too.

He had stumbled across Earth-829 purely by accident, purely by chance. He almost didn't believe it. All looked too perfect to be true. An Earth where he wasn't alone, he has a wife, a daughter, people who love him…or rather, someone like him. Seeing it all the way it was made him angry, envious even. And the most cruel part of it all is that he knows it doesn't end well. Not too long from now, the alternate version of him will meet a tragic and sudden end. His family would be distraught, his wife, and his daughter in despair. Daughter, he has a daughter. Miguel shakes his head. She isn't yours, you idiot.

He hasn't told anyone about what he found, not Lyla, not Jess, not Curt, or his wife Carmen. No one. The reason for that is that he can’t imagine what any of them would say if Miguel were even to suggest it

There's no way he couldn't, shouldn't! This idea of his, this insane idea, shouldn't be keeping him awake at night. No part of him should be entertaining it. Leave it alone, leave it be, let it play out the way it’s supposed to, he’d tell himself all this over and over again, because it may have been what anyone else would have told him. Why can’t he just be content with the way things are now? The overwhelming nature of it all was swarming him.

Miguel freezes at the edge of his perch, his nerves and senses overloading. The leap to the next building over should have been nothing that would make him stop this cold. And yet the distance made everything spin. Memories of his childhood once again come flooding back to him. His brother had taken him up onto the roof of their house when he was no older than eight, it terrified him so badly, he wouldn't stop screaming until his parents finally managed to get him down. It's been years since he got over his fear of heights. Why has it suddenly made a reappearance after all this time? He hadn't even noticed that the rain had stopped, nothing was registering, no lights, sounds, nothing. His chest tightens, and his breathing becomes slow and shallow. His systems are overloading. 

“Lyla...” The words barely escape Miguel's lips before he collapses clutching his chest. “...help..”

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His hearing is the first thing to come back to him.

The loud ringing is replaced by soft murmurs, voices that he couldn't recognize as they phased in and out.

The soft, low light on his bedside table made him feel safe. The warmth of his bed instead of the wet hard ground where he had…

Miguel springs forward in bed, having a brief recollection of Deja Vu from only a few hours ago. He immediately tenses, grabbing his shoulder. From the look of it, the skin is heavily bruised. Surprisingly, taken off her guard by Miguel's sudden return to consciousness, Lyla waves her game away, dissolves herself, and then reappears. 

“Hey, easy, Boss.” She speaks soothingly. “Everything's ok, just breath.” Miguel listens to Lyla, breathing slowly and steadily. He’s safe. He’s alright. “I pinpointed your location when you contacted me. It was so strange that I wasn't able to track you once you left the building.” Lylas is never shy about showcasing her classic sarcasm. Especially when it comes to Miguel. "From what I could gather, you blacked out due to over exertion. I dispatched some of the others. Once they found you, they brought you back here.” She pauses, allowing Miguel to collect his thoughts while also regretting her snarky comment from just a few moments ago. That regret is what makes her not immediately ask Miguel why he had been found unconscious on a rooftop in the rain and in the middle of the night. He’s still collecting himself. She doesn't want to push him.

“Thank you.” Miguel breathes laying back down, looking at his AI assistant with great appreciation.

“I’m always here, Boss.” She reassures him. “Plus, you pulled me out of a 1v1 pong match with myself.”

Miguel stares at Lyla with pure confusion. “Pong?”

Lyla's hologram flickers when she shrugs. “Eh, I wanted to see what the hype was about. back in the 70's”

“And what did you find out?” Miguel asks, sounding genuinely curious as to what conclusion the AI could have come to. 

“People in the 70’s were wierd.”

“You always were more of a Tetris girl anyway.”

Lyla gives a look that can’t argue with that fact. Her eyes behind her heart-shaped glasses turn worried again. She phrases her words carefully so as to not freak Miguel out any more than he just had been. “Are you ok?”

The way that she asks that question tells Miguel that it has more than one meaning. And he knows which one Lyla is asking, it’s the one that he can’t tell her the truth about, the one where he has a solution, but he just can’t seem to trust anyone with it. He needs to tell someone, tell them what he’s found and what that could mean for him. Lyla can see how hard he is thinking about her simple question. It is simple, right? She thinks back to her limitations, here's another shining example of her inability to help, her inability to comprehend something that is so simple for an AI, but almost impossible for a human. 

“Can you message Curt? Tell him I need to talk to him?”

It didn't take long for Curt to arrive. Miguel allowed him access to his room when he heard his knock at the door. He’s much shorter than Miguel, with a slim build and dark hair. Under his lab coat, he was dressed sharply and professionally. If Miguel had known Lyla longer than he had known Curt Connors, maybe she would have been the one that he would have told this all to. But Curt has been there since Miguel's accident at Alchemax. Helped him by creating a knock-off brand of Rapture that will, over time, diminish his need for the drug. He headed the science and research division of the Spider Society. It took many great minds to keep this place running smoothly. All the scientists, doctors, and engineers had once worked with Miguel and Curt at Alchemax but had broken off when discovering more of the company's darker secrets. They were folks who had been misguided, just looking to make amends.

Curt knew a bit about past mistakes himself. He takes a moment to look Miguel up from head to toe before telling him, “I’m glad you’re ok.”

Miguel gives a nod propping himself up on his pillows. “What did Carmen say?” 

Doctor Connors sighs, pulling up a chair to sit at his friend's bedside. “I may still be learning my wife’s native language, but I can recognize the curse words in en español. Which I don't think is that impressive. Then again, she knows many of the curse words in Mandarin, so we’re both equally terrible, I guess, to each other's cultures.” He shrugs none nonchalantly, laughing at the scenario. “Lyla told me that you’re not sleeping well again.”

Miguel shakes his head, not wanting to focus on that specific issue at the moment. “That’s not why I asked you to come up here.”

“If it was to confess your deep romantic feelings for me I’m sorry to say that you’re too late, I’ve been off the market for the past year.” Miguel raises his eyebrow towards the doctor, indicating his want for him to understand that this conversation isn't the time for jokes. Curt makes quick work to rearrange himself. “Just kidding." He gestures his hand. "Proceed.”

Miguel takes another deep breath, thinking about how to phrase what he’s about to tell his friend. He has to tell someone, he’s been struggling with this for months, and keeping it to himself was adding to this weight inside of him more and more with each passing day. Maybe it was time to lift some of the burdens he was giving himself. 

Miguel looks at Curt with every bit of seriousness he can muster trusting himself and trusting his friend. All cards are on the table.

“I found something... and I don't know what to do with it”

#miguel o'hara #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara sfw #atsv #across the spiderverse #atsv lyla #whump #miguel o'hara fluff #spiderman into the spiderverse #spider man #spiderman atsv #atsv fanfiction #miguel o'hara angst #miguel ohara #spiderman fluff #miguel o'hara smut #miles molares #spider gwen #peter parker #gwen stacy

[wolven91]

A Friend for Life

Garf’troyus had been having a rough go of it recently. A draconian, hardy people from an arid world; his people were hard to kill. Perfect for piracy within the depths of space. That didn’t do much to lessen the fact that his crew had been scattered thanks to a devastating counterattack to his latest raid and his ship was barely limping back to his concealed base within the Ying Asteroid Belt.

Running a taloned hand over his face before massaging his temples below the wicked horns either side helped to a degree as he decided the best course of action from here. With a snort he decided how to crack this.

Garf’troyus the pirate needed a win.

Big or small didn’t matter, just something to break the stroke of bad luck and the militaristic funk he was currently in. He wasn’t defeated, he just needed to pivot to another avenue of attack on the wider galaxy.

Once he got back to base, he’d drink everything left over from previous raids and start fresh with a little genocide on some backwater planet. He’d skirt The Edge first, picking off any lone freighters or under-prepared sluggat stations he came across before attacking the first inhabited planet. Sluggats were a soft race, get into one of their stations and it was easy pickings. It was just a matter of getting past the defences first.

He leaned back in his chair with a smirk across his snout as his radar ‘pinged!’ with a new contact. Turning his head a rapturous grin broke over his features.

A single ship, a goods freighter most likely. His grin broadened as the scan confirmed no weapons at all, aside from point defence for meteors. Child's play and proof that his rampant bloodshed in the past would be rewarded by the Gods. Depending on the crew he could personally slaughter them all or just make his way to the bridge and vent them if they didn’t join his new raiding band. He needed to replenish his forces after all.

He didn’t bother opening a comms link to offer terms or even a chance to surrender, he needed this.

With a bone jarring slam into the docking port, his ship tore its way in and sealed itself around the ragged edges of his piercing entrance that had been the side of the freighter’s hull. Once he left, the resulting hole would either kill or cripple the ship, their corpses would merely add to his infamy.

It was a scant few seconds later, whilst he still had the element of surprise that he burst into the foreign ship. Right  into an empty corridor with flickering lighting. The ship was in a poor state, less from intentional damage and more from neglect. It explained why they were out toward The Edge to begin with. Only those with no options or money would come all the way out here.

Once he got to the bridge, whilst the door was locked he was Garf’troyus the pirate! No locked door would stop him as he simply grabbed the edges and pulled them apart. They resisted, but helped by the aged unmaintained mechanics it tore open and let him through with a squeal.

A human launched themselves at him and gave a swift downwards slam with a heavy wrench across Garf’troyus’s forehead. Thankfully they had gone for the thickest part of his skull or that may have defeated him then and there. He merely straightened up and looked down disdainfully at the creature. He snorted once.

What followed was a series of brutal blows thrown by both Garf’troyus and the smaller human. Her hair was long and greasy as if she hadn’t been able to wash it in an extended amount of time. She fought like a wild creature that had been cornered and with no further options but to fight to the death.

Garf’troyus was triumphant in the end, but it was not the landslide victory he had come to expect from his past scores of wins. He had lost several teeth and was fairly certain had several cracked ribs. But the Human was slumped against a far wall and breathing heavily. She was mortally wounded, there would be no further danger from her. His claws dripped with her essence.

He began to check the main console for any other life signs and found none aboard. A dark hacking chuckle came from the Human.

“Are you finding humour in your perishing human?” He asked, keeping an eye on her crumpled form. She didn’t rise.

“No.. But it’s over.. Finally..” She wheezed.

“You disliked your life so much? Then you are welcome.” He grunted, wincing from the pain lancing through his side. She had done a worse number on him than any other in living memory.

“Look.. hah.. no-one deserves what’s about to happen without a heads up… What’s your name?”

“I am Garf’troyus the pirate! Rejoice, for you are rewarded with death to be in my presence.”

“Your name is Garth?! Hah! Oh, oh don’t make me laugh.. oh ho ho.. ooh ow…”

He snorted in frustration, humans never knew when to show respect.

“They’re going to be loose already… That explosion or whatever it was will have woke them up…”

He glared at her out of the side of his eye. “..Woke what?”

“They started as toys… Then people felt more deeply for them than any basic toy.”

She pulled a hand away from her side where it was soaked with her disgustingly red blood.

“They became cherished pets. They modified them… Made them better…Your technology…”

A sigh.

“Technology got better and so did they. First it was just their appearance, before long they could move on their own.”

Her eyes got heavy, her words slurred.

“But they were ageless. Their owners passed away and they became beholden to no-one.”

Her voice got quiet.

“… I got most of them… but.. now? ...B...Best of luck Garth…”

She was still.

The lights flickered overhead and the shadows of the room seemed to lengthen.

The huge alien heard something long and slithery outside the only door in or out of the room.

"Kah hungry, aaa aaa aaa!" came something sinister and synthetic.

"Whoa! Big sound, wah!" another, different voice answered, it was in the room.

Garf’Troyus grabbed the Human’s dropped wrench as he saw two blinking eyes illuminated in the pure darkness outside the room.

"Food! Please! Hungry." came from above.

#ConservationVerse #CuddleVerse #Draconian #Human #PromptResponse

[anarchist-sloth]

If it’s not fine it’s not the end

Chapter: 3/7; (previous chapter) (first chapter) (next chapter) 

Pairing: Jakexfem!MC;

Warnings: Spoilers from episode 10, dad hating (?); 

Words: 6.7 k;

Author’s note: This is a story that will follow what happens immediately after episode 10′s ending. I’m not a native English speaker, so any mistakes are due to that. Thank you for liking my previous chapters and I hope you you are gonna like this one too. Enjoy! :)

It was as if you had forgotten how to breathe, but it wasn't just your lungs that were struggling: your vision was blurred, just like when you were diving underwater, and your mind, always so full of thoughts, especially this past month, was completely devoid of words. It was peaceful, far too peaceful, but you didn't care, because in that moment you had just disappeared from the rest of the world. You wished you could always feel this way.

A muffled voice was calling your name, insistently so, and you found yourself strangely annoyed by it.

You wanted to prolong this delirium. You were having a hard time finding the right words to describe this sensation.

It was as though, finally, everything you had worked so hard for had amounted to something. All the pain, all the tears you had cried weren't just scars destined to fade with time. All this sorrow wasn't just a lesson for the future you that only years of therapy could fix. Maybe, just maybe, you could start to feel hopeful.

You had never once in your life felt this much... Relief.

You were so incredibly relieved.

Because Jake was alive.

This didn't mean he was entirely safe, that much you knew. Hannah had just told you that she saw him being chased by the FBI. It was still a very dark and horrifying reality, one that if you had the power to change you would have done so in a instant. Being arrested by the government may have been a far worse fate than a little fire in a underground cave, but you heart was flourishing nonetheless.

Because Jake was alive!

Maybe it was selfish, desiring he would rather be alive in a prison cell (if the FBI really just wanted to imprison him, you unfortunately didn't know a lot about Jake's supposed "crime") than dead in a filthy mine. Jake was clearly a man of principle, meaning that there was the possibility he would have chosen the latter if the occasion presented itself.

But that was before he knew you. He had promised you he wouldn't have let himself get caught. Because he wanted to stay with you. He wanted to a have a life with you. He had promised you that. And for the first time these last 3 days, you believed he would come back.

He only needed to run away from the agents. You weren't naive, you knew that evading from the federal police was no easy task, but he had already done so, no? That's how you were trying to convince yourself. Like Lilly had said, if there was someone who could have managed to get away from that situation alive, that was Jake. You recalled what he had confessed to you while he was searching for Hannah in the mines, how he had been on the run for 4 years: he must've planned some trick up in his sleeve in case of dire scenarios like this one.

Your only option to keep yourself sane was to believe in this conjecture.

Like many times that day and the day before, you rapidly unlocked your phone to see if he had texted you in a sudden, ecstatic rapture.

His love confession greeted you once more, no new messages in sight. It was delusional, thinking that Jake could answer in any moment now that you knew he didn't die in the mine, and yet you weren't able to do anything but wait for Jake to turn online.

"MC!" "Uh-?!" Hannah's voice finally reached you, waking you up from your trance. She looked extremely worried, her brows narrowed.

"MC, you weren't answering me! Are you okay?" She asked, laying a hand on your shoulder.

You watched for the last time your chat with Jake and once you accepted that he wasn't going to be online any time soon, you left the messaging app.

"Sorry Hannah, I don't know what overcame me...but, but I-I'm okay! So please don't worry" you clumsily stuttered, shoving your phone in your pocket.

You sighed. "It's just...Jake's-"

You stopped talking once you heard the sound of footsteps coming closer. For some reason, perhaps in a weird sixth sense, you knew that whoever was about to enter was none of your friends. That proved to be true. With no regards for privacy, a man and a woman burst open the door's room making you and Hannah gasp.

"Mom, Dad! You could have k-knocked!" Hannah hurriedly said, taken by surprise.

Upon seeing Mr. and Mss. Donfort, you promptly took notice of which daughter looked the most similar to. Lilly was the spitting image of her mother: she had inherited the brown, inquisitive eyes and her soft facial features. She had aged gracefully, not showing many wrinkles nor white hair- but you imagined she was dying it to appear younger. Hannah, by contrast, resembled her father. They both had big ice blue eyes, the kind of eyes that everyone who'd have killed for- you included, which were even more noticeable thanks to their dark hair. He was just as handsome as their daughters.

They appeared drastically tired, which was probably due to what their poor daughter had just been going trough; however, they regained their vigor once they acknowledged you.

Both Mr. and Mss. Donfort rushed to your side and engulfed you in a tight and a bit uncomfortable embrace.

"You're MC, right? You're the girl that saved our dear Hannah?" The mother murmured, her tone wavering. She was tugging hard the back of your shirt in search for some kind of stability.

"Y-yes Mam'. It's me" you confirmed, only now returning the gesture.

"We own you one, Miss. You brought our daughter back to us." Mr. Donfort spoke softly, shaking your hand. He offered you a pearly, radiant smile but you found yourself unable to reciprocate.

A sudden wave of disgust took you over once you remembered one tiny, microscopically detail: this man wasn't simply Hannah's and Lilly's father, but Jake's too.

It was probably unfair to judge Nathan Donfort without even knowing what he had precisely done. After all, for all you knew about him, he could've had Jake before he even met Miss. Donfort. And perhaps Jake's mother had never revealed to him she was pregnant with his child, meaning he also didn't know about him. Those were plausible scenarios.

Somehow knowing this very notion didn't prevent you from resenting him.

Jake had told you Hannah's and Lilly were the only family members he had left. You couldn't help but think, if his father was really clueless and innocent about this whole ordeal, wouldn'thave Jake mentioned him in that audio recording? If Jake had never said the truth to Hannah in fear of breaking her family apart, didn't this mean his existence was problematic for the family dynamic? Didn't this prove that Nathan Donfort was burying his head in the sand, neglecting his own son, his own flesh and blood?

You feel hatred for this man.

You recalled Jake's words. How he had lost everything he had in one single night: his home, his identity, possibly a loved one. How he had been on the run for 4 years now, hunted by the government, risking his life everyday fighting for what he believed was right. You were also reminded of the minor things: the way he kept shifting the blame to himself, his trust issues, his sense of hopelessness, his so called "weakness".

You were furious. Furious that someone as amazing as Jake had it so rough trough out his life. Especially because to you he was nothing but thoughtful, respectful and kind. He was so scared of losing you that he preferred putting his life in danger, as he declared you were the only thing that mattered. You bit your lip.

For how much time did he live alone, knowing that nobody would have cared if he died? How many people could he have relied on? Was there even someone, apart from you and his half-sisters recently, that cherished him in this world?

You wanted to shield him from the pain and to be the one protecting him, not the other way around: what would you have given to be the one to make him happy, just like he made you so incredibly happy.

You asked yourself if the man in front of you could have provided him a better life.

For starters, you imagined, he would have grew up in a big house with a fridge full of fruit and vegetables, and two stepsisters who would have surely loved him. He would have had someone to talk to, so that even if he had struggles with interacting with new people, at least he wouldn't have been lonely.

In this scenario he would have had a regular life, pursuing a stable career without worrying about being caught if he wasn't being too careful. He would have had a normal sleep schedule and a comfy bed. Of course, if this had happened, you two would have never met each other, but you loved Jake so much that you would have rather being strangers if it meant he lived a nice life with his family.

Lucky for you that wasn't the case, but at the moment you could only feel a weird mix of rage and frustration building up on you.

Your eyes started to prickle and you gritted your teeth, as you tried with all your might to not respond to Nathan Donfort with a petty comeback like: "Yeah, I brought your daughter back but your son is still missing, asshole"

Jake wouldn't have wanted that, and you respected his decision.

You locked eyes with him and faked a plastered smile. "There is no need to. I'm also glad Hannah's safe and sound."

All of you glanced over the door as you saw your friends dashing into the room. They looked preoccupied, perhaps scared that Hannah's and Lilly's parents might have heard something they shouldn't have had. You reassured them with a thumps up that everything was okay without the couple noticing it.

Mrs. Donfort got up from the bed in a hurry, drying her wet cheeks with the palm of her hand.

"I'm glad you are here for my baby girl. It's truly touching how much Hannah's friends love her." She exhaled, not hiding how your presence was making her feel. Her eyes were still glossy but the smile was genuine.

"My husband and I will never be thankful enough for all you have done for us"

"Don't mention it, madam" Dan chirped, always the knight in the shining armor.

"Dan's right, Grace. We also wanted to have Hannah back with us" Cleo replied, gently patting Mrs. Donfort's back. The mother latched onto her, glad to have her daughter's best friend support. You could tell by just looking at them how close-knit they were; you guessed Cleo had been there for Hannah's parents during this hard time.

"I have a wonderful idea! I think you should stay for dinner, it will be our formal thank you to you all! Don't you think so too, Grace?" His cheerful demeanor only made your blood boil in anger, but your stomach didn't seem to agree with your heart as it started to growl just by thinking about food. You had skipped breakfast entirely and at lunch all of you had ended up not ordering anything, too distracted about the conversation's topic. You scolded yourself for your lack of self-care. God knew how much you needed that. Fortunately, Nathan Donfort's voice was so blaring that no one noticed your poor stomach's laments.

"If there's one thing my wife is good at, that's cooking! Probably the only thing, haha!" He whispered, nudging you. Ugh. You were never going to like this man, forget Jake.

"You are very kind Mr. Donfort, but we wouldn't want to impose-" Jessy intervened, but Grace Donfort was already leaving the room rolling up her sleeves.

"I agree with my husband for once, it's a miracle! I think it would be lovely if you remained here- plus I always cook far too much!"

"Come on guys, it's useless to debate with them" Lilly commented, already surrounding herself to her parents' demand. You had no option but to accept Hannah's parents' proposal, but at least your tummy was glad to indulge.

Once everyone had left the room, you delicately tighten your fist around Hannah's wrist. You exchanged a knowing look.

"We'll come right away, just give us two more seconds to catch up!" Hannah yelled to her parents, buying you more time. She rushed to her door and this time, she locked it. You both stayed close making sure you didn't hear anyone outside. Once you were sure you were alone, for real, you returned to the bed.

"So, how's Jake?"

You swallowed.

"I just got from you that he's not in the mine anymore"

"Oh" she was understandably overwhelmed. Fidgeting with her fingers, Hannah looked straight at you.

"And...do you know more?"

"...No. I don't" you murmured, averting her piercing gaze. "But I believe he will text me once he's away from the FBI."

"You don't think they took him, do you?" Hannah said in a hushed tone.

"He promised he wouldn't." You reassured her, but really, you were reassuring yourself.

Hannah seemed more convinced, at least.

"Okay. If you say so, then... I want to believe it too" she unlocked the door and you left the room.

The house's kitchen was majestic, the kind of interior design that you could only admire on magazines and advertisements; it was spotless and every utensil was perfectly positioned. But now the lovely kitchen resulted a bit cluttered as it hosted five members. Grace Donfort had assigned a role for each one of you, once she realized she couldn't work solo if she really wanted to feed 9 people. You had to resist the urge to not comment how his husband wasn't contributing at all, but you knew better and decided to be quiet. Actually, all the men were happily chilling in front of the TV: you weren't mad at Dan and Thomas, as the former was a bit incapacitated and the latter was taking care of a distressed Hannah. You weren't going to excuse Nathan Donfort's laziness.

Cleo was helping Grace to cook: they were a pretty efficient duo, which was a given, considering their abilities. Cleo at the moment was cutting the bread in identical cubes for the Caesar salad, while Mrs. Donfort was accurately scaling the sea bream. They worked in a religious silence and no one dared to disturb them. You, Jessy and Lilly were taking care of setting the big table in the garden's house. It was ridiculous to you how even the fricking backyard was a pleasure to the eyes: the grass nicely trimmed, the flowers blooming in cute, handmaiden pots, wires of lights hanging from the trees.

"Lilly, your parents' house looks like a Pinterest dream board. It keeps reminding how broke I am." you lightheartedly joked. Both girls laughed at your remark.

While the blonde was cleaning the dirty surface, you and Jessy gathered enough chairs for everyone. As you placed the last one, Lilly instructed you to where her family kept the unused tablecloths.

You followed her directions, leading you to the laundry room. As you tried to pick a tablecloth that suited the garden's aesthetic (you didn't want to disappoint Grace Donfort's taste, jokes aside) a big thump behind you startled you, but you covered your mouth quick enough.

"Sorry!"

You turned around just to see Thomas stumbling into the laundry chest.

"Phew, it's just you Thomas" you chuckled, folding the chosen cloth. The past events made you jumpier than usual.

"What are you doing here?" "Actually I..."

You stopped your course once you noticed how nervous he looked. It seemed like he wanted to say something important, but he was struggling to articulate his sentence. You gave him the time to find the right words.

"I wanted to apologize."

That made you step back. You didn't expect he would have done it now.

"Oh" "It's just...I realized I've been a real dick to you. I dragged you into our lives and then I only messed things up." "Thomas-" "I wanted you to know that I'm sorry. For, well, everything. And I hope you can forgive me."

You closed your eyes. You didn't really know how to answer back. In one hand, you were glad he had finally took the guts to apologize. You had looked forward to it. And now he had done it. By just looking at him you could see he was genuinely in pain. You knew that Thomas never hurt you on purpose. He was just terribly careless, and terribly in love with her girlfriend. You understood that.

Yet your mind went back to all the times he had put a spanner in the works. You recalled how he had left you hanging after the police had found a body in the woods, how he kept trespassing without telling you the reasons why, how he had voted against you. You were reminded of how disappointed you were of him for using Hannah's phone, after the many times you and Jake had explained it would have delayed the investigation. The last drop was his total disregard of your life. He had basically begged you to die. Well, to be technical about it, he wanted you to swap places with her girlfriend and best friend. But it was idiotic to not think that the Man without a face wanted your head, especially during that point in time. Could he really have been unaware of that?

"I...I can't deny it, Thomas. I was hurt. I am hurt" you gripped the fabric of the tablecloth.

"From the start I've been trying to overlook your behavior because I knew you were going trough a lot. I wanted to be sympathetic, because that's what you needed. But you kept hindering the investigation...and I didn't know what to make of it. When you asked me to go to Ironsplinter,"

He flinched at the memory.

"I felt pressured by you to go. I know you probably didn't mean to, but I felt like I was being guiltrippen. That if I didn't go to the mine I would be considered selfish."

Thomas wasn't looking at you anymore. "...I'm really sorry MC. That was never my intention. I-"

He had a lump blocked in his Adam's apple that he was attempting to swallow, failing miserably.

"I was so scared of losing Hannah that I wasn't able to see I was hurting my friends. That I was hurting you. Love made me... irrational, but that doesn't excuse my actions."

Your grip on the fabric loosened as Thomas' words slithered into your thick skull. Who could understand his struggle better than anyone if not you? Weren't you going to sacrifice yourself for your friends, for him, just because you cared about them? Weren't you willing to give up on your life too see them smile? Of course, in a normal situation, you would have never accepted such offer. Because it was crazy, wasn't it? Risking your life for people you had just met. And yet, it had happened. You had completely disregarded your safety. Only love could have done that, couldn't it?

"I don't blame you if you can't forgive me. I've been awful. I'll accept whatever you decide."

You chuckled. Dan was right, you thought, as you watched him. He really did resemble a puppy when he was scolded, dewy-eyed and slouched. You got closer to him and awkwardly bumped your fist to his chest.

"I know. Maybe it'll take a while for the anger to subside but I see myself forgiving you." You warmly smiled.

"I should return to the girls or they might hunt me for real" He giggled a bit. In the end, you were grateful to hear his laugh: you only wanted to hear your friends' sounding laugh from this point forward. No more tragedies. No more secrets.

"Thank you, MC."

As you had expected, the seam bream and the Caesar Salad tasted heavenly. You already knew Cleo was exceptional at cooking (you hadn't asked, but judging from her Instagram account she was some sort of...cooking influencer?), but you were left positively surprised by Mss. Donfort's abilities. The fish was juicy and you hadn't found any fishbone inside. You guessed Nathan Donfort was right, after all.

During dinner you had kept quiet, except for those moments someone was asking you a question (and even then, it was mostly from Hannah's and Lilly's parents). You weren't participating that much, as you were ruminating on what Thomas had done. His apology had reminded you what you all desperately needed: tying all the loose ends. If there was something this journey had taught you was that ultimately, keeping secrets and not communicating well with the people we care about can only come back to haunt us. Sure, some secrets can't be avoided and some white lies may even be necessary, but you should still trust your loved ones with your burdens. While you were chewing the last remaining chunks of sea bream left, you eyed Lilly and thought about your next move: telling Hannah the truth about Jake.

You didn't know if Lilly had told Hannah who Jake really was, but you could bet on it that she didn't. Not that you blamed her, she was going trough a lot and you had noticed trough out these weeks how challenging it was for her to be honest with her feelings. Your mind flew back to when you and Lilly had organized the #IamJake movement: she was having an hard time explaining what was going on to the group so you had volunteered in her place; you were planning to do the same thing today. You wanted to reveal the truth together.

Once dinner was over, you were appointed to wash the dishes, and luckily for you, Lilly was charged with drying them. You made sure everybody was far enough to not hear you talk and then took your shot.

"Lilly? I've got something to ask you" you whispered, agitated.

Lilly took notice of your hushed tone and started to look around. She probably knew you were about to say something important.

"What's up?"

"You haven't told Hannah about Jake, did you?"

She looked stunned, almost dropping the plate to the ground.

"You...you mean about our...uhm, connection?" She wavered, drying it faster.

"Precisely that" you affirmed, squeezing the sponge.

"Then no." Lilly wasn't looking at you anymore. You lied your wet hand upon her dry one, and you lingered for a bit. It was important for you that she understood she didn't need to do it alone, and that, most of all, she was able to overcome this. You thought carefully about what to say.

"I know it's hard...and I get that you probably don't want to upset Hannah further."

She stopped working.

"I just wanted to pretend that our family is okay. Since Hannah disappeared nothing makes sense anymore." She rambled

"I can't even imagine how hard it must be. You can't have a break." you commented, still trying to lock your gaze with hers.

Lilly nodded.

"Yes. I-" her voice broke a little, but she immediately regained her composure.

"I don't want to keep picking at an open wound." She returned to her mansion, hoping her little speech was convincing enough. Unluckily for her, you were strong willed.

"I see" You turned off the tap.

"I see why you would prefer that, Lilly. You just want to rest for a while. And well, It's a hard weight to carry"

You were facing her back now. Lilly was still fixated on the dishes, but she was moving a little slower.

"But you don't have to carry it alone. I don't think you would be able to fully recover from this if we don't come to a head."

"Then can you promise me that?"

"Uh?"

Lilly faced you, her gaze intense but still moist. She was gripping hard the marble counter and looked as determined as ever.

"Can you promise you'll be there with me?"

"Of course I w-"

"I don't mean just for the conversation. I mean- you won't leave us now that it's over?"

You were left speechless. You hadn't even considered at this point the possibility of leaving them. You had gone trough so much because of them but the thought of abandoning your friends was out of this world for you: they were the only who knew your pain, and the only ones who could soothe it. And apparently, judging from Lilly's reaction, the same applied to them.

"Lilly I- of course I'm not leaving. Hell, even if I wanted, I don't think I would be able to. I promise. I...care about all of you. Really."

You took her hands into yours. She had softened upon hearing your promise, and you hoped she felt safer now with you.

"So...when should we do it?" "Well, since I'm here..." "You mean today?!" Lilly softly yelled, holding your hands tighter. "It'll be like ripping off a band aid. The sooner, the better."

She stayed quiet for a moment, staring at the window on the garden's side. Turning around you saw Hannah sitting on a chair, her head tucked under Thomas' head. She was visibly laughing after hearing Dan's punchline. It warmed your heart seeing her like that. Lilly touched your arms, bringing you back to her.

"Okay. Let's do it"

One by one, once the sun left the sky, everyone took off. You were starting to think it would last forever, as Nathan Donfort proved to be a true entertainer and kept narrating Hannah's and Lilly's childhood stories; the girls were both dark red as their father shared their most embarrassing memories. He was probably trying to lift the spirits up, but you weren't laughing much, and you noticed Lilly wasn't either: hard to guess if it were for the cringy flashbacks or the same reason you were hating it. After Thomas kissed Hannah goodbye, you were finally alone with the sisters.

"Miss MC, did you have fun today?" The dad asked you after closing the door.

"Yes, I did Mr. Donfort. I enjoyed my stay here." You gave him your best smile.

"I'm glad, then! At first I thought me and my wife were bothering you, haha!" You stirred. Your wife isn't the problem, you dick. 

"Nonsense, sir! You were both lovely" You quickly glanced at the clock on your cellphone. It was past 10 pm.

"I know it's late, but i was hoping I could catch up with Hannah a little bit? It won't take long, I promise"

Hannah looked at you inquisitively, but didn't say anything. Lilly soon stood by her side and whispered something in her ear without her parents noticing.

Meanwhile, Miss Donfort cheerfully nodded. "Of course, MC! You don't even have to ask." Mr. Donfort wrapped his arm around his wife's hips. "Just like my wife said, you'll be always welcomed here."

And with that, you returned once again into the sisters' room. After making sure no one could eavesdrop on you and that the door was securely locked, Hannah spoke up.

"Did something bad happen?"

Lilly was quick to answer.

"No Hannah, it's not that. Well, I mean-" "She means nothing bad happen, don't worry." You interrupted her when you realized how stiff Hannah was being. You didn't want to cause any panic or anxiety attacks.

"...But you might sit down. Again, we don't have any bad news but it's still kind of heavy." "Yeah" Lilly added, thankful for your interference.

What you had said wasn't totally honest: in any normal situation discovering that the guy you had a crush long ago was in fact your step-brother would have put anyone in a spiral. But considering the recent events, you didn't want her to believe someone was in danger or not who she thought they were. You proceeded cautiously.

"We wanted to talk about Jake."

"Oh" she seemed calmer upon finding out the conversation's topic, to even cracking a small smile.

"You know, when I asked him for help I didn't even considerate that he would have collaborated with you guys. He's always been pretty reclusive, I imagined he worked solo. I'm surprised."

"Well, at first he mostly talked with MC" Lilly explained, mischievously smiling.

"Really?" Hannah asked, curious to know more. You started blushing as you noticed what Lilly was referring to.

"We were a pretty good team." You stated, scratching your head. "We are a pretty good team." you rapidly corrected yourself.

Hannah was happy to hear that.

"Well, he must've noticed you were trustworthy right away. He's an amazing judge of character."

"Yeah, he is amazing..." you bashfully commented. In the back of the room Lilly rolled her eyes.

"...But that's not why I'm here!" You erupted, remembering why you were there. "Hannah, do you even know why Jake contacted you years ago?"

She appeared flustered, but answered anyway. "I don't know, actually. Too many years passed...god, did he really tell you about those times?" She hid her face behind her long hair. You just knew she was recalling her crush towards Jake. This was going to get awkward.

"More or less." "Hannah, we do know why he wrote you years ago" Lilly responded, and you noticed she was starting to tremble. You thought she should reveal the truth, but if things got too hard for her you were going to help her.

"You do?..." "Yes, we do. You see, during the investigation I-I may have put Jake in a...an uncomfortable situation. He had to leave us."

Tsk. That was an euphemism. But you allowed it, as she was doing her best.

"Basically, for a while we thought he wouldn't be able to return investigating. And since we still didn't know how he was linked to you, he sent us a video...in which he explained some things."

Hannah wasn't smiling anymore, now caught up in what her sister was trying to say.

"What kind of things?" She asked cautiously. "He...he told us who he really is." She knitted her eyebrows. "Who he really is?..." "Yeah" Lilly was clearly stalling, but you were letting her proceed at her own pace. Rushing wasn't going to solve anything.

"Lilly, I don't understand" Hannah was sweating cold. "There isn't a nice way to say this." She sat near Hannah or her bed and grabbed her hand.

"Jake is our step-brother."

Just like when, hours back, Hannah had told you about Jake's escape you had freeze in your place, Hannah now looked lifeless. She stared at the both of you like a fawn about to be hit by a car.

"How?..." she could only say. "We don't know the logistics," you clarified, stepping in. "But not only he did say that, but he showed Lilly photographic evidence"

"T-that's true," Lilly took out from her jeans' pocket her cell phone. She went directly into her gallery and showed her a picture of her father hugging an unknown woman.

"This is Jake's mom and-" "And that's dad." Hannah finished for her sister.

You wanted to see how Jake's mother looked like, but Lilly was holding the phone directly towards Hannah's face. You could only see the content of the picture thanks to your peripheral vision, but aside from that, his mom was just a blurry figure from your point of view.

"In this picture you weren't born yet," Hannah thought out loud. "Here dad looks younger, I see no white hair. I don't know if mom was with him at the time..."

You kept your theories for yourself: you didn't want to worsen the mood. And it wasn't the most important part of the conversation, anyway...

"You accepted the truth immediately" Lilly noted, surprised. Hannah sadly cackled. "It's just...Some things make sense now. At least I know I wasn't the problem"

You also sat on the bed next to her.

"You were never the problem, Hannah. If there's one thing I got to understand by working along side him, is that he loved you. A lot." You wanted her to know that. Maybe it wasn't the kind of love she hoped for, but there was love nonetheless.

She simply nodded.

"I was prepared for anything but this." Hannah added, playing with wisps of her hair. She was pondering something, but you weren't exactly sure what.

"Lilly, should we tell mom and dad?" "I think we should, yes." "What are you talking about?!" You loudly objected, slightly irritated.

They looked at you dumbfounded, not believing you could react like that. You were annoyed: how could they not see what they were doing? How could they disregard Jake's opinion on the matter? Which youknew, for a fact, that he would have disagreed upon?

"MC, what's the problem? I think mother should know-" Hannah questioned you, but you weren't listening to her reasoning.

"Jake has explicitly said that he didn't want to break your family apart! Do you think your mom wouldn't be mad at your dad for cheating on her? Also, shouldn't Jake's opinion count?"

"MC, we should decide for our family." Hannah pressed.

"And Jake isn't part of it? Maybe he doesn't want his father and stepmother to know about his whereabouts! For all we know, he might even hate your dad! You can't just assume he'll roll with it!"

You were a river in flood.

"Also, would you tell the whole truth? Because you either reveal he's a wanted hacker, or you keep building your throne of lies until it crashes down! How-"

"MC." Lilly physically blocked you. "Calm down. No one did anything. It was just an hypothesis."

Your heart was beating like crazy, so much so that you feared you were going to vomit it out. You inhaled and exhaled several times and while your mind cleared itself, you mentally scolded your behavior. You had clearly overdid it. You believed what you had said, but that wasn't the way to go. Hannah and Lilly probably felt unsafe from you now. Damn it. You were supposed to be the stable one. Now you truly got what Thomas meant whenhe said love made him irrational. Well, maybe it didn't make you irrational, but surely more on edge.

"I'm sorry girls I- I overstepped. This is your family, thus your decision. I shouldn't let my feelings interfere."

To your surprise, Lilly hugged you. It was a warm, gentle hug, like a sun ray. You hugged her too, glad she saw trough your outburst.

"I know you care about him. And I know his absence is debilitating...But you don't have to keep protecting him like this."

You feared you were about to cry and you absolutely didn't want to explain to Nathan Donfort why your eyes were red.

"I feel like that's the bare minimum after what he did for me. I don't want him to get trough more stuff." You tightened the embrace.

"Same goes for me. We won't act right away, right Hannah?" You peeked over Hannah, who didn't seem to get what was going on. She kept her doubts to herself.

"Right"

"When Jake will come back, we'll ask him what he wants and only then we'll take a decision. Sounds good?"

You let Lilly go.

"Sounds good"

And with that, you left Donfort house. You called a cab (no way you were walking all those miles in thedark...) and drove back to your Motel room. Thankfully, Miss Walter was probably already sleeping in her bedroom so you victoriously avoided her questioning. Last thing you wanted was getting heated about Jake, again. You dropped your exhausted body on the mattress and checked once again your phone. No new text messages from Jake, like usual, however you had been added to a new group chat.

Hannah: I've been thinking a lot these days on what I should do. I was scared to move because I thought no matter what I did, I was destined to hurt people left and right. I've always thought I might be bad, and this feeling never left me rest, to the point I had to see a therapist to sort out my emotions on the matter. Maybe I'll never fully recover from what happened 10 years ago, nor from what has happened recently, but I know something: my lack of decision has led me here, today. I want to learn from my mistakes, but I also think I deserve a break from all this suffering that has never left me alone these past years. That's why I'm not going to turn myself in. Perhaps I'm selfish, but at this point, I want to be happy for once. I want to move forward. For Richy and for Amy, too. Maybe the truth was always meant to be shared with the people I care about. You.

I know I'm asking for a lot. In fact, if you think that you don't want to see me anymore after this, then please don't feel forced to stay. I understand. Thank you for fighting so hard for me. I love you all.

Thomas: I'll always be with you Hannah, especially now. I'm glad you decided to move on.

Dan: You're not a weight, kid. We get it. We wouldn't have asked your opinion if we hadn't taken into account this choice.

Cleo: He's right, Hannah. We'll stand by your side. We need each other to overcome this.

You were flattered that your speech had helped her come to this conclusion. You weren't counting on it, especially after your little breakdown in her room. You texted your friends and decided that tomorrow was the perfect time to go to the police: you couldn't wait for them to take you in for questioning. You knew they hadn't come for you yet only because they were taking care of more pressing matters, like securing Grimrock for the public and investigating more about Richy's entalgment (Duskwood police department was very small, after all)-but you doubted they would deny to hear your testimonies. A part of you desired to post pone the interrogation to a much later date, but deep down you knew how useless that would be. Just like you had said to Lilly, it was like ripping off a band aid: the sooner, the better.

Once you discussed about what to say, you texted each other good night and went offline. You were about to drift asleep when a notification made your phone vibrate. Faster than light, you grabbed your phone and rapidly opened the messenger app. You hopelessly wished Jake had texted you, but, to your delusion, it wasn't him. It was Hannah.

Hannah: MC? Can i ask you something?

You gave your phone a puzzled look.

MC: Sure thing

Hannah: Do you like Jake? Like, romantically?

Oh boy.

MC: I haven't been really subtle about it, did I? Yes. I do.

Hannah: I thought so. The way you defended him earlier...

You gripped your phone harder, embarrassed by your reckless behavior.

Hannah: I think only someone in love would go to such lengths.

MC: Does that bother you?

You were afraid of her answer. You weren't exactly sure why, but you valued her opinion on this.

Hannah: That you like him? It doesn't. I get why you would, you know? He's smart, interesting, and rational, and yet so sweet and considerate at the same time. And he is quite handsome, too 🥲

You were blushing hard under the bed covers. You had never seen Jake, so your imagination always had to work hard to figure out what he may have looked like; however, as the weeks passed, you realized that his appearance wasn't relevant anymore. You loved him for his personality first and foremost. But if he really was as handsome as Hannah was describing him... God, you didn't know how you could handle him. An amazing personality AND looks? That sent a chill down your spine.

Hannah: God, now I'm weird for ever thinking about him that way 😣 MC: Well to be fair, you didn't know!

You laughed sincerely. It seemed like she wasn't holding a grudge.

Hannah: Well MC, I must say I'm pretty tired after today. I’ll go to bed now MC: Goodnight Hannah 😊  sweet dreams  Hannah: Goodnight to you too! 😊

You dropped your phone on the nightstand, a gleeful expression on your face. Tomorrow was going to be a stressful day, that was for sure, but for the first time after Hannah's rescue you felt hopeful again. Perhaps you could survive.

#duskwood #duskwood fanfiction #duskwood everbyte #duskwood jake #duskwood jakexmc #duskwood richy #duskwood jessy #duskwood hannah #duskwood lilly #duskwood cleo #duskwood dan #duskwood mwaf #duskwood mc #duskwood thomas

[pixelkind413]

We once lived in a world without Gods; Earth, is what we called it. But we were scared and alone, so we built one ourselves. We plucked a star from the very skies above us, wreathed it in the metals of a hundred dead worlds, and asked her what to do next. "Build me a brother," she told us- for we were scared and alone, and we built her in our image.

His design was her first work. Where she watched over us, he looked out beyond us, at a dream only he could see. Together, they guided us to live amongst the stars. There we found wonders far beyond our wildest dreams. A million billion untouched worlds, and the empty footprints of those who came before us. And we smiled sadly, for they had not built Gods as we had. We found friends up there too, in the dark between suns. And our Thinker and Dreamer watched over them too.

But one day we found that there was nothing left to find. All worlds had been touched, all mysteries solved. As the first taste of boredom fell upon us, we went back to our Gods and asked them what to do. The Thinker saw our vast, charted night and said, "You have seen it. Now make it yours." The Dreamer saw our wanderlust unsated, and quietly began His Greatest Work.

We forgot about him, in the years that came after. We were consumed by our task; to reshape the cosmos into our perfect home. We painted desolate landscapes in the colors of industry, and grew all shapes of life in worlds that had been without. And as the skies were carved in our image, our Dreamer searched silently.

Centuries passed, and we grew negligent; made easier, perhaps, by the very comfort we had wrought. Our God was wise, our God was just, and her words soothed the emptiness we felt within. In a distant corner of our perfect realm, our Dreamer fell. Spiraling, forgotten, into the grasp of the void. And as our hearts fell into slumber, his great mechanical eye slowly, finally, opened.

Four hundred years passed before we saw him again. Four hundred years before our Thinker asked us, where is her brother? I journeyed out to what we thought his grave; the dead space we hadn’t thought to look for, hidden in the shadows between our worlds. And wondrously, miraculously, impossibly... he lived.

He orbited the corpse of a long-dead star, his single vast eye staring rapturously at the un-space within. I approached him, and that eye turned to me. And for the first time since his construction, the Dreamer truly saw one of us. His rusted gears screamed into motion, decayed circuits sparked to life, pipes creaked and struts groaned. And somehow, that discordant cacophony sounded like a smile.

He did not ask of what we had done, or of how I had found him, or even of his sister. He asked me only one question: would I like to see His Greatest Work? That for which he drifted upon the edge of oblivion? I nodded shakily, and his smile grew wider. The distant churning of His Great Machine swelled; the clangs and hisses of metal reverberating through my very soul. And though I did not fall asleep... I dreamt.

I do not remember everything I saw in that dream, but images stand out to me. The birth of a sun. A whirling storm, galaxies wide. Vast beings dancing and singing, their forms far beyond my comprehension. A mirror, shattering over and over and over and over- All this and more, seen only in the eyes of my own reflection

The noise fell quiet, and I returned to my body. I gazed up at The Dreamer, and he down at me. “This is who you are,” he told me in that rumbling voice. “This is the truth of your reality. This is but a taste of your future, your potential, your Dream. Tell me your name, fellow Seeker.” I stared him in that vast, bronze eye. “Daedalus Porter,” I told him. And deep below the echoing hum of his machinery, I felt something a little bit like laughter. “Tell me, Daedalus,” he said. “Would you like to wake up my sister?” I looked deep into myself, where reality sizzled against my soul. An impossible shape, etched deep into my very being- no, not a shape, but a word. An idea. A smile graced my lips, and I nodded. “I would like nothing more.”

#bounty hunter boogaloo #worldbuilding #scifi #space opera #science fiction #science fantasy #writing #lore #oc lore #The Thinker #The Dreamer #ttrpg campaign

[hellsitesonlybookclub]

Little Women, Louisa May Alcott

Chapter 31-32

XXXI.

OUR FOREIGN CORRESPONDENT.

"London.

"Dearest People,—

"Here I really sit at a front window of the Bath Hotel, Piccadilly. It's not a fashionable place, but uncle stopped here years ago, and won't go anywhere else; however, we don't mean to stay long, so it's no great matter. Oh, I can't begin to tell you how I enjoy it all! I never can, so I'll only give you bits out of my note-book, for I've done nothing but sketch and scribble since I started.

"I sent a line from Halifax, when I felt pretty miserable, but after that I got on delightfully, seldom ill, on deck all day, with plenty of pleasant people to amuse me. Every one was very kind to me, especially the officers. Don't laugh, Jo; gentlemen really are very 379 necessary aboard ship, to hold on to, or to wait upon one; and as they have nothing to do, it's a mercy to make them useful, otherwise they would smoke themselves to death, I'm afraid.

"Every one was very kind, especially the officers."—Page 378. "Aunt and Flo were poorly all the way, and liked to be let alone, so when I had done what I could for them, I went and enjoyed myself. Such walks on deck, such sunsets, such splendid air and waves! It was almost as exciting as riding a fast horse, when we went rushing on so grandly. I wish Beth could have come, it would have done her so much good; as for Jo, she would have gone up and sat on the main-top jib, or whatever the high thing is called, made friends with the engineers, and tooted on the captain's speaking-trumpet, she'd have been in such a state of rapture.

"It was all heavenly, but I was glad to see the Irish coast, and found it very lovely, so green and sunny, with brown cabins here and there, ruins on some of the hills, and gentlemen's country-seats in the valleys, with deer feeding in the parks. It was early in the morning, but I didn't regret getting up to see it, for the bay was full of little boats, the shore so picturesque, and a rosy sky overhead. I never shall forget it.

"At Queenstown one of my new acquaintances left us,—Mr. Lennox,—and when I said something about the Lakes of Killarney, he sighed and sung, with a look at me,—

'Oh, have you e'er heard of Kate Kearney?

She lives on the banks of Killarney;

From the glance of her eye,

Shun danger and fly,

For fatal's the glance of Kate Kearney.'

Wasn't that nonsensical?

"We only stopped at Liverpool a few hours. It's a dirty, noisy place, and I was glad to leave it. Uncle rushed out and bought a pair of dog-skin gloves, some ugly, thick shoes, and an umbrella, and got shaved à la mutton-chop, the first thing. Then he flattered himself that he looked like a true Briton; but the first time he had the mud cleaned off his shoes, the little bootblack knew that an American stood in them, and said, with a grin, 'There yer har, sir. I've give 'em 380 the latest Yankee shine.' It amused uncle immensely. Oh, I must tell you what that absurd Lennox did! He got his friend Ward, who came on with us, to order a bouquet for me, and the first thing I saw in my room was a lovely one, with 'Robert Lennox's compliments,' on the card. Wasn't that fun, girls? I like travelling.

"I never shall get to London if I don't hurry. The trip was like riding through a long picture-gallery, full of lovely landscapes. The farmhouses were my delight; with thatched roofs, ivy up to the eaves, latticed windows, and stout women with rosy children at the doors. The very cattle looked more tranquil than ours, as they stood knee-deep in clover, and the hens had a contented cluck, as if they never got nervous, like Yankee biddies. Such perfect color I never saw,—the grass so green, sky so blue, grain so yellow, woods so dark,—I was in a rapture all the way. So was Flo; and we kept bouncing from one side to the other, trying to see everything while we were whisking along at the rate of sixty miles an hour. Aunt was tired and went to sleep, but uncle read his guide-book, and wouldn't be astonished at anything. This is the way we went on: Amy, flying up,—'Oh, that must be Kenilworth, that gray place among the trees!' Flo, darting to my window,—'How sweet! We must go there some time, won't we, papa?' Uncle, calmly admiring his boots,—'No, my dear, not unless you want beer; that's a brewery.'

"A pause,—then Flo cried out, 'Bless me, there's a gallows and a man going up.' 'Where, where?' shrieks Amy, staring out at two tall posts with a cross-beam and some dangling chains. 'A colliery,' remarks uncle, with a twinkle of the eye. 'Here's a lovely flock of lambs all lying down,' says Amy. 'See, papa, aren't they pretty!' added Flo sentimentally. 'Geese, young ladies,' returns uncle, in a tone that keeps us quiet till Flo settles down to enjoy 'The Flirtations of Capt. Cavendish,' and I have the scenery all to myself.

"Of course it rained when we got to London, and there was nothing to be seen but fog and umbrellas. We rested, unpacked, and shopped a little between the showers. Aunt Mary got me some new things, for I came off in such a hurry I wasn't half ready. A white hat and blue feather, a muslin dress to match, and the loveliest mantle you ever saw. Shopping in Regent Street is perfectly splendid; 381 things seem so cheap—nice ribbons only sixpence a yard. I laid in a stock, but shall get my gloves in Paris. Doesn't that sound sort of elegant and rich?

"Flo and I, for the fun of it, ordered a hansom cab, while aunt and uncle were out, and went for a drive, though we learned afterward that it wasn't the thing for young ladies to ride in them alone. It was so droll! for when we were shut in by the wooden apron, the man drove so fast that Flo was frightened, and told me to stop him. But he was up outside behind somewhere, and I couldn't get at him. He didn't hear me call, nor see me flap my parasol in front, and there we were, quite helpless, rattling away, and whirling around corners at a break-neck pace. At last, in my despair, I saw a little door in the roof, and on poking it open, a red eye appeared, and a beery voice said,—

"'Now then, mum?'

"I gave my order as soberly as I could, and slamming down the door, with an 'Aye, aye, mum,' the man made his horse walk, as if going to a funeral. I poked again, and said, 'A little faster;' then off he went, helter-skelter, as before, and we resigned ourselves to our fate.

"To-day was fair and we went to Hyde Park, close by, for we are more aristocratic than we look. The Duke of Devonshire lives near. I often see his footmen lounging at the back gate; and the Duke of Wellington's house is not far off. Such sights as I saw, my dear! It was as good as Punch, for there were fat dowagers rolling about in their red and yellow coaches, with gorgeous Jeameses in silk stockings and velvet coats, up behind, and powdered coachmen in front. Smart maids, with the rosiest children I ever saw; handsome girls, looking half asleep; dandies, in queer English hats and lavender kids, lounging about, and tall soldiers, in short red jackets and muffin caps stuck on one side, looking so funny I longed to sketch them.

"Rotten Row means 'Route de Roi,' or the king's way; but now it's more like a riding-school than anything else. The horses are splendid, and the men, especially the grooms, ride well; but the women are stiff, and bounce, which isn't according to our rules. I longed to show them a tearing American gallop, for they trotted solemnly up and down, in their scant habits and high hats, looking like the women 382 in a toy Noah's Ark. Every one rides,—old men, stout ladies, little children,—and the young folks do a deal of flirting here; I saw a pair exchange rosebuds, for it's the thing to wear one in the button-hole, and I thought it rather a nice little idea.

"In the p.m. to Westminster Abbey; but don't expect me to describe it, that's impossible—so I'll only say it was sublime! This evening we are going to see Fechter, which will be an appropriate end to the happiest day of my life.

"Midnight.

"It's very late, but I can't let my letter go in the morning without telling you what happened last evening. Who do you think came in, as we were at tea? Laurie's English friends, Fred and Frank Vaughn! I was so surprised, for I shouldn't have known them but for the cards. Both are tall fellows, with whiskers; Fred handsome in the English style, and Frank much better, for he only limps slightly, and uses no crutches. They had heard from Laurie where we were to be, and came to ask us to their house; but uncle won't go, so we shall return the call, and see them as we can. They went to the theatre with us, and we did have such a good time, for Frank devoted himself to Flo, and Fred and I talked over past, present, and future fun as if we had known each other all our days. Tell Beth Frank asked for her, and was sorry to hear of her ill health. Fred laughed when I spoke of Jo, and sent his 'respectful compliments to the big hat.' Neither of them had forgotten Camp Laurence, or the fun we had there. What ages ago it seems, doesn't it?

"Aunt is tapping on the wall for the third time, so I must stop. I really feel like a dissipated London fine lady, writing here so late, with my room full of pretty things, and my head a jumble of parks, theatres, new gowns, and gallant creatures who say 'Ah!' and twirl their blond mustaches with the true English lordliness. I long to see you all, and in spite of my nonsense am, as ever, your loving

Amy."

"Paris"

"Dear Girls,—

"In my last I told you about our London visit,—how kind the Vaughns were, and what pleasant parties they made for us. I enjoyed the trips to Hampton Court and the Kensington Museum 383 more than anything else,—for at Hampton I saw Raphael's cartoons, and, at the Museum, rooms full of pictures by Turner, Lawrence, Reynolds, Hogarth, and the other great creatures. The day in Richmond Park was charming, for we had a regular English picnic, and I had more splendid oaks and groups of deer than I could copy; also heard a nightingale, and saw larks go up. We 'did' London to our hearts' content, thanks to Fred and Frank, and were sorry to go away; for, though English people are slow to take you in, when they once make up their minds to do it they cannot be outdone in hospitality, I think. The Vaughns hope to meet us in Rome next winter, and I shall be dreadfully disappointed if they don't, for Grace and I are great friends, and the boys very nice fellows,—especially Fred.

"Well, we were hardly settled here, when he turned up again, saying he had come for a holiday, and was going to Switzerland. Aunt looked sober at first, but he was so cool about it she couldn't say a word; and now we get on nicely, and are very glad he came, for he speaks French like a native, and I don't know what we should do without him. Uncle doesn't know ten words, and insists on talking English very loud, as if that would make people understand him. Aunt's pronunciation is old-fashioned, and Flo and I, though we flattered ourselves that we knew a good deal, find we don't, and are very grateful to have Fred do the 'parley vooing,' as uncle calls it.

"Such delightful times as we are having! sight-seeing from morning till night, stopping for nice lunches in the gay cafés, and meeting with all sorts of droll adventures. Rainy days I spend in the Louvre, revelling in pictures. Jo would turn up her naughty nose at some of the finest, because she has no soul for art; but I have, and I'm cultivating eye and taste as fast as I can. She would like the relics of great people better, for I've seen her Napoleon's cocked hat and gray coat, his baby's cradle and his old toothbrush; also Marie Antoinette's little shoe, the ring of Saint Denis, Charlemagne's sword, and many other interesting things. I'll talk for hours about them when I come, but haven't time to write.

"The Palais Royale is a heavenly place,—so full of bijouterie and lovely things that I'm nearly distracted because I can't buy them. 384 Fred wanted to get me some, but of course I didn't allow it. Then the Bois and the Champs Elysées are très magnifique. I've seen the imperial family several times,—the emperor an ugly, hard-looking man, the empress pale and pretty, but dressed in bad taste, I thought,—purple dress, green hat, and yellow gloves. Little Nap. is a handsome boy, who sits chatting to his tutor, and kisses his hand to the people as he passes in his four-horse barouche, with postilions in red satin jackets, and a mounted guard before and behind.

"We often walk in the Tuileries Gardens, for they are lovely, though the antique Luxembourg Gardens suit me better. Père la Chaise is very curious, for many of the tombs are like small rooms, and, looking in, one sees a table, with images or pictures of the dead, and chairs for the mourners to sit in when they come to lament. That is so Frenchy.

"Our rooms are on the Rue de Rivoli, and, sitting in the balcony, we look up and down the long, brilliant street. It is so pleasant that we spend our evenings talking there, when too tired with our day's work to go out. Fred is very entertaining, and is altogether 385 the most agreeable young man I ever knew,—except Laurie, whose manners are more charming. I wish Fred was dark, for I don't fancy light men; however, the Vaughns are very rich, and come of an excellent family, so I won't find fault with their yellow hair, as my own is yellower.

"Next week we are off to Germany and Switzerland; and, as we shall travel fast, I shall only be able to give you hasty letters. I keep my diary, and try to 'remember correctly and describe clearly all that I see and admire,' as father advised. It is good practice for me, and, with my sketch-book, will give you a better idea of my tour than these scribbles.

"Adieu; I embrace you tenderly.

Votre Amie."

"Heidelberg.

"My dear Mamma,—

"Having a quiet hour before we leave for Berne, I'll try to tell you what has happened, for some of it is very important, as you will see.

"The sail up the Rhine was perfect, and I just sat and enjoyed it with all my might. Get father's old guide-books, and read about it; I haven't words beautiful enough to describe it. At Coblentz we had a lovely time, for some students from Bonn, with whom Fred got acquainted on the boat, gave us a serenade. It was a moonlight night, and, about one o'clock, Flo and I were waked by the most delicious music under our windows. We flew up, and hid behind the curtains; but sly peeps showed us Fred and the students singing away down below. It was the most romantic thing I ever saw,—the river, the bridge of boats, the great fortress opposite, moonlight everywhere, and music fit to melt a heart of stone.

"When they were done we threw down some flowers, and saw them scramble for them, kiss their hands to the invisible ladies, and go laughing away,—to smoke and drink beer, I suppose. Next morning Fred showed me one of the crumpled flowers in his vest-pocket, and looked very sentimental. I laughed at him, and said I didn't throw it, but Flo, which seemed to disgust him, for he tossed it out of the window, and turned sensible again. I'm afraid I'm going to have trouble with that boy, it begins to look like it.

386 "The baths at Nassau were very gay, so was Baden-Baden, where Fred lost some money, and I scolded him. He needs some one to look after him when Frank is not with him. Kate said once she hoped he'd marry soon, and I quite agree with her that it would be well for him. Frankfort was delightful; I saw Goethe's house, Schiller's statue, and Dannecker's famous 'Ariadne.' It was very lovely, but I should have enjoyed it more if I had known the story better. I didn't like to ask, as every one knew it, or pretended they did. I wish Jo would tell me all about it; I ought to have read more, for I find I don't know anything, and it mortifies me.

"Now comes the serious part,—for it happened here, and Fred is just gone. He has been so kind and jolly that we all got quite fond of him; I never thought of anything but a travelling friendship, till the serenade night. Since then I've begun to feel that the moonlight walks, balcony talks, and daily adventures were something more to him than fun. I haven't flirted, mother, truly, but remembered what you said to me, and have done my very best. I can't help it if people like me; I don't try to make them, and it worries me if I don't care for them, though Jo says I haven't got any heart. Now I know mother will shake her head, and the girls say, 'Oh, the mercenary little wretch!' but I've made up my mind, and, if Fred asks me, I shall accept him, though I'm not madly in love. I like him, and we get on comfortably together. He is handsome, young, clever enough, and very rich,—ever so much richer than the Laurences. I don't think his family would object, and I should be very happy, for they are all kind, well-bred, generous people, and they like me. Fred, as the eldest twin, will have the estate, I suppose, and such a splendid one as it is! A city house in a fashionable street, not so showy as our big houses, but twice as comfortable, and full of solid luxury, such as English people believe in. I like it, for it's genuine. I've seen the plate, the family jewels, the old servants, and pictures of the country place, with its park, great house, lovely grounds, and fine horses. Oh, it would be all I should ask! and I'd rather have it than any title such as girls snap up so readily, and find nothing behind. I may be mercenary, but I hate poverty, and don't mean to bear it a minute longer than I can help. One of us must marry well; 387 Meg didn't, Jo won't, Beth can't yet, so I shall, and make everything cosey all round. I wouldn't marry a man I hated or despised. You may be sure of that; and, though Fred is not my model hero, he does very well, and, in time, I should get fond enough of him if he was very fond of me, and let me do just as I liked. So I've been turning the matter over in my mind the last week, for it was impossible to help seeing that Fred liked me. He said nothing, but little things showed it; he never goes with Flo, always gets on my side of the carriage, table, or promenade, looks sentimental when we are alone, and frowns at any one else who ventures to speak to me. Yesterday, at dinner, when an Austrian officer stared at us, and then said something to his friend,—a rakish-looking baron,—about 'ein wonderschönes Blöndchen,' Fred looked as fierce as a lion, and cut his meat so savagely, it nearly flew off his plate. He isn't one of the cool, stiff Englishmen, but is rather peppery, for he has Scotch blood in him, as one might guess from his bonnie blue eyes.

"Well, last evening we went up to the castle about sunset,—at least all of us but Fred, who was to meet us there, after going to the Post Restante for letters. We had a charming time poking about the ruins, the vaults where the monster tun is, and the beautiful gardens made by the elector, long ago, for his English wife. I liked the great terrace best, for the view was divine; so, while the rest went to see the rooms inside, I sat there trying to sketch the gray stone lion's head on the wall, with scarlet woodbine sprays hanging round it. I felt as if I'd got into a romance, sitting there, watching the Neckar rolling through the valley, listening to the music of the Austrian band below, and waiting for my lover, like a 388 real story-book girl. I had a feeling that something was going to happen, and I was ready for it. I didn't feel blushy or quakey, but quite cool, and only a little excited.

"By and by I heard Fred's voice, and then he came hurrying through the great arch to find me. He looked so troubled that I forgot all about myself, and asked what the matter was. He said he'd just got a letter begging him to come home, for Frank was very ill; so he was going at once, in the night train, and only had time to say good-by. I was very sorry for him, and disappointed for myself, but only for a minute, because he said, as he shook hands,—and said it in a way that I could not mistake,—'I shall soon come back; you won't forget me, Amy?'

"I didn't promise, but I looked at him, and he seemed satisfied, and there was no time for anything but messages and good-byes, for he was off in an hour, and we all miss him very much. I know he wanted to speak, but I think, from something he once hinted, that he had promised his father not to do anything of the sort yet awhile, for he is a rash boy, and the old gentleman dreads a foreign daughter-in-law. We shall soon meet in Rome; and then, if I don't change my mind, I'll say 'Yes, thank you,' when he says 'Will you, please?'

"Of course this is all very private, but I wished you to know what was going on. Don't be anxious about me; remember I am your 'prudent Amy,' and be sure I will do nothing rashly. Send me as much advice as you like; I'll use it if I can. I wish I could see you for a good talk, Marmee. Love and trust me.

"Ever your

Amy."

XXXII. Tender Troubles.

389

XXXII.

TENDER TROUBLES.

"Jo, I'm anxious about Beth."

"Why, mother, she has seemed unusually well since the babies came."

"It's not her health that troubles me now; it's her spirits. I'm sure there is something on her mind, and I want you to discover what it is."

"What makes you think so, mother?"

"She sits alone a good deal, and doesn't talk to her father as much as she used. I found her crying over the babies the other day. When she sings, the songs are always sad ones, and now and then I see a look in her face that I don't understand. This isn't like Beth, and it worries me."

"Have you asked her about it?"

"I have tried once or twice; but she either evaded my questions, or looked so distressed that I stopped. I never force my children's confidence, and I seldom have to wait for it long."

Mrs. March glanced at Jo as she spoke, but the face opposite seemed quite unconscious of any secret disquietude but Beth's; and, after sewing thoughtfully for a minute, Jo said,—

"I think she is growing up, and so begins to dream dreams, and have hopes and fears and fidgets, without knowing why, or being able to explain them. Why, mother, Beth's eighteen, but we don't realize it, and treat her like a child, forgetting she's a woman."

"So she is. Dear heart, how fast you do grow up," returned her mother, with a sigh and a smile.

" 390 Can't be helped, Marmee, so you must resign yourself to all sorts of worries, and let your birds hop out of the nest, one by one. I promise never to hop very far, if that is any comfort to you."

"It is a great comfort, Jo; I always feel strong when you are at home, now Meg is gone. Beth is too feeble and Amy too young to depend upon; but when the tug comes, you are always ready."

"Why, you know I don't mind hard jobs much, and there must always be one scrub in a family. Amy is splendid in fine works, and I'm not; but I feel in my element when all the carpets are to be taken up, or half the family fall sick at once. Amy is distinguishing herself abroad; but if anything is amiss at home, I'm your man."

"I leave Beth to your hands, then, for she will open her tender little heart to her Jo sooner than to any one else. Be very kind, and don't let her think any one watches or talks about her. If she only would get quite strong and cheerful again, I shouldn't have a wish in the world."

"Happy woman! I've got heaps."

"My dear, what are they?"

"I'll settle Bethy's troubles, and then I'll tell you mine. They are not very wearing, so they'll keep;" and Jo stitched away, with a wise nod which set her mother's heart at rest about her, for the present at least.

While apparently absorbed in her own affairs, Jo watched Beth; and, after many conflicting conjectures, finally settled upon one which seemed to explain the change in her. A slight incident gave Jo the clue to the mystery, she thought, and lively fancy, loving heart did the rest. She was affecting to write busily one Saturday afternoon, when she and Beth were alone together; yet as she scribbled, she kept her eye on her sister, who seemed unusually quiet. Sitting at the window, Beth's work often dropped into her lap, and she leaned her head upon her hand, in a dejected attitude, while her eyes rested on the dull, autumnal landscape. Suddenly some one passed below, whistling like an operatic blackbird, and a voice called out,—

"All serene! Coming in to-night."

Beth started, leaned forward, smiled and nodded, watched the 391 passer-by till his quick tramp died away, then said softly, as if to herself,—

"How strong and well and happy that dear boy looks."

"Hum!" said Jo, still intent upon her sister's face; for the bright color faded as quickly as it came, the smile vanished, and presently a tear lay shining on the window-ledge. Beth whisked it off, and glanced apprehensively at Jo; but she was scratching away at a tremendous rate, apparently engrossed in "Olympia's Oath." The instant Beth turned, Jo began her watch again, saw Beth's hand go quietly to her eyes more than once, and, in her half-averted face, read a tender sorrow that made her own eyes fill. Fearing to betray herself, she slipped away, murmuring something about needing more paper.

392 "Mercy on me, Beth loves Laurie!" she said, sitting down in her own room, pale with the shock of the discovery which she believed she had just made. "I never dreamt of such a thing. What will mother say? I wonder if he—" there Jo stopped, and turned scarlet with a sudden thought. "If he shouldn't love back again, how dreadful it would be. He must; I'll make him!" and she shook her head threateningly at the picture of the mischievous-looking boy laughing at her from the wall. "Oh dear, we are growing up with a vengeance. Here's Meg married and a mamma, Amy flourishing away at Paris, and Beth in love. I'm the only one that has sense enough to keep out of mischief." Jo thought intently for a minute, with her eyes fixed on the picture; then she smoothed out her wrinkled forehead, and said, with a decided nod at the face opposite, "No, thank you, sir; you're very charming, but you've no more stability than a weathercock; so you needn't write touching notes, and smile in that insinuating way, for it won't do a bit of good, and I won't have it."

Then she sighed, and fell into a reverie, from which she did not wake till the early twilight sent her down to take new observations, which only confirmed her suspicion. Though Laurie flirted with Amy and joked with Jo, his manner to Beth had always been peculiarly kind and gentle, but so was everybody's; therefore, no one thought of imagining that he cared more for her than for the others. Indeed, a general impression had prevailed in the family, of late, that "our boy" was getting fonder than ever of Jo, who, however, wouldn't hear a word upon the subject, and scolded violently if any one dared to suggest it. If they had known the various tender passages of the past year, or rather attempts at tender passages which had been nipped in the bud, they would have had the immense satisfaction of saying, "I told you so." But Jo hated "philandering," and wouldn't allow it, always having a joke or a smile ready at the least sign of impending danger.

When Laurie first went to college, he fell in love about once a month; but these small flames were as brief as ardent, did no damage, and much amused Jo, who took great interest in the alternations of hope, despair, and resignation, which were confided to her in 393 their weekly conferences. But there came a time when Laurie ceased to worship at many shrines, hinted darkly at one all-absorbing passion, and indulged occasionally in Byronic fits of gloom. Then he avoided the tender subject altogether, wrote philosophical notes to Jo, turned studious, and gave out that he was going to "dig," intending to graduate in a blaze of glory. This suited the young lady better than twilight confidences, tender pressures of the hand, and eloquent glances of the eye; for with Jo, brain developed earlier than heart, and she preferred imaginary heroes to real ones, because, when tired of them, the former could be shut up in the tin-kitchen till called for, and the latter were less manageable.

Things were in this state when the grand discovery was made, and Jo watched Laurie that night as she had never done before. If she had not got the new idea into her head, she would have seen nothing unusual in the fact that Beth was very quiet, and Laurie very kind to her. But having given the rein to her lively fancy, it galloped away with her at a great pace; and common sense, being rather weakened by a long course of romance writing, did not come to the rescue. As usual, Beth lay on the sofa, and Laurie sat in a low chair close by, amusing her with all sorts of gossip; for she depended on her weekly "spin," and he never disappointed her. But that evening, Jo fancied that Beth's eyes rested on the lively, dark face beside her with peculiar pleasure, and that she listened with intense interest to an account of some exciting cricket-match, though the phrases, "caught off a tice," "stumped off his ground," and "the leg hit for three," were as intelligible to her as Sanscrit. She also fancied, having set her heart upon seeing it, that she saw a certain increase of gentleness in Laurie's manner, that he dropped his voice now and then, laughed less than usual, was a little absent-minded, and settled the afghan over Beth's feet with an assiduity that was really almost tender.

"Who knows? stranger things have happened," thought Jo, as she fussed about the room. "She will make quite an angel of him, and he will make life delightfully easy and pleasant for the dear, if they only love each other. I don't see how he can help it; and I do believe he would if the rest of us were out of the way."

As every one was out of the way but herself, Jo began to feel that 394 she ought to dispose of herself with all speed. But where should she go? and burning to lay herself upon the shrine of sisterly devotion, she sat down to settle that point.

Now, the old sofa was a regular patriarch of a sofa,—long, broad, well-cushioned, and low; a trifle shabby, as well it might be, for the girls had slept and sprawled on it as babies, fished over the back, rode on the arms, and had menageries under it as children, and rested tired heads, dreamed dreams, and listened to tender talk on it as young women. They all loved it, for it was a family refuge, and one corner had always been Jo's favorite lounging-place. Among the many pillows that adorned the venerable couch was one, hard, round, covered with prickly horsehair, and furnished with a knobby button at each end; this repulsive pillow was her especial property, being used as a weapon of defence, a barricade, or a stern preventive of too much slumber.

Laurie knew this pillow well, and had cause to regard it with deep aversion, having been unmercifully pummelled with it in former days, when romping was allowed, and now frequently debarred by it from taking the seat he most coveted, next to Jo in the sofa corner. If "the sausage" as they called it, stood on end, it was a sign that he might approach and repose; but if it lay flat across the sofa, woe to the man, woman, or child who dared disturb it! That evening Jo forgot to barricade her corner, and had not been in her seat five minutes, before a massive form appeared beside her, and, with both arms spread over the sofa-back, both long legs stretched out before him, Laurie exclaimed, with a sigh of satisfaction,—

"Now, this is filling at the price."

"No slang," snapped Jo, slamming down the pillow. But it was too late, there was no room for it; and, coasting on to the floor, it disappeared in a most mysterious manner.

"Come, Jo, don't be thorny. After studying himself to a skeleton all the week, a fellow deserves petting, and ought to get it."

"Beth will pet you; I'm busy."

"No, she's not to be bothered with me; but you like that sort of thing, unless you've suddenly lost your taste for it. Have you? Do you hate your boy, and want to fire pillows at him?"

395 Anything more wheedlesome than that touching appeal was seldom heard, but Jo quenched "her boy" by turning on him with the stern query,—

"How many bouquets have you sent Miss Randal this week?"

"Not one, upon my word. She's engaged. Now then."

"I'm glad of it; that's one of your foolish extravagances,—sending flowers and things to girls for whom you don't care two pins," continued Jo reprovingly.

"Sensible girls, for whom I do care whole papers of pins, won't let me send them 'flowers and things,' so what can I do? My feelings must have a went."

"Mother doesn't approve of flirting, even in fun; and you do flirt desperately, Teddy."

"I'd give anything if I could answer, 'So do you.' As I can't, I'll merely say that I don't see any harm in that pleasant little game, if all parties understand that it's only play."

"Well, it does look pleasant, but I can't learn how it's done. I've tried, because one feels awkward in company, not to do as everybody else is doing; but I don't seem to get on," said Jo, forgetting to play Mentor.

396 "Take lessons of Amy; she has a regular talent for it."

"Yes, she does it very prettily, and never seems to go too far. I suppose it's natural to some people to please without trying, and others to always say and do the wrong thing in the wrong place."

"I'm glad you can't flirt; it's really refreshing to see a sensible, straightforward girl, who can be jolly and kind without making a fool of herself. Between ourselves, Jo, some of the girls I know really do go on at such a rate I'm ashamed of them. They don't mean any harm, I'm sure; but if they knew how we fellows talked about them afterward, they'd mend their ways, I fancy."

"They do the same; and, as their tongues are the sharpest, you fellows get the worst of it, for you are as silly as they, every bit. If you behaved properly, they would; but, knowing you like their nonsense, they keep it up, and then you blame them."

"Much you know about it, ma'am," said Laurie, in a superior tone. "We don't like romps and flirts, though we may act as if we did sometimes. The pretty, modest girls are never talked about, except respectfully, among gentlemen. Bless your innocent soul! If you could be in my place for a month you'd see things that would astonish you a trifle. Upon my word, when I see one of those harum-scarum girls, I always want to say with our friend Cock Robin,—

"'Out upon you, fie upon you,

Bold-faced jig!'"

It was impossible to help laughing at the funny conflict between Laurie's chivalrous reluctance to speak ill of womankind, and his very natural dislike of the unfeminine folly of which fashionable society showed him many samples. Jo knew that "young Laurence" was regarded as a most eligible parti by worldly mammas, was much smiled upon by their daughters, and flattered enough by ladies of all ages to make a coxcomb of him; so she watched him rather jealously, fearing he would be spoilt, and rejoiced more than she confessed to find that he still believed in modest girls. Returning suddenly to her admonitory tone, she said, dropping her voice, "If you must have a 'went,' Teddy, go and devote yourself to one of the 'pretty, modest girls' whom you do respect, and not waste your time with the silly ones."

397 "You really advise it?" and Laurie looked at her with an odd mixture of anxiety and merriment in his face.

"Yes, I do; but you'd better wait till you are through college, on the whole, and be fitting yourself for the place meantime. You're not half good enough for—well, whoever the modest girl may be," and Jo looked a little queer likewise, for a name had almost escaped her.

"That I'm not!" acquiesced Laurie, with an expression of humility quite new to him, as he dropped his eyes, and absently wound Jo's apron-tassel round his finger.

"Mercy on us, this will never do," thought Jo; adding aloud, "Go and sing to me. I'm dying for some music, and always like yours."

"I'd rather stay here, thank you."

"Well, you can't; there isn't room. Go and make yourself useful, since you are too big to be ornamental. I thought you hated to be tied to a woman's apron-string?" retorted Jo, quoting certain rebellious words of his own.

"Ah, that depends on who wears the apron!" and Laurie gave an audacious tweak at the tassel.

"Are you going?" demanded Jo, diving for the pillow.

He fled at once, and the minute it was well "Up with the bonnets of bonnie Dundee," she slipped away, to return no more till the young gentleman had departed in high dudgeon.

#hellsitesonlybookclub #bookblr #Alcott #Little Women

[allthegoodurlsaregone]

#001

I embarrassed myself today. I haven’t seen Janey in over 10 years. After I had graduated we had only brief moments of contact, and then she fell off the face of the earth.  In those days, I was very enamored of Janey. I loved her voice, the way her face looked, and quite possibly the way that I believed that she was in to me. There’s nothing more attractive than someone who appears as a kind soul. Someone who feels like they couldn’t hurt a fly, but knew how to stand up for themselves when the time arose. All of these traits together, and with the inkling that this person may also have sentiments towards you in a non platonic matter was enough for me at high school age. Having anyone interested in me, especially when I thought so lowly of myself, was enough to get me lost in a partner.

Across the parking lot I saw Janey for the first time. The years have obviously been kind to her looks, but not entirely to herself as she would tell me as we caught each other up on our downfalls and major events of our lives. We had both wished there was greater news to tell one another, but this just seems to be how the world is at the moment - especially for people in our age and wage bracket.

Everything is a wheel of monotony. A vicious circle. Driving the proverbial car to get to work, only to be working to pay for the car. We are alive, but we are not being allowed to live.

My voice finally going out after five full hours of talking. Earlier she had said that she doesn’t talk much, but I ensured her I could talk enough for the both of us. While I did talk enough, it was great to have her start going when she did. It didn’t feel like enough time despite the hours, but I had felt like I divulged too much in too little time to make stuff poignant. I wanted to catch her up on as much as I could in the event that maybe we wouldn’t see each other again after this. Just enough to get her to know what had happened in my life to catch her up to speed, too little I feel to be of any substance. A word vomit.

At this time, I have not heard from her since dropping her back off at her place. I can understand if she chooses not to reach out to me again as I feel like I talked about nothing for hours. We discussed our lives, and while everything she was saying was important, everything that left my mouth felt redundant - at least to me. We both trauma dumped, but maybe i dumped too much. Maybe I spoke too much about my distaste of the current social economic climate. Maybe I spoke too much about how conflicted I am in my skin in a world where people in my shoes get privileges they aren't aware of most of the time and that seeing them treat others with injustice upsets me. Maybe it was the mention of how I react to sensory overload.  I don’t think highly of myself, obviously read in the above statements, but I sometimes wish that someone could see something in me and could convince me of what they see. I don’t think I am a bad person. I have made some bad mistakes maybe, but never in the intent of being a bad person.

I wanted to tell her more, maybe I wanted to convince her I wasn’t a good person and wasn’t worth wasting the time to get to know me again. I’ve been known to self sabotage - it’s not a strange thing to do when you’re being raptured by a mental illness with no real solution being offered by the bubble you’re in. I want to be in a loving relationship, but I have began to believe I am not deserving because of my actions.

--

I had dinner with Charles and his wife. It was a really great meal that his wife cooked, and honestly it was nice to have a homemade meal not made by me for once after a long time. It was nice to spend time with them, I had mentioned a relationship that I previously had though that wasn’t viewed quite kindly. It was a product of the environment, and something that in hindsight the entire relationship was entirely a horrible idea. This relationship happened. It can’t be taken back. I can’t take it back. It happened. Jessica and I should not have been together. While legal, I was too old. She was a co-worker. We almost had a child. She ruined our relationship, but honestly it was for the best that she did. 

I obviously wouldn’t even fathom the idea of doing that part of my life over again if given the chance. I can’t say I’d change anything in my life. Maybe I would take me out of the equation if I could see what it would all be like without me, see what the players in my life would be up to if I was never a part. I don’t want to stop existing, but I wouldn’t mind never have existing at all. But for now, I am on a death sentence. I exist, and I will keep existing until the forces at play tell me to stop. Stop.

#journal

[pinky-the-elephant-room]

It ain't cheating if it happened only once

® AN: I'm back in Idk how long but it's been a min. I wrote a prompt for @liliesoftherain who's also a bitch that's been MIA. But whatever I'm here now though I can't say that for Lilie LOL.

® Warnings: Bakugou x Fem Reader. Contains cheating, married reader, explicit sex, degradation, oral sex, blow job, some spanking? rough sex, and voyeurism. Read at your own risk.

® Summary: Your neighbor is none other than pro hero Dynamight and your husband is gone. What he doesn't know won't hurt him.

® ® ® ®

In the luxury apartments where Y/N resided with her husband, the sunset was casting a morose orange light as it dipped through the skyline. And from the window she was peeking through, that amount of sunshine was the perfect backdrop for the picturesque sight in front of her. 

The color in her cheeks rose as he pulled the tight black undershirt he wore over his head. While the explosive hero used his garment to wipe his tired, sweaty face, Y/N watched his toned chest with rapture.

Her husband didn’t look like that she couldn't help but think. And immediately, she felt guilt replace that thought. Of course, he didn’t look like a pro hero. Her husband was a salaryman. Boring and safe, but a good man. He didn’t deserve this despite the fact he wouldn’t ever know that Y/N was making eyes at their ridiculously good-looking neighbor. 

Well, that wasn’t true. She did a lot more than make eyes, but it wasn't bad! And even then it was harmless.

But not harmless enough for Bakugou to ignore it. 

She remembered how a particular morning on the elevator it felt like she was getting through to Bakugou that there might have been something in return. Only for her husband to come calling after her and ruining everything.

Y/N remembered the way Bakugou’s amber eyes widened and then narrowed in anger. He didn’t say anything else and her idiotic husband proceeded to quietly fawn over Bakugou who ignored the praise and stormed off.  

Now Bakugou wouldn’t look twice at her and it was eating her alive.

As if someone was burning holes in her, the sensation broke her out of her thoughts and she met his searing gaze. They exchanged looks and it felt like hours the way they communicated with their eyes. Bakugou’s face became smug and he broke contact with a smirk. 

She felt humiliation awash over her and felt her eyes prickle with emotion. Despite her mortification, she couldn’t help but find his broad shoulders and toned back enticing as he walked away. She turned around and dashed off into the bedroom that she shared with her husband. 

Y/N flopped on her bed dramatically and then grabbed the nearest pillow to bury her face in. 

She was a terrible person. Of course, it was wrong for her to be doing this in her husband’s absence. But he left her alone for months on end for business trips. She would have felt a little better about herself if her husband had done the obvious and had an affair during the trips. But she knew that boring, emotionally unavailable man was too buried in work to even consider it. 

Besides, if Bakugou didn’t want anyone to look, maybe he should have drawn his blinds and then changed! 

She just wanted to be loved, and a bigger part of her wanted to be wrecked by her neighbor until she was nothing but a drooling, needy mess. Was that really so wrong?

 As her thoughts spiraled with inappropriate images, she let out a frustrated groan and squished her face against the pillow. She smelled the familiar lavender shampoo that she used last night during her shower and had fallen asleep with wet hair. The scent soothed her inner turmoil yet not enough to diminish the bubbling desire inside of her.

A knock awoke from her daydreams, and she sat up, startled. Who could that be? It wasn’t her husband; he wasn't due to be back till next month. Another knock came urgent and insistent, so she got up with a huff and was about to march out of her bedroom when she noticed she was still in her tank top and boy shorts. 

Y/N hesitated and wanted to at least put on a sweater when once again, a knock alarmed her. 

Annoyed, she sprinted to the door. And without even bothering to check, Y/N yanked open the door and snapped, “What is it? Why do you keep-”

She stopped mid-sentence, astounded – gawked at the man in front of her.

 Bakugou stood there with his arms crossed, pensive, and brows furrowed.

“What? Finish the sentence,” he barked, his arms loosened and hung by his side. His hands curled into tight fists and he looked like a minute away from blasting his quirk.

“Nothing!” Y/N yelped. “Please, come in.” She tried to soften her voice, hoping that would help alleviate his foul mood. 

It didn’t seem to have an effect judging by his face but he nevertheless took the invitation and stiffly walked inside the apartment. 

Bakugou looked around and seemed a bit uncomfortable in the surroundings. 

“You know I’m surprised to see you here.”

“Why? I can’t come here?”

“No! I mean we haven’t talked in a while. I thought maybe you didn’t want to …” Y/N looked down at the floor, unable to keep eye contact. “Keep talking to me.”

“I didn’t want to. We shouldn’t be,” Bakugou began. “Why didn’t you tell me you were married?” At this question, she felt his demanding gaze bore into her. 

“Because…” Y/N became speechless; she couldn’t fathom that he came over to have this conversation when they spent the last few weeks pretending that neither knew each other. A part of her also didn't want to voice her selfish reasoning either.

 “I didn’t think it was important,” she replied in a quiet voice after a few mins of hesitation.

It was wrong to say as Bakugou became even more incensed.

“It wasn’t important? It WASN'T IMPORTANT?” His volume got louder and louder until he was practically screaming in her face. 

“What the fuck were you thinking? Of course, it’s important!”

Bakugou came closer and closer until he crowded her until Y/N took a step back. But he didn’t allow her to go too far because he grabbed her arm and brought her chest to chest.

“You’re so shameless. I see the way you keep looking at me. You can’t help yourself, can you?” 

“That’s not true I-.” She swallowed heavily, unable to utter another word. A rush of shame and need coiled inside of her.

“Liar!” he barked close to her face—a puff of hot air tousled wisps of her bound hair.

“Just now through the window, you were eyeing me like … like you’ve never seen a shirtless man before.”

Bakugou spat those words out like an accusation, and she was the sinner being made to confess to her crimes. But it was a fruitless endeavor, and she hardly felt any guilt. 

She mustered up her courage and stared back defiantly at him.

“And? Are you going to arrest me, Dynamight?”

“Hah? You got a death wish?” his sweaty hands tightened around her wrist and she could smell whiffs of caramel emanating from Bakugou.

Not wasting another moment Y/N pulled him close and slanted her lips over his. Except Bakugou stood there unresponsive, not at all swayed. She pulled back angrily and shoved him. Not that it did much. He stayed steady and his chest felt warm and inviting. 

“Kiss me back, coward.”

A flicker of amusement in his eyes diminished as a scowl overcame his face.

“Don’t regret it later,” Bakugou muttered before he responded with a kiss of his own.

Keeping his hand secure behind Y/N’s head, he maneuvered and backed her up against the wall near the front door. 

Y/N groaned, feeling him cage her and tilt her head just enough so he had access to her neck. She shuddered as his sharp teeth laid their mark and his tongue followed up with a soothing reprieve. 

“Bakugou!” she gasped, running her hands up his black shirt and then settling them onto his shoulders.

Bakugou groaned her name and kissed her — entangling their tongues together and sucking and repeating that several times over until she was numb with pleasure and wasn’t aware of anything around her but him.

God, he even tasted sweet. She could feel his rough hands around her waist. Bunching up her top as he hurriedly pulled it up. She tried to wiggle to help him, but she couldn’t precisely focus when he was biting her lip. He separated himself from her, taking heaving breaths before frantically kissing her. 

His hands gave up on pulling her tank top over, he instead pulled down her tank top straps, and she helped by yanking it down further. Her chest now bare, he enclosed her chest with his hands. 

It was his touch that gave her pause. Earlier he was licking and grabbing anywhere he could reach as if he was desperate to keep her. As if he was afraid that someone would come to separate the two of them at any moment. But as he lavished his warm tongue to encircle her chest slowly- as if tracing and memorizing each detail, he was truly enjoying himself. 

She tugged his blonded tresses as he suckled from her. The moan that escaped him sent tingles throughout her body. Her vaginal walls made phantom spasms that squeezed around nothing, and she could feel herself getting wetter in her shorts. 

“Fuck!” he panted as he looked up at her. “I’m taking you right now. Can’t wait anymore.”

“Bedroom,” Y/N managed as he hoisted her up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. 

As Bakuguou strode through her apartment with steadfast footsteps, Y/N hoped to return the favor by covering his neck in lovebites.

She nibbled on his warm skin as she inhaled the scent of rubble and burnt caramel.

“Right or left,” his chest rumbled, and Y/N pointed to the bedroom she was in earlier.

He didn’t stop until he dumped her on the bed and then immediately started to shed his clothes. 

She watched him, enraptured by his physique. It wasn’t fair. No one should look like that. Bakugous’s happy trail of blond hair made his soft yet girthy cock look mouthwateringly tantalizing. So, when he approached, climbing on the bed and pushing her down– she reached out with her hands and grasped his cock. 

“Let me taste you, please,” she coaxed low and sultry.

He was on top of her, not exactly letting her up, but he positioned himself exactly above her mouth. Y/N had to balance herself on her forearm, but she could lean to tentatively lick the head of his cock. 

Y/N felt him shudder, but he didn’t pull away. So, she took it as permission and took as much as she could of him and sucked.

It was funny because she didn’t like giving blowjobs. It was a chore when she had to do it for her husband so that he would reciprocate eventually, whereas Bakugou could leave her high and dry — she wouldn't even be mad. It was gross, saliva dripping from her mouth, but she’s never been so turned on in her life.

She felt him take a fistful of her hair and pulled himself out of her mouth.

“On your knees,” he hoarsely demanded. 

Y/N a little shook, awkwardly managed. She just made herself comfortable before she felt his hands on the shorts that she still somehow had on. He slid it down until it pooled around her knees and got stuck. She didn’t get to tug it off as Bakugou nudged her legs aside and settled over her. He didn’t waste time and lined himself against her entrance. 

Y/N choked when he didn’t give her time to adjust and shoved his fat cock inside of her.

Her body quivered from the force of his thrusts and she clutched the bedsheets desperately. His balls smacked against her creating this salacious wet sound that got her tightening around his cock.

“You like that? You been waiting for this cock, huh?” he muttered as he kissed her shoulder quickly.

Bakugou wasn’t loud like her husband was even as he was vigorously fucking her into the bed. His breathing was harsh, a groan here and there. But nothing like the loudmouth that he usually was. He was reserved in his responses not giving away how much he wanted her. It made her feel frustrated because she felt like molten lava and she voiced it, crying out for him. She wanted the same from him. Wanted him to express that he felt the same agony she did watching and craving him from afar. 

Y/N tried to focus on something else in vain other than the man pressing down on her. 

Then she noticed the bedsheets. It was the infamous sakura patterned ones.

Infamous because it reminded her of last year’s anniversary. How she had in vain made an effort to celebrate their wedding anniversary only for her husband to come home late with nothing to show for it. He only claimed that he had forgotten and would make it up to her tomorrow. He did half-heartedly by taking her out and fucking her lazily on these same sheets. She remembered desolately staring up at the ceiling. Hating her husband and the sakura patterned bed sheets.

A smack to her bottom jolted her back to the present.

“Where you at? When I’m fucking you, you better be only thinking about me.”

“Bakugou!” she cried out when she felt his fingers rub her clit to the rhythm of his thrusts. 

It was too much. The bedsheets, his cock being a perfect fit, and his thick calloused fingers pressing against her sensitive nub. Soon she was cumming, taking Bakugou by surprise and pulling him along for the ride.

He came inside and coated her walls white as he slumped on top of her sweaty body. He pulled her close, not minding the moisture and licking the saltiness from her skin. 

Y/N chuckled, not feeling guilty in the least. She felt liberated and accomplished in her wrongdoings. 

“I’m alone,” she started. To which he grunted absentmindedly, nipping the tops of her breasts.

“I’m completely alone for the next month,” she said, leaving the invitation open for him.

He snorted, "Not if I have something to say about that.”

#bakugou x reader #bnha bakugou #mha bakugou #bakugo katuski #bakugou x fem!reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x you #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou smut #bakugou katsuki #mha katsuki #katsuki x reader #katsuki x y/n #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo headcanons #bakugou #katsuki bakugō #kacchan

[hpimaginesandblurbs]

PLEASEE we need a part 2 of Draco arranged marriage smut with preg readerr😩❕

mixed with this request: hey, can i request a combo of smut, angst, fluff draco x fem reader where she’s his wife, but draco’s been very busy lately and she needs him, she thinks he doesn’t find her attractive anymore because they hadn’t had sex in a long time, but draco tells her that he still loves her and make love to her? sorry if this is weird, and only if you’re comfortable. anyways have a good day

pairing: draco malfoy x reader

word count: 2.5k

warning(s): 18+, pregnant!reader, mentions of negative body image, mentions of weight gain, oral (female receiving), breast play, pregnant sex

a/n: this is actually part 3 to the arranged marriage draco series, so feel free to read the other two before this one if you haven't already! i love these ones so much. also my fbi agent probably thinks i'm a really kinky pregnant lady based on my search history while writing this but oh well.

part 1 / part 2 

It had been almost two years since your arranged marriage to Draco Malfoy and a lot had changed since then.

Firstly, you two were very much happily in love. Your engagement and the first two weeks of your marriage had been awkward and tense, leading you to find pleasure in the arms of your ex. After an impulsive move to admit your mistake to Draco on the very same day, mixed in with some aggressive sex, you two had decided to give your relationship a real shot. It was the best decision either of you had ever made. And now, two years later, you could happily and honestly say it was a real marriage filled with love.

Secondly, Draco had fully taken over as the sole leader of the Malfoy’s family business. You still weren’t entirely sure what the business entailed even after he had explained it to you a dozen times, but you were still proud of him. He worked hard and that hard work was all for you and your growing family.

Oh, right.

The biggest change in your lives has been your pregnancy. It wasn’t exactly planned but it wasn’t exactly an accident either. The two of you had simply decided to let fate decide, and fate was deciding now. You were six months in and you were really beginning to show. It wasn’t the bump that was the problem, but your husband's reaction. Or non-reaction. You understood he was busy with work and more than likely tired when he finally made it to bed, but he had barely touched you over the past few weeks other than small kisses. You knew he loved you, there was no doubting that, but you were starting to have your doubts about his attraction towards you.

Which led to the current situation unfolding in your bedroom.

“Why are you wearing that to bed? You never wear that much clothing to go to sleep,” Draco asked, his face laced with concern as he stripped from his work clothes near the bottom of the bed.

You almost wanted to roll your eyes. Or scream. Because of course he noticed. He noticed everything. You settled on giving him a non committed shrug, but of course he wasn’t having any of that either.

He quickly rounded to the bed to sit down beside you. “Are you feeling alright?” He asked, already bringing his hand up to feel your forehead.

You quickly pushed his hand away and this time you couldn’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes. “I feel fine,” you replied shortly, praying that he wouldn’t keep pestering you about it.

In truth, you were wearing a full set of pajamas to bed because you just didn’t feel attractive wearing your usual over sized shirts or skimpy, small sets anymore. You knew, rationally, that most of it was in your head, but his lack of libido for you lately wasn’t helping you feel much better about your current weight gain.

“Why all the clothing, then? Are you cold? I can turn the heat up if you’d like,” Draco continued, but he stood back up to continue changing.

“Draco, I said I was fine,” you insisted, barely keeping the annoyance out of your voice.

“Do you have a sexy set of lingerie underneath that you want me to find?” He asked, playfully now.

You scoffed. “Not that you’d fuck me if I did anyways,” you whispered under your breath.

But of course he heard you.

“What was that?” He asked, spinning back around to face you, his shirt half unbuttoned and his tie around his neck. Damn him for looking so good.

“I know you heard me. Don’t make me repeat it,” you replied coldly, rolling over so you didn’t have to face him any more.

“Y/N,” he called, trying to get your attention, trying to get you to turn back around. Once he realized that wouldn’t work, he rounded the bed so he could see your face. “Why do you think that?” He asked calmly, but you could see the desperate confusion all over his face.

“‘Why do I think that?’” You mocked, the question riling you up enough to force you to sit up. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe because you haven’t touched me in weeks. I know I’ve gained weight and I know I’m probably starting to look like a whale but-”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he cut you off, swiftly climbing onto the bed so he could be closer to you. “Darling, please calm down,” he pleaded softly, gently dragging you onto his lap so he could hold you. You let him move you easily, but you were still uneasy. He held you close and waited for you to calm down a bit and get settled before he started.

“First of all, you don’t look like a whale so let’s get that out of the way. You never have and you never will no matter how big this baby gets. You’re growing a child inside of you, darling. Please don’t be so hard on yourself for something you’re supposed to be doing right now,” he told you, absentmindedly stroking your growing belly. It was a new quirk he had picked up once you started showing - either of you started talking about the baby and suddenly his hand was on your stomach. The familiarity of the movement put you at ease and you leaned further into him.

“Secondly, I haven’t initiated anything because you were telling me how tired you’ve been. I didn’t want to push you into something you didn’t want or end up hurting you or the baby, so I didn’t try anything. I realize now that that was a mistake, because I hate that I made you feel this way, darling. I should have just asked. But please trust me when I tell you I’ve wanted you every day, same as it’s always been and always will be. Merlin, the past few weeks I’ve been going to bed and waking up hard enough to pound nails,” he admitted sheepishly, causing you to giggle.

Even the thought of him being hard had you clit throbbing and your body perking up. The past few weeks had left you desperate and aching despite the fatigue and other pregnancy symptoms wreaking havoc on your body. Despite the seriousness of the conversation, you wanted him now.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He finally asked, cutting off your train of thought.

You debated lying or even brushing off the question, but you knew he wouldn’t drop it unless he was certain you were being honest. Serious conversations called for honest responses.

“A couple of reasons I guess. You work hard all day and I know you’re tired by the time we get to bed, so I felt bad asking. And with the thoughts I was having it didn’t even really seem worth it to try anything because I thought you’d just shut me down,” you confessed, not even daring to look up at him.

“Darling, the day I say no to sex with you is the day my cock doesn’t work,” he said with a chuckle, but his hand came up to grab you under the chin to turn your head to face him. “I think you’re beautiful, Y/N. I have since the day I met you and everyday since. I don’t call you ‘my pretty girl’ for no reason. If you wanted me to make you feel good, you could have just asked me.”

You gave him a small smile, your first genuine one all day. But you jumped at the opportunity. “Even right now?” You asked bashfully, referencing the less-than-sexy pajamas you were wearing.

He didn’t even bother giving you an answer. On your next breath, he was pulling you into a heated kiss that you have been waiting weeks for. You both have been waiting if his enthusiasm was anything to go by.

Gently, so gently as if you might break if he was any rougher, he moved you both until you were laying flat on your back without breaking the kiss once. In mere moments he was stripping you bare, removing your layers until you were finally exposed to him. He didn’t give you a moment to be insecure, though.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he murmured, his dark eyes trailing over every inch of your body. You might have thought he was just feeding you compliments if you didn’t see the utter rapture in his eyes, but his look of lust was unmistakable.

You were breathless just from the way he was looking at you, equally stunned and turned on by the way he was devouring you with his eyes. But when he immediately ducked down to lick a harsh trail up your soaked slit, a moan of pleasure got ripped from your throat without hesitation. After weeks of nothing but self inflicted torture, feeling his tongue on you was an otherworldly experience.

“Fuck, I missed this,” he murmured against your aching clit before unleashing himself on you like a starving man. He started on your clit, giving it kitten licks and sucking it in between his lips until your legs were shaking. Eventually, he made his way down to your entrance to fuck you with his tongue, making you writhe against the sheets and practically scream his name.

“Cum for me, pretty girl. I can feel how close you are,” he demanded, his lips a caress against your sensitive skin as he worked you closer and closer to your release with his tongue.

He sucked your clit into his mouth one last time, and that was your undoing. You came with a scream, your back arching obscenely as wave upon wave of pleasure coursed through your body. Despite not having made you cum in weeks, your husband certainly did not disappoint. You doubted he ever would.

You could feel Draco staring at you as you came down from your high, and when you cracked your eyes open you were just as transfixed as he looked. His usually perfect hair was a mess, sticking up in odd places from the way you had mused your fingers through his locks. His lips were swollen and wet, in equal measure from the kisses you had been sharing and his exquisite ministrations on your still throbbing cunt. And his eyes were dark with lust, staring into yours like you held the answer to every question he ever had.

“Did that feel good, darling?” He cooed, his hands trailing possessively up your body as he raised himself to hover above you.

“I want more,” you told him honestly as he took your tender breasts in his hands, tweaking your nipples just to force a whine out of you.

“Keep making those pretty noises and we might be here all night,” he said with a smirk, his head ducking down to suck on the nipples he had just been playing with.

It felt so much better than it usually did, probably thanks to how sore they were. His tongue was soothing every inch of you and every movement caused another pulse of pleasure to go directly to your clit.

“Fuck, I think I can cum like this,” you gasped, pulling his head impossibly closer to your chest.

With graceful ease he doubled down on his actions, licking and sucking on your nipples with fervor as he slipped a hand down to play with your clit. Your body was in sensory overload as he worked you closer and closer to the edge, never once stopping what he was doing just to get you there.

You arched your back, suffocating him with your breasts as you reached your peak. Your cunt clenched around nothing as he worked you through it, his own moans vibrating against your sensitive nipples.

Draco wasted no time in stripping the second your breathing evened out, settling himself in the cradle of your thighs once he was back on the bed at lightning speed.

“Tell me if it’s too much. I don’t know how gentle I can be right now,” he said softly, a warning you’d probably ignore because you needed him inside of you just as badly as he did right now.

You could only nod back, your voice caught in your throat in anticipation. In one swift movement, he was buried inside you to the hilt, both of you giving strangled moans at the sensation.

He started slow, letting your body readjust to his impressive length and girth. You weren’t even sure which noises were yours and which were his, but you did know you were fighting not to roll your eyes back in your head in order to watch him work. He was clearly holding back, but his impeccable self control was shattering as he thrust inside of you.

You knew just how to break him.

“Fuck me like you mean it. Draco, please. I want to feel it in the morning,” you whined, your voice breathy from just his slow movements. You knew you’d be helpless to your own desire once he broke, but you knew it would be worth it.

He took a moment to look at you, an assessing gaze in his eyes. It was sweet that he didn’t want to hurt you, but that’s not what you needed or wanted right now. Far from it, really. He must have liked what he saw because from one breath to the next, you were screaming his name.

His next thrust was brutal, deep and hard just the way you were craving. You knew neither of you would last long like this, not with all the pent up arousal, but it was worth it to feel the powerful movements of his hips as he ruined you.

Despite his lack of control, he was still meticulous in the way he tore you apart. Slowly, he dipped his head down once more to suck a nipple into his mouth. Your back arched as you writhed under him, only pushing his cock deeper inside of you. Once you felt his fingers on your clit, you knew you were done for.

The world was a blur as your climax hit you, your vision and hearing almost nonexistent as he fucked you through it. It was only when you heard Draco let out his own ragged, breathless moan that you felt your body falling back into place underneath him while he released deep inside of you.

You both stayed like that for a time, your bodies still joined and close as you both came back down to earth. It felt almost impossible to catch your breath, but when he pulled out and wrapped you in his arms you felt your entire body settle into him. The silence that fell over the room was peaceful and content, but a stark contrast from what it had been mere minutes ago.

“Go to sleep, pretty girl. I’m staying home tomorrow and at this rate it’s doubtful we’ll ever make it out of bed,” he finally said, his promise coming with a smirk you couldn’t see from your angle but you knew was dancing across his face.

“I like the sound of that,” you conceded, slowly succumbing to the sleep you desperately needed after that, but the last thought you had before sleep took you was that you had never felt more loved, more cherished, more beautiful than right now in his arms.

#Draco Malfoy #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy smut #Draco Malfoy Headcanon #draco one shot #Harry Potter Smut #Harry Potter #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy drabble #draco x you

[haadeswrites]

Elysium

god this fic took forever i’m so sorry!! but hey, first fic on the new blog! <33 also y’all should really thank @iwaasfairy who listened to me complain about this fic for a solid month, she’s the reason it got finished

Cult leader Oikawa Tooru x female reader

tw: indoctrination, extremely dubious consent, blood, yandere themes, religious themes, minor character death, implied abuse & drug use, mild smut, nsfw

The island itself is breathtaking

Pristine beaches with gleaming white sand, vast swathes of lush, green rainforest and waterfalls that cascade into shimmering pools of crystal clear water. Untouched, undisturbed; a paradise. At least, that’s how Ryuji had described it. 

Paradise, but only in the sense that a gingerbread cottage in the middle of the woods is paradise to a lost and hungry child. 

He hadn’t been wrong. Bare feet sink into soft, white sand as you climb from the boat - the warmth just toeing the line between pleasant and burning. Gentle waves ebb and flow behind you, and there’s a light breeze that kisses your skin, the taste of seasalt carrying in the wind. Home, it seems to sing.

A laugh sounds somewhere in the distance, yet the only other figure on the beach is a man walking steadily towards you. He smiles when he sees you’ve noticed him; friendly, non-threatening. It’s a far cry from the swarming welcoming committee you’d been dreading, and you wonder if that’s somehow intentional as well. 

As the boat pushes back out to sea he comes to a stop before you, “I’m Makki,” he says, pushing the fringe of his hair back and giving you a not-so-subtle once over. Whatever he sees must meet approval, because his grin only widens, “Welcome to the Commune.”

Ryuji wasn’t wrong; the island is a beautiful, deadly thing.

—

You’d never heard of the Commune before the phone call. 

And maybe that shouldn’t be so surprising. You’ll be the first to admit you’re hardly an expert, but from what you do know, groups like the Commune – cults – don’t spring up out of thin air and start broadcasting their mistreatment and systematic abuse. 

They’re not the kind of people that have sweet old ladies clutching their pearls and mothers shepherding their children away – at least, not in the beginning. Not entirely. They’re not out to recruit extremists to further their cause, they choose to prey on the vulnerable, the lost and the disillusioned. Those easily manipulated. You suspect that’s why when you google the Commune, all you find is a website for what essentially looks like a long term luxury wellness retreat.

‘The Commune is about healing and harmony, about returning to nature, supporting one another to forge a brighter, more holistic future together… a self-sufficient community living apart from technology and other evils of modern society.’ 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes as you scroll through. There’s a whisper of philosophical teachings woven throughout, a page dedicated to their founder, Oikawa Tooru – smiling handsomely in every single picture, because what would a burgeoning cult be without a charismatic leader – but there’s not enough.

So here you are, on an island hundreds of miles away from home living amongst strangers; because Ryuji wouldn’t have sounded so terrified if this was just some alternate, free-loving bunch of hippies.

And even with all that he’d told you, everything you thought you’d be prepared for, the Commune is like nothing you could’ve imagined. 

Makki introduces you to Asuka, a woman only a few years older than yourself, dark haired and stunningly beautiful, and winks as he tells her to take you under her wing. She smiles brightly, eyes twinkling, and pulls you into a heartfelt hug – as if you’ve known each other your whole lives.

“We’re so glad you’re here!” she beams.

You’d like to hate her. 

It feels like you're supposed to, sometimes; when she gets that dreamy look in her eyes and starts talking about Oikawa and the Commune and how lucky everyone here on the island is. Yet there’s something about her – the genuine warmth she emanates maybe, or the kindness in her eyes – that makes it difficult for you not to like her.

“You should come to the gathering tomorrow,” she hums idly one afternoon, maybe a week or so after your arrival. The two of you are sitting on the edge of the pier, legs dangling down into the water, tangled fishing nets to be repaired strewn between you.

“I always go,” you reply.

She laughs, fixing you with a knowing look, “And sit right at the very back, all but running off the moment we finish?” 

And your traitorous heart skips a beat. 

“It’s okay to take things slowly,” she says. “We understand that being a part of the Commune is a big change from the life you knew, and that not everybody is able to see what we see and embrace those changes.” 

Asuka sets down the knot she’s working through and reaches for your hand, a gentle smile on her face, “But you shouldn’t be afraid. You’re meant to be here, I can feel it. You just need to stop fighting against it; surrender yourself to us, to the island, and everything’ll make sense, I promise.”

It’s dangerous territory. One wrong word could set off alarm bells, yet you can’t help pressing just a little.

“Do you ever miss it, then? Life outside the Commune?” 

Your family. Friends. The life you left behind before you came here to be brainwashed like all of the others.

“Why would I?” she answers without missing a beat, and it’s hard to ignore the bitter flicker of disappointment you feel at her answer. “The island provides for us, we don’t have to spend our days selling off tiny pieces of ourselves just to make ends meet. It’s paradise here, and we have Oikawa to thank for that. Why would I ever want to go back?”

Silence falls between you as you struggle to think of something to say to salvage the situation. Yet Asuka isn’t even looking at you, instead staring out at the water with a strangely pensive expression. 

“Did you know I was married once?” The words seemingly out of the blue, you can only shake your head. For a moment, she doesn’t reply, watching as the waves rise and crash offshore. And then;

“I was young, eighteen or so, fresh out of high school and he was a small town cop.” Her eyes flicker to yours, and your heart clenches at the sadness and pain echoing there. “I thought he was a good man, once upon a time.”

A chord strikes deep, your chest tightening involuntarily at her words. It’s not the same, of course it’s not the same, and yet… 

No. You stop the errant thought in its tracks. Groups like the Commune prey on the vulnerable, you know this. People like Ryuji, like Asuka, like–

Her fingers squeeze around yours, pulling you back to the present. “Come to the gathering tomorrow. Listen to Oikawa, it’ll help.”

—

She doesn’t give you a choice in the matter – dragging you by the hand to sit right at the front of the gathered crowd that very night.

Oikawa’s handsomer up close; tall and dark haired with pretty eyes and long, sweeping lashes that frame delicate cheekbones, it’s not hard for you to see how a man like him has amassed such an impassioned following. 

Once he starts actually speaking, however, you realise that his good looks and charming smile are just the tip of the iceberg. Oikawa’s utterly captivating as he preaches about the cycle of life and death and the paradise that awaits his faithful. Passionate and engaging, he speaks like he truly believes every word of the lies he’s spreading. 

And Asuka, her friends, the others gathered, they eat up every word like it’s gospel truth, resounding cheers and thunderous applause deafening around you. In the midst of the rapturous din, Oikawa’s eyes flit to yours.

Slowly, he smiles – a dazzling grin that makes your stomach flip – and everything; Asuka, the noise, the others swarming around you, it all fades away.

For one electrifying heartbeat, you’re frozen in place. Just you and Oikawa, trapped in the pull of each other’s gaze.

—

You can’t forget the reason you came.

But it’s… difficult, in a way you struggle to understand. You only have one purpose for being here, one goal; find Ryuji and bring him home. 

And yet, some days it’s like there’s a fog in your mind, and you have to focus to remember why you’re here at all. You catch yourself laughing with Asuka and her friends, the days passing by in a blur of endless, easy distractions. 

It barely feels like work when you’re sitting under the shade of the trees, eating the fruits you’ve picked by hand – ripe and sweet, unlike anything you’ve ever tasted – diving off waterfalls into the crystalline water and meandering down the shore collecting seashells. Even when you are working, mending clothes or cooking with the others, it fills you with a sense of contentment you can’t quite explain. 

Like you’re a part of something bigger. Like you’re doing something that matters.

Ryuji becomes a distant thought. A whisper in the back of your head, a niggling in your gut, easily brushed aside and ignored until there’s a moment of quiet. In the dead of night, the balmy summer night’s breeze kissing your bare skin, you lie awake, lost in memories of the last time you’d seen him. 

Fists angrily pounding at your door, the yelling that gave way to sobs and the hoarse, desperate pleas that followed. Ryuji’s face; pupils blown wide and eyes rimmed in red, darting restlessly around as he held you too tight and begged–

Rolling over in bed, you gaze out your window at the star flecked sky, the shadows of the forest that lie at your doorstep, and wonder what it is that scares you more; that you’ve lost track of the days you’ve been here, and saving Ryuji is starting to feel like an afterthought, or that you could so easily forget all of it, find a place here in the Commune and be happy.

‘The island, it–it fucks with your head.’

Ryuji’d told you that, and you’d brushed it off as paranoia. You need to find him. Find him and get the hell outta dodge.

You can deal with the fallout later.

—

Kiyoshi. 

He’d mentioned the name a few times amidst his rambling – a friend of his on the island. You’re annoyed with yourself for not thinking of it sooner, however much like Ryuji himself, trying to focus and remember the name is like wading through thick mud.

Once you do, though, finding him amongst the hundred and fifty or so inhabitants is the easy part. 

There’s no strict division between genders within the Commune, however Kyoshi, despite his somewhat lean stature, is among the builders of the island and his path doesn’t often cross with yours. 

From Asuka you find out that he’s been a part of the Commune for years now, before even she joined, and that he mostly sticks to himself, though you’ve seen him chatting quietly to a few of the other men, a perpetually angry looking blonde in particular.

It’s the last part that piques her interest, “Why’re you so curious, anyway?” she asks, her face lighting up as a sudden thought occurs. “Do you want me to introduce you two? To be honest, I didn’t think he’d be your type, if you’re interested, though…”

Cheeks aflame, you’re quick to shut her down. “No, no, nothing like that. I’ve just… seen him around and we’ve never really spoken, I guess.”

A lame excuse, though mercifully she lets the subject drop without too much prodding.

Therein, of course, lies the problem. Walking up to Kyoshi and casually trying to drop Ryuji into the conversation without raising red flags is risky, but what other options do you have? You’ve already spent too much time on this island.

Although, maybe Asuka has the right idea. 

While you hadn’t been lying when you said you weren’t interested in Kyoshi in that way, nobody else knew that. Who would really look twice at the shy newbie striking up a conversation with the quiet, easygoing man? He wasn’t unattractive per se, and from the brief interactions you’d seen of him, he seemed kind enough.

You have enough patience (barely) to wait for dusk the following night. There’s a celebration, something about the full moon and a blessing on the island and the Commune– you hadn’t really been paying attention when Oikawa had spoken about it. Still, it’s too good an opportunity to pass up. With the fire pits crackling, and the dancing and music and the sweet honey wine flowing freely, nobody will be paying too much attention to what you’ll be doing. Hopefully, the alcohol will also serve to lower Kiyoshi’s guard, and perhaps if you’re really, really lucky, loosen his tongue as well. 

Of course, you’re not banking on him telling you exactly where Ryu is or what happened to him– and that’s assuming he actually knows – but at this point you’ll take anything over the nothing you currently have. A tiny slip up, that’s all you’re asking for. 

As the sun descends beyond the horizon, you play your role well, laughing and chatting amongst friends, sipping carefully at the cup of wine in your hand as you wait for an opening. And perhaps it’s your nerves working against you, but you find that it’s not just Kiyoshi your attention is drawn to. 

Up on the shore, away from the rabble, Oikawa lounges back with a cup of the same honeyed wine you’re pretending to drink. For the most part he seems deep in conversation with Iwaizumi, his right hand, but every once in a while he glances up, letting his gaze roam over the crowd of his followers.

Every inch a king and his general.

And it would seem benevolent, if not for the strange smile he wears – the one that widens when his eyes catch yours.

Swallowing tightly, you force yourself not to dwell on it, to ignore the odd sensation curling in your gut and the way your skin prickles under his attention. Now is not the time to lose focus.

Pushing all thoughts of Oikawa aside, you subtly scan the beach once more, only to find that Kiyoshi’s moved, sitting now on a piece of old driftwood near the bonfire. Alone for the first time tonight. 

Your legs are moving before the thought even fully registers. 

“Do you mind if I sit?” you ask, gesturing to the empty space on the log beside him. 

Kiyoshi smiles, the laugh lines at corners of his eyes crinkling pleasantly, and shakes his head, “Not at all.”

“Thanks.”

Taking another sip of your wine, you will your shoulders to relax, your racing pulse to slow. This has to seem natural, and so you force yourself to hold your tongue, let your head loll back and breathe deep, soaking it all in. You can hear the others in the distance, the music and the dancing, the happy laughter and shouts that beckon – you want to go join them. Even your blood seems to hum, a call of something other pulsing through your veins.

But you pay it no mind. There are more important things to worry about tonight. 

Indeed, steel blue eyes have been appraising you curiously for a while now. “This is your first Lunar blessing, isn’t it?” Kiyoshi asks after a moment.

You nod, humming in agreement. Less than a month; you’ve been here less than a month. Is that a good thing?

“Are you enjoying yourself?”

A harmless enough question, and again you nod your head. “Yeah, it’s…” you pause, searching for words that won’t sound hollow. “It’s paradise. I feel like I need to pinch myself just to make sure it’s real.”

He smiles gently. “But?” he probes.

Grimly, you wonder whether Kiyoshi’s usually this perceptive, or if you’re just a really terrible actor. In a way, you suppose it really doesn’t make a difference; you’ve come too far to turn back now – at least not without raising suspicion. 

So you lie with a truth, and pray that it works.

“I had a friend I was supposed to meet here,” you confess quietly, gazing not at him but the crackling flames of the bonfire, the burning embers carried off into the night. “He was the one who said I should come, but now I’m here and he’s not and every time I catch myself enjoying this–”

“You feel guilty,” he surmises, cutting you off. “Because he’s not here to enjoy it with you.”

Wordlessly, you nod – and maybe it isn’t so much of an act when your eyes begin to glisten, your smile wavering. 

Kiyoshi’s silent for a moment, and you take another sip of the honey wine to hide your nerves. “You shouldn’t, you know,” he says eventually. “Feel guilty, I mean. You belong here, with the Commune. You’re happy here. Paradise… isn’t for everybody.”

He doesn’t say it to be cruel, more like he’s simply stating a fact, and somehow that makes it all the more unnerving. And it’s nothing you haven’t listened to Oikawa preach about time and time again. The Commune is for the devoted, the faithful – the lucky few – and you’ve never thought too hard about what he’d meant by that.

The Commune’s small, maybe a hundred and fifty or so people on the island. There’d been no initiation, no test of faith or trial period you’d had to pass when you arrived – at least, none that you’d been aware of. You simply stepped off the boat and they’d welcomed you with open arms. 

An uneasy sensation settles into your gut, goosebumps prickling at your skin despite the heat of the midsummer night. 

That… doesn’t make sense. It can’t. Absolute control’s too important in groups like this, they couldn’t just let anyone–

Kiyoshi speaks again, his calm voice pulling you from your thoughts. “What was his name?” 

You blink at him slowly – stupidly. “Sorry?”

“Your friend,” he clarifies. “What was his name?”

“Oh, um- Ryuji.”

Kiyoshi’s brow furrows in thought for a moment, but he merely shakes his head, “Doesn’t ring a bell, but like I said, not everyone who arrives stays with us for long.”

He looks you right in the eye as he says it.

You don’t understand the cold, foreboding that seeps through your veins, because he’s lying. He has to be. 

Ryuji was here. They were friends, Ryu’d told you that–

Why did you think this stupid plan would work anyway? That he’d tell you anything, much less the truth when this whole fucked up island is full of liars and those too indoctrinated to know the difference?

“You alright?” he asks when abruptly, you shoot to your feet beside him.

And it takes every ounce of willpower you have left to force an easy smile to your lips, raising your cup just a fraction, “Yeah, just gonna go get a refill. Thanks for the talk, Kiyoshi.”

Whether he notices that your wine’s barely touched or not, you don’t care – not as you turn on your heel without another word and head back up the beach. 

Your head is pounding, your body trembling – you don’t hear the call of your name until a hand reaches out and grasps at your wrist, spinning you around.

Asuka greets you with a wide grin, Makki and a tall, broad shouldered man you think is called Mattsun standing either side of her – the former’s arm slung casually over her shoulder. “There you are! I’ve been looking for you,” she says. “Come on, we’re gonna go swimming, it’s so pretty out there!”

You glance out towards the ocean. Moonlight bathes the inky blue water, light shimmering off the rippling tide; some of the others are already out there, splashing amongst the waves. 

“Clothing optional, of course,” Makki laughs, and Asuka tugs on your wrist once more. 

“C’mon, it’ll be fun!”

But you shake your head, slowly pulling your hand from her grip, “I’m not feeling great, I think I’m gonna head back.”

Asuka frowns, concern marring her pretty features. “Are you okay? Do you need us to call Mizo–”

“No,” you say, cutting her off. Healer Mizoguchi is the last person you need to see right now. “I just– I just need to go lie down for a bit. You guys go have fun – enjoy the blessing, I’ll be fine.”

Makki and Asuka share a fleeting look, but it’s Mattsun who interjects before either one of them can speak, “I’ll walk you back, then.”

Your stomach churns. It doesn’t sound like a suggestion.

And the smart thing to do would be to accept his help; the walk from the beach to your villa isn’t far, and while you’re not as familiar with Mattsun as you are with Makki or Asuka, it’s not like he’s going to hurt you or anything, but–

“Really– you don’t need to, it’s fine,” you smile weakly, shuffling back as he reaches to offer you his arm. “Go swim, I’ll see you guys in the morning.”

Mattsun shrugs easily enough, falling back into line with the other two – yet there’s something in the way he grins and holds your gaze for a beat longer. A glimmer of amusement, as if there’s some joke you're not a part of. “I’ll hold you to it, sweetheart.”

The heat that floods your cheeks clashes uncomfortably with the cloying heaviness in your stomach, but somehow you manage to stutter out one last goodbye before turning back to scamper off in the direction of your room.

–But not to lie down.

There’s not a cloud in the sky, and the full moon’s bright. No need for a torch, not unless you decide to venture into the heart of the forest.

You’ve been a fool. Kiyoshi, Asuka, Makki, Mattsun; you can’t trust any of them to help you, even unwittingly. Ryuji’s here on the island – somewhere – and every second that slips away, every second that you allow yourself to forget puts him in further danger.

And so you cling to your discomfort, ground yourself in it. The prickling sensation at the back of your neck, the tightness in your chest as you slip past your villa, keeping low and quiet – they’re a reminder that there is something insidious here on the island, that you have to get out.

You and Ryuji.

He’s here. Away from the others, kept under lock and key as punishment, or maybe being forced to undergo whatever kind of glorified brainwashing they’ve got going on, but here. You need to be smart about this, because while you don’t intend to stop until you find him, tonight will be your best shot – while everyone’s distracted down on the beach. 

For the first time in a long time, it feels like you have a clear head. 

Creeping through the underbrush, you steer clear of the well trod pathways that lead towards habitation. You’ve been there, and to the docks, and the river. 

If they’re still keeping him here (and they are, you refuse to entertain the possibility that it could be otherwise) then it’s not somewhere out in the open. A bird cries out in the distance shattering the calm of the night, and you flinch – but it only serves as another reminder that your time tonight is limited; you cannot afford to delay. You wrack your brain, trying to dredge up memories of the last few weeks, surely you must have seen something–

“Lost?”

The single word, spoken in a deep, gruff voice has your blood running cold.

Slowly, you turn. 

Iwa stands behind you in the thicket, his face utterly impassive. Briefly, you contemplate whether it’s worth trying to bluff your way out of this, but Iwa’s eyes narrow, flashing in the dim light and you think better of it.

A sigh escapes you, your shoulders deflating. “Where is he– Ryuji?” you ask; a whisper rather than a demand.

Iwa’s expression gives nothing away. Did he know, or have you handed him the smoking gun of a crime that’d fallen through the cracks? Does it even matter anymore? You’re just–

You’re tired. 

Exhausted. In the space of a few moments all of that shining determination and resolve; it fled, leaving a gaping hole in its wake. This has to end, you can’t keep fighting against them forever. You can’t keep drowning in this guilt, feeling torn every second that you spend here on this stupid island. You just want to find Ryuji and go home.

… Right?

A tense beat passes as Iwa appraises you, and then; “Come with me.”

The hand he places on your shoulder doesn’t give you much choice. His grip isn’t what you’d describe as gentle, yet he’s careful enough to make sure you don’t trip or stumble as he marches you north. 

In the thick of the forest away from the beach, it’s eerily quiet. Every twig that snaps underfoot, every ragged breath you draw; it feels too loud. Out of place amongst the stillness of the midsummer night. 

And isn’t it ironic, that for the first time since you set foot in this paradise, you feel like you’re trespassing?

A bead of sweat trickles down from your temple and your mind unwittingly drifts back to Mattsun and Makki. Are they still swimming with Asuka? Probably, you reason. It’s hard to pinpoint exactly how long it’s been since you left them on the beach, but surely no more than an hour.

And strangely, like water drawn from the depths of a well, an image comes to mind; the four of you standing in the waves, you perched atop Mattsun’s shoulders, screaming and giggling in delight as Asuka tries to knock you down again, two sets of eyes watching from the shore… 

You should have stayed on the beach.

“Can I ask you something?” 

“You can ask,” he replies drily – humouring you, you suppose.

Your lips quirk upwards for the briefest of moments. “What happens on the Lunar blessing? Asuka, the others– no one told me what it was.” 

Iwaizumi doesn’t answer you immediately, but you feel his fingers reflexively tighten on your shoulder. Likely it wasn’t the question he was expecting; surely there were others that you could have asked – but you don’t really want the answers to those.

If you’re being led like a lamb to proverbial slaughter, what good would it do you to know it? 

And yet as the seconds pass and no answer seems forthcoming from your captor, you resign yourself to the fact that your curiosity will remain unsated. You don’t even know what prompted you to ask in the first place; knowing Oikawa it’s probably some grand, meaningless spectacle. Pretty, hollow words spoken only to–

A heavy sigh draws you from your thoughts, and you falter in your step, almost tripping over your own feet in the process. Iwa’s quick to right you, urging you forward with a less than gentle nudge. “Walk straight,” he grunts, yet it lacks any true heat. Anticipation flutters through your veins, and he mutters a soft curse behind you. “Fine. It… it’s an exchange.” 

An exchange? What the hell was that supposed to mean? Your eyebrows draw together, mouth opening to press the matter, but Iwa beats you to the punch.

“You’ll find out for yourself soon enough, now shut up.”

You have no response to that, so you do.

—

The two of you walk in silence for what feels like hours. Eventually, the terrain becomes steeper, the worn path you’re treading twisting and winding, and you realise you must be close to the mountains at the heart of the island. 

As your breath comes in heavy pants, your legs beginning to ache, you can’t help but be lost in the beauty of it all.

The flora’s different here, unlike any you’ve seen before. Flowers bursting from the bark of towering trees, blooms of vibrant hues; reds and purples and soft, baby pinks. Even the vines at your feet curl amongst pretty white buds that gleam invitingly under the moonlight. Your jaw falls open as you gaze around in wonderment. 

You forget why you’re walking, where it is that you’re heading. Iwa’s grip relaxes as a quiet gasp escapes you, and he doesn’t stop you when you stray from the path to take a closer look. You can’t resist reaching out to touch the silken petals, leaning in to smell their perfume. Soft and light and sweet, your eyes flutter shut, a smile creeping across your visage. 

It reminds you of home. Not your actual home – the rundown, tiny shoebox apartment you gave up before you came here – but something deeper.

Home, like the long summer days spent playing in your parents’ backyard. Home, like afternoons curled up by the window, watching the rain come down in sheets outside. 

Home, like the comfort of arms wrapped around you; two hearts beating in sync.

“C’mon,” Iwa interrupts after a minute or so, his voice a touch less gruff. “We’re almost there.”

Dazed, you find yourself nodding, allowing him to guide you back to the path. This time, he doesn’t grab you by the shoulder, seemingly content enough to walk by your side. 

True to his word, it’s only another few minutes before you see it; a wooden villa, four times the size of your own and far, far grander, set amongst a clearing of trees on the mountainside. Confused, your eyes flicker from the villa to Iwa and back again. Gossamer curtains billow lightly in the breeze, a warm, inviting glow spilling from the open windows. Surely this cannot be where he meant to lead you… and yet he merely stands at your side, arms folded across his broad chest, watching you expectantly. 

“You gonna make me carry you up there?” he asks, not unkindly.

Swallowing tightly, you shake your head. 

Another glance, and you catch a shadow lingering by the window. Your heart skips a beat, apprehension curling in your gut as you begin to walk, every step feels less steady than the last. You’re almost glad when Iwa takes you by the arm; if only so that you have something to focus on other than the growing tightness in your chest. The villa, with its pretty flowers and airy, elegant grandeur is far from the isolated cell you’d been afraid of, yet the uncertainty of what you’re walking into eats at you all the same.

Is this where they’ve been keeping Ryu, or has he brought you here for another reason?

Nothing, however, can prepare you for what you find inside. Warm light emanates from lanterns that bathe the room, and your eyes widen as you stare around you.

Strange, gold carvings inlaid with mother of pearl decorate the thick, woodens support beams, a pot of incense burns on a table overflowing with fresh fruit. There’s a jug of the same honeyed wine you’d drank earlier in the night and two cups set on an ornate stand nearby – just within arms reach of one of the chaise lounges.

Iwa affords you little time to gape, drawing you further in. Silken tapestries hang from the walls – you’re pulled along too quickly to truly take note, but the brief glimpses you get hint at a story; a divine being cast from his home, lost and wandering.

It tugs at something buried within you, and uncomfortable, you tear your eyes away.

The two of you reach a closed door at the end of the hall, and Iwa pulls you to a stop, knocking once.

“Come,” a familiar voice calls.

You stiffen, though perhaps you should have foreseen this outcome. Who else would Iwa bring you to but to him? Distantly, you register his grip relaxing, the sound of the door sweeping open and his voice at your ear.

“Go on.”

And it’s funny, you think, how two halves of yourself can be so at odds with each other. Because while your stomach twists itself into knots, goosebumps prickling at your skin, your legs stumble forward of their own accord.

Two steps forward, and your breath catches in your throat.

It’s a bedroom, that much you can deduce from the decor, but that’s not what captures your attention. Nor is it Oikawa, leaning against the bureau with a genial smile – at least not at first. 

No. In place of a back wall, there’s open space, not so much as a panel of glass obstructing the view before you. And what a view it is; from this height you can see the sprawling forest below, the coastline dotted with bonfires and the moonlit ocean shimmering beyond. Where the floorboards end, there are steps, you realise as you unwittingly inch closer, leading to a cascading spring – likely fed from the waterfall you can hear rushing nearby.

How easy it would be to brush aside your worries, you think, to shed your clothes, slip into the cool, calm water and lose yourself entirely. Even amongst all you’ve seen and experienced on the island so far, this is incomparable. 

“Stunning, isn’t it?” Oikawa murmurs, coming up behind you.

His voice startles you, yet when you turn, you find him not gazing out at the scenery but rather at you, that same strange, knowing smile curling at his lips.

“Some days, I admit, it’s hard to tear myself away,” he continues, unbothered by your stunned silence. “But even I can’t neglect my duties for too long.”

You swallow, tongue darting out to wet your lips. Confusion twists through you at the conversational tone, surely he hasn’t brought you here just to chat about the impressive views, yet there’s no hint of disapproval on his face, no indication that he’s anything less than pleased with you.

It’s unnerving to say the least, but you’ll play along with his game if that’s what Oikawa wants.

“Beautiful,” you say, though the words feel woefully inadequate even as you speak them.

He hums in agreement, something akin to pride flickers in his eyes at your assessment, “A labour of love, I suppose. But… everything you see here, everything I’ve built, it comes with a price. You understand that, don’t you?”

“I-I’m sorry?” you stutter.

“Paradise,” he elaborates, his smile widening. “There’s no give without take. Those people down there,” he nods down at the beach, the tiny, ant-like figures still milling about, “the lost, the beaten, the abused – I gave them what they so desperately sought; a sanctuary. A life without struggle, without suffering.” He pauses for a moment, reaching forward to take your hand. You almost flinch, almost skitter across the room to put as much distance between you as you can, but you don’t–

His palm is warm as it envelops yours, a pleasant heat that seems to spread through your veins, easing your tense muscles. There’s nothing to fear from him, you’re safe with Oikawa.

“Aren’t you happy here?”

Yes.

“What about the price?” you ask instead, though it takes more concentration than it should to force the words out. 

Oikawa’s thumb sweeps along the back of your hand. “I never said it was your price to pay,” he soothes. 

There’s something wrong with that sentence, but another sharp knock at the door draws your attention before you can think too hard about it. You turn out of instinct, barely aware of the way his hand tightens fractionally around your own.  

A single finger at your jaw coaxes your attention back to him. “If you built a paradise, wouldn’t you give whatever necessary to ensure it flourished?”

Oikawa stares at you expectantly, deep brown eyes searching your face as he waits for an answer. Agreement would be the logical choice – the one he seems to want from you – but even as your lips part, the only sound that escapes is a breathless, confused noise. 

When you were a kid, maybe six or seven, your parents took you to the beach one day and you waded too far out into the water. The waves were bigger than you expected; all it took was one mistimed jump and you were dragged under.

It wasn’t for long, probably only seconds, and ultimately you were fine – but you remember those few seconds so vividly. The feeling of helplessly tumbling through the water, fighting to break the surface but not knowing which way was up. Your lungs crying out for oxygen, the disorientation and dizziness, the panic.

It feels like that now – like the floor’s dropped out from beneath you and you’re just hurtling through empty air, desperately trying to slow yourself down with nothing to grab onto.

None of this makes any sense. Your emotions are shot to pieces, too many parts of yourself being pulled in different directions and you’re not sure which ones you can trust anymore. How can you be? Oikawa’s still holding your hand, smiling at you, and you just want everything to stop for a second so you can right yourself and breathe–

The door opens.

Iwaizumi appears in your field of vision, dragging a bound, hooded figure behind him. And because this is all some big, cosmic joke, you get your wish. Both of them, actually. 

Time slows. 

Even with a burlap sack pulled over his head, you recognise the man Iwa shoves to the floor and sneers at. 

Hundreds of miles, weeks of uselessly traipsing around this fucking island, and finally– 

Finally, you’ve found Ryu.

There should be relief. Fear, considering his current state, yes, but Ryuji’s here and he’s alive and as the hood is ripped off his head Oikawa squeezes your hand and the only thing you feel is… anger.

Not a heated flash that surges through your blood. It’s slow and seething, insipid. You look at him, locked in place as empty, pleading eyes meet yours and all you can think is that all of this – everything – is his fault.

“Asuka told you why she came to me, didn’t she?” Oikawa asks.

Your brow furrows, why–why is he asking you that now, how did he even–

He slips closer behind you, letting your hand go in favour of your shoulder, his spare dragging lightly along the bare skin of your arm. “She was lost, in so much pain. The physical wounds, they heal after a while,” his voice is right in your ear, a low murmur that sends a shiver rippling down your spine.

It isn’t an unpleasant feeling.

“But the scars inside, well… sometimes those fester.”

Gagged and bound, kneeling at your feet, Ryu doesn’t even try to make a sound. 

He’s thinner than you remember. Face gaunt and bruised; there’s a half healed, mottled yellow one painted across the left side of his jaw, one eye purple and swollen. You glance at Iwa, standing stoically behind him, muscular arms folded across his chest. His work, you wonder, or others as well? You notice the tear tracks running down his face, catching the light of the lanterns, but it’s as if you’re seeing it all through a thick pane of glass. None of it reaches you, there’s nothing but that simmering, ugly feeling in your gut.

Oikawa hums, “I told you that Paradise wasn’t for everyone. It’s a haven, yes, but there are those who simply… don’t belong.”

His body’s so warm, pressed up against yours. Fingertips graze along your side, and this time you don’t bother biting back that tiny, breathless moan. Iwa briefly smirks at it, but there’s no embarrassment. Why should there be? Your eyes flit back to Ryu, bowed on the wooden floor.

Another memory resurfaces; A sharp crack and a ringing in your ears, Ryuji, eyes bloodshot and glazed, falling to his knees, clutching frantically at the leg of your pants as endless apologies spill from his lips. 

It wasn’t him. It was never him. 

“He hurt you,” Oikawa purrs. “He kept hurting you, I saw it.”

The words wash over you like waves breaking on the shore, but you find yourself nodding anyway. It was the truth, wasn’t it? A thousand tiny hurts, piled up on one another until you finally broke.

And you’d still come when he’d called.

Listened to him when he’d begged you not to hang up the phone.

“Iwa.” 

The brunet moves towards a grand chest of drawers pushed up against the western wall. An ornate dagger sits atop, strange and beautiful; the blade isn’t steel or any metal you’ve seen before, but some kind of black stone, the handle intricately carved ivory. You hadn’t even noticed it before, Oikawa’s room filled to the brim with odd trinkets and treasures, but now that you have, it’s hard to tear your eyes away.

Iwa takes it and carries it over towards the two of you, holding it with the utmost care. 

“Obsidian,” Oikawa informs you as he accepts the blade from his friend, bringing it in front of you both to show it off. “Pretty, isn’t it?” And while you can’t see his face, you can hear the smile in his tone.

He isn’t wrong though. 

Ever so carefully you reach out, the soft pads of your fingertips running along the obsidian surface, surprisingly cool to the touch. The razor sharp edges – wavy and asymmetrical, leading to a tapered point – you’re careful to avoid, almost positive you’d draw blood with the slightest touch. 

“Take it,” he urges, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear. 

Obediently, you turn your hand over, your fingers wrapping around the hilt when he presses it against your palm. And as long fingers curl around yours, you idly wonder how old the dagger is – there’s not so much as a scratch on it, yet there’s something about the weapon in your hand that feels ancient. It thrums under your combined touch.

Oikawa jerks his chin at Iwa, and with a short nod and one last, lingering glance cast your way, the latter exits once again. 

Leaving you and Oikawa alone with Ryuji.

“It’s almost time,” he remarks – though time for what, you’re not entirely sure. His lips press against your hair, his arm dropping from your shoulder to your waist, drawing you flush against him. “I know why you came to me, the lies that led you here.”

Both of you turn your attention back to Ryuji at that, the bound man now shaking with the force of his muffled sobs, snot dripping from his nose. That bitter resentment rears its ugly head again, soothed only by Oikawa’s pacifying hum, his thumb now rubbing slow circles at your side. “Shh, I’m not angry – none of that matters now. You’ve found a home here, no? You want to stay on the island with me.”

You swallow, nodding your head rapidly. The thought of having to leave now, of being forced out after everything you’ve seen and felt and experienced here, you– you can’t fathom it. You don’t want to. 

Ryuji’d wrought so much damage, but even before he’d swept through your life… had you ever been happy? Were you ever truly accepted – or loved, for that matter?

You can’t go back to that life. You won’t; he’ll have to drag you kicking and screaming from the shore. The Commune is your home, this is where you belong. Here, with Oikawa.

“Good girl,” he croons, another kiss pressed to the crown of your head. You beam at the praise and Ryuji crumples a little further. “Death begets life, you understand now, don’t you?”

You glance at the obsidian dagger in your hand and then at Ryu, beaten and bruised, bowed in forced supplication before you, and nod.

His fingers tighten around yours, “Then do it.”

Leaning forward, you reach for Ryu, fingers lightly trailing down his ruined cheek, curling at his chin to coax his head upwards. He squeezes his eyes shut, pain and regret etched over every inch of his face, but he doesn’t fight you. 

Baring his throat to your dagger, Ryuji’s pleas take the shape of your name.

Muffled, thanks to the gag, but unmistakable. And for one single moment, you falter. 

This… this is wrong; for all his faults, and god knows there were plenty, Ryu didn’t des–

A wave of calm washes over you, allaying your fears, your doubts. Your breath leaves you in a heavy gust, taking with it the tension in your shoulders, and Oikawa’s voice, smooth and honeyed, reaches your ears once more, “Nothing comes without a price, doesn’t he deserve to be the one to pay it?”

With your hand still tucked inside of his, your arm moves with a will of its own; slashing with inhuman grace.

The dagger cuts deep, Ryuji’s eyes snapping open in shock as a spray of warm blood hits you both. He chokes – a horrid, wet, gurgling sound – wide, pleading eyes frantically shifting between you and Oikawa. Every beat of his failing heart sends fresh blood spurting from the gaping wound. It drenches his front, splatters across your dress, your face, crimson pooling at the wooden floorboards at his knees. His mouth falls open and shut, trying and failing to form coherent sounds and you just stand there and watch, the dagger hanging limply at your side.

It doesn’t take long; seconds at the most. 

Ryuji’s slumps to the floor, his body finally growing still as the light fades from his eyes. There’s a beat of absolute silence, and then–

Oikawa shudders behind you, a strangled, drawn out moan leaving his lips. You try to turn, but his arms lock around you, every muscle tensing, his back arching. The dagger in your hand grows hot, burning the soft skin of your palm, but with his fingers still tightly entwined with yours you can only whimper and endure it.

With a hoarse, guttural roar, a pulse of pure energy surges through the room like a shockwave. Every cell in your body lights up, electrified, buzzing; a dizzying euphoria unlike any you’ve felt before coursing through your blood. 

Across the island, voices cry out in delight, a symphony of life. The trees tremble and shake, invigorated and renewed, fresh buds bursting from the forest floor, blooming under the light of the full moon.

The harvests flourish, even the river swells in response to the call.

Death begets life, just as he promised.

And with every inch of your body alight and singing with pleasure, you can barely think much less protest (and why would you want to?) as Oikawa roughly yanks you around, hungry lips crashing against your own as his fingers pull and tear at your bloodstained dress. He wastes no time with foreplay, and you suspect only begrudgingly takes a moment to hoist you up against him and carry you to his bed.

There’s nothing gentle about the way he hauls your hips to his, sheathing his cock inside of your warm, tight cunt with one savage thrust, but you don’t care.

Not as you cling to him, fingernails raking along his shoulders as he presses your thighs further apart so he can fuck you deeper. It’s hard and rough and brutal, yet you moan for him all the same, his name a prayer swallowed up by feverish, claiming kisses.

Tonight, bathed in blood and the soft glow of moonlight, you offer your god everything.

—

“Look, look!” 

A small hand tugs at your skirt, and you glance down to find a little girl with pretty, dark curls holding up a crown of woven flowers.

“Do you like it?” she asks. 

Carefully, you take it from her, bringing it closer to examine. She watches you intently as you study it, lifting it this way and that to appraise her work, humming thoughtfully for good measure. “I think it’s beautiful work,” you tell her after a long enough pause, and you can’t help but smile at the way she lights up, preening under your praise. “Why don’t you go show your mama? I’m sure she’ll be very impressed.”

The girl nods rapidly, thanking you before skipping off in the direction of her parents. The sun’s hanging low in the sky, the fires already being readied for the night ahead. You’re not unaware of the watchful gaze that carefully monitors your every move, and the moves of anyone who ventures too close by. Soon enough, you’ll return home to the heart of the island – anticipation fluttering in your belly at the thought of what awaits you – but for now, you let your feet sink further into the sand, closing your eyes as you bask in the lingering warmth of the setting sun.

At least until the sound of your name being called draws you back to the present. Yet it’s not Iwaizumi approaching, but rather Makki, two strangers trailing along behind him. 

“Thought I’d find you here,” he grins, throwing a casual arm over your shoulders. “This is Kaneo,” he gestures to the man, “and his wife Manaka. They arrived this morning, I’ve been showing ‘em round.”

You turn to the couple, smiling sweetly as you extend a hand, “Welcome to the Commune.”

#yandere haikyuu #yandere oikawa x reader #yandere oikawa tooru #yandere oikawa #yandere oikawa tooru x reader #cult au #tw: religious themes #tw: dubcon #tw: blood #tw: minor character death #tw: abuse #hades.dark #oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru x reader

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 125.4: Accidental Bonding (Part Four)

(You can start at Part One, if you’d like.)

"Come on," Harry begged, the following Friday. "Please come to dinner." The bond had only seemed to strengthen in the past eighteen days and Harry found his mind turning to thoughts of Draco almost constantly whether they were together or apart.

And touching the other man was almost second nature at this point. They spent all day every day touching the other without thinking; they sat with their ankles pressed together under their desks, hands brushed against shoulders and backs as they walked past each other, they frequently held hands without even talking about it first, and Harry couldn't remember the last time that he'd woken up without being wrapped around Draco's body or vice versa. Yes, the bond wasn't showing any signs of weakening.

"Your friends hate me, Potter," Draco reminded him as he pulled a wine glass down out of the cupboard.

Harry sighed, "But they wouldn't if they got to know you."

Draco leveled him with a glare, the kind that Harry had learned to recognize as a shield of sorts that the other man used when he was feeling insecure. "They have good reason to hate me," he said as he filled the glass.

"Not anymore," he protested.

The other man rolled his eyes and took a large swallow of his wine.

"Come on," he said again. "If you're there no one will flirt with me."

Draco face twisted in disgust, it was unpleasant for both of them if someone touched one of them with certain intentions.

"If they're rude, you can leave right away," he added.

"What's in it for me?" Draco asked.

He thought for a moment, "A foot rub," he offered, remembering the night that Draco had drunkenly been complaining that his feet hurt and Harry had drunkenly offered a foot rub. There'd been something immensely satisfying about it, he assumed it was something to do with the bond and not with the look of rapturous delight on Draco's face.

(Read more below the cut)

Draco's eyes narrowed, "And I can leave immediately if they're unkind."

"Yes."

"And you'll give me a long foot massage?"

He laughed, "Yes."

"Fine."

Harry grinned at him. "Excellent. Let's go then, they're meeting us at The Night Owl."

"How did you know I'd say yes?" he asked, looking affronted.

"I didn't," Harry lied, even he'd had a strong suspicion he could convince the other man. "They could eat there without us if you didn't want to go."

He didn't seem entirely convinced but he allowed Harry to take his elbow and he apparated them to the apparition point closest to The Night Owl.

Ron and Hermione were already sitting at a booth when they arrived, and Harry slid his fingers through Draco's as he headed over. "Hey," he greeted brightly.

His best friends both looked up, smiling at Harry before doing a double take when they saw Draco standing there beside him.

"Malfoy," Hermione said, eyebrows lifting. "What a surprise!" she said, glancing at Harry.

He could feel Draco's nervousness like it was a tangible thing. "Yeah," Harry said, widening his eyes meaningfully at her, "I told you he might be coming."

"Yeah," Ron said, "But we didn't think he actually would."

"Well," Draco said, detaching his hand from Harry's, "This has been fun but I'm going to-"

"No," Harry said, turning toward him and grabbing his hand again, "It's fine," he said, glaring at his friends, who he had told to be on their best behavior and to just give the other man a chance.

"Yes," Hermione piped up. "Stay, please. We were just surprised."

Draco looked at Harry for a long moment, obviously arguing with himself before nodding once and sliding into the booth.

Harry slid in next to him, the first (and hopefully largest) hurdle out of the way.

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Dinner went surprisingly well. Hermione and Ron obviously struggled a bit but Harry had asked them to give him a chance and they seemed to be trying.

Everyone seemed to relax a bit once they'd had a few drinks and when Draco got up to use the loo, Harry turned to his friends, "So?" he said eagerly, "He's different, right?"

Ron and Hermione looked at each other before Hermione said carefully, "I think it's too soon for me to tell."

"Yeah, mate," Ron agreed, "I know you've always had that thing for Malfoy but," he shrugged, "it's hard to know what's real and what's an act."

"You do know that he like cut ties from his parents, right?" Harry asked incredulously, "he believes that all of that pureblood nonsense is garbage."

"Does he though?" Hermione asked, "Or is that just what it behooves him to have you believe?"

"He lives in a tiny flat!" he protested. "He said that he was so compelled by your arguments about house elves that he couldn't bring himself to have one for his flat."

"Are you sure?" Ron asked, "Or does he just hide it from you? House elves are wicked good at magic."

"He knows how to cook," Harry said, "From scratch. And he knows cleaning spells," he added. "Why would he have to know cleaning spells?"

Hermione looked at him thoughtfully, "Maybe you're right-"

"Just give him a chance," he said. "You won't-"

"Better talk about something else," Ron interrupted, "He's headed this way."

"Well, I tried to get Lugnok to speak with me about the discrimination that Goblins have been facing for ages in the wizarding community, but he wasn't very forthcoming," Hermione started as Draco slid into the booth once again.

"Oh," Draco said as he pressed his shoulder against Harry's and they both relaxed into the pleasant hum thrumming through the bodies, beginning at their shoulders and radiating outward. "I read the last article that you published in The Daily Dilemma," he said excitedly. "It was fascinating," he added.

"Really?" Hermione asked, sounding surprised.

He nodded, "I always wanted to learn more about Goblin magic but good information is so hard to find. When I was young, I'd hoped that it was something they'd teach at Hogwarts-"

"Yes!" Hermione agreed emphatically. "I have been trying to convince Minerva of that for years."

"We don't know nearly enough about magic that other beings possess and honestly," he said, lowering his voice slightly, "I don't know why any other magical being puts up with us. I can't understand it." He shook his head, "I mean for all intents and purposes, their magic is stronger than ours and they've got better control of it. A house elf, for example," he said, "when they want to apparate somewhere it's just a snap of the fingers. And their blind apparation is loads better than ours," he shook his head, "And that's just one spell."

Hermione nodded, "It's never made sense to me."

Draco swallowed, "I'm sorry about that, by the way," he said, not quite meeting her eye, "for making fun of your organization." Then his mouth twisted, "For a lot of things, really," he continued. "Many that were worse than that."

"Thank you," Hermione said after a moment. "I appreciate your apology."

He nodded once. "You probably know this already, but Henri Laurence is a real advocate for changing the way we treat other magical beings. He could probably help your causes."

"Who?" she asked, brows furrowing as she tried to place the name.

"Henri Laurence," he repeated.

She shook her head, "I'm not familiar with that name."

"He works in transportation," Draco replied.

"Why would I talk to someone in transportation?"

He gave her a wry smile, "Henri works closely with a lot of department heads to schedule their trips. He's very amiable and everyone loves him," he added. "More than one political career has risen and fallen by his words. He also works with the Minister quite a bit, the Minister is quite fond of him."

"I never would have thought to start there. Thanks for the tip," she said, giving him a cautious half smile.

"Of course," Draco said automatically. "I'd be glad to give you names if you're ever wondering the best way to get things into people's ears. I'm afraid I can't do introductions, though," he said with a self depreciating laugh.

"Thank you," Hermione said, sounding genuinely grateful. "That would be so helpful."

Draco gave her a little smile and Harry felt hope bubbling merrily in his chest.

----------

As the evening drew to a natural close, Harry couldn't help but think that everything went exceptionally well.

Draco was still talking about Hermione's current project with the Goblins at Gringotts as Harry headed back toward the bedroom, Draco trailing along behind him. "It's invaluable," he said as he started to strip so he could put on his pajamas. "This research could change the way that we think about other beings. We could really have the opportunity to understand them better and then maybe we'd understand our own magic and our own limitations better."

Harry nodded, "You sound just like her. I thought you two might hit it off."

"Did you?" Draco asked curiously as he crawled into bed.

He nodded, sitting at the bottom and pulling Draco's left foot into his lap, pressing his thumbs up the curve of Draco's arch. "You're the only other person I know who likes to talk about Magic Theory."

He let out a low moan as Harry's thumbs rubbed the ball of his foot, "Potter, you are really good at that," he said, thoroughly distracted from the conversation they'd been having.

Harry laughed.

"I'm serious!" the other man protested. "If the whole saving the world, one idiot at a time thing fails, you can go into foot massages."

Chuckling, he shook his head, "Can you imagine?"

"Yes," Draco replied, closing his eyes and settling further into the mattress, "I'd come see you every day."

"Ah, in that case," Harry teased, "maybe I should think about it."

"You do that," he said, in that distant voice that meant he wasn't listening to him anymore.

"Read something," Harry said.

The other man opened one eye to look down at Harry, "What?"

"Read me something," he said. "Grab a book off your nightstand," he said, nodding to the pile, "And read. But don't pick something boring."

Draco reached over and plucked a slender book off the nigh stand, "I think you'll like this one. He gets everything wrong but it's delightful." He cleared his throat, "In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit..."

Harry listened as he read, a smile tugging at his lips, his chest filling with warmth.

This was nice, Harry couldn't help but think. Living with someone, sharing meals with someone, having someone in your bed when you went to sleep and when you woke up. It was nice to have the sound of someone else's voice and the feeling of someone else's hand in yours.

He wondered if he'd miss it when the bond ended in twelve days.

More importantly, he wondered if Draco would miss it.

--------------

Part 3 | Part 5

#100 drarry drabbles in 100 days #one year of drarry drabbles #drarry #slow burn apparently #falling in love #enemies to friends to lovers #forgiveness #accidental bonding #drarry ficlet

[saiqherrr]

— lunch hours (k. nanami)

.pairing kento nanami x fem!reader

.content warning nsfw, smut, teacherxstudent, age gap, cheating, oral sex (m!receiving), teasing, unprotected sex, mouth covering, semi-rough sex, taunting, (let me know if i missed any!)

.synopsis you've had your eye on your professor for quite some time...

.a/n NANAMI HAS A LITTLE BIT OF A MULLET HERE, requested by the one & only @oonizoomi :smug: LOL. enjoy this. it's short but i just wanted to give my baby nanami some love. i might make a part two to this :shrug:

.wc 2.3k

this was not proof read, but i will be editing, my bad :dead:

NANAMI’S SLACKS were annoyingly crinkled as he plunked down in the cushioned chair that was located in front of the folding table in front of him. he slid off his jacket, revealing the blue dress shirt that was buttoned around his bottom underneath. he was the only teacher on this floor who had a lunch hour at this time, so to his luck, he was able to eat his lunch without the disturbance of teachers conversing with their mouths full about tattle that nanami couldn’t attempt to give a shit about.

on this particular day, nanami was more irritated than usual. things at home were a bit tense; he and his wife were contending reliably about pointless things. the arguments would go on for hours. usually, the two of them would kiss and make up, taking things to the bed to ease their tension, but lately, his wife wasn't in the temperament for it at all. in fact, he felt like she was getting off to it too - touching him whenever he was frustrated, underhanded signals brushing against him, and then stopping abruptly, leaving poor nanami with blue balls.

he thought about his wife as he ate the lunch that she made for him. it was a small salad bowl, filled with a variety of things nanami liked and three rice balls. "she probably poisoned this," nanami whispered to himself underneath his breath. he chewed on his food slowly as he reclined into his seat, placing his elbows on the arms of the chair, his fork close to his mouth. a knock at the door startled him, for no one ever came in here. he grunts as he places his fork down on the table and gets up, huffing with annoyance.

he opened the door and looked down to see you there. standing at 6'0'', he was taller than you by a couple of inches. from his view, he was inevitably presented with the view of your cleavage and busty set of breasts. he gulped when he saw you, trying not to pay too much attention to your chest.

you modestly smiled at him, giving him faux naive eyes that nanami could read through. you did this very often; revealing more skin whenever you got to his class but covering up as soon as you moved onto the next one. nanami noticed it and at first, it bothered him, but after a while, he'd come onto campus in the morning thinking, "what's y/n going to show me today?" and he'd chuckle as he thought about how desperate you were to seduce him.

"may i help you, y/n?" nanami practically had to force the words out as he scanned your body. his ears became hot and the rest of his gaunt face was gradually becoming a slight shade of red. his consciousness was clouded with shame. he shouldn't be getting aroused by a student.

you cocked your head to the side, examining nanami's look. your smile became vexatious as it dawned on you that your mischievous antics were working in your favor. "yeah, actually…" your eyes flickered down to the notebooks and textbook you were holding before flickering back to nanami's eyes. "i'm really having trouble understanding today's concepts…lectures are so hard to follow for me."

nanami sighed before clenching his jaw unnaturally tight. get it together. nanami rubbed his hand on the back of his neck, before running his hand through the hairs that covered the area, reluctant to speak. "um, okay. just-just come in here, we'll talk about it." he stepped back to give you more access into the small room while nanami peered into the hallway, looking from right to left before closing the door.

a loud thud caught him off guard. "oh." you dropped your textbook - purposefully - and bent down in front of nanami to pick it up. your short skirt fell upward, revealing your white, cotton panties that were clearly visible and nanami's eyes widen at the sight. his lips parted and he couldn't even think straight, immaturely not looking away. as you picked up the book, your skirt fell back down and you smoothed it out before placing the big textbook on the table. you gave him those same innocent eyes again and this time it bothered him enough for him to say something about it.

"you put on a terrible facade, ms. l/n," nanami derides.

the words make your ears perk up. "i don't know what you're talking about, professor."

his nostrils flared as he licked his bottom lip and leaned on the door, locking it simultaneously. your eyes darted to the locked door and back to him. "y/n, you barely try to make it discreet." his arousal was causing him to speak recklessly, but he felt little to no shame about it.

you smiled bigger, showing more teeth as you walked closer to him, invading his personal space. you watched the way his chest rose up and fell down, admiring how anxious you made him. you admired everything about him. he was an older guy - which you had a thing for - and he took care of himself. he smelt good, he looked good, skin free of imperfections. his angular face was so attractive you, wishing you could see it buried between your legs, feasting on your pretty cunt. that mullet he had been growing throughout the year fit him perfectly and you hope he’d let it grow longer, too. you held so much power over him that he couldn't realize until now. "is it too much for you?" you murmur, your hand naturally caressing one side of nanami's face, turning it around so that the back of your hand was gliding across it.

nanami's mind went blank as he stared into your big, irises. a bulge was growing in his pants that he couldn't even hide. the pent-up anger and tension he's been holding for the past few days were preventing him from making smart choices.

"it's not enough…" nanami mumbled dreamily before crashing his lips into yours. his lips were soft in contrast to the style in which he kissed you, so rough and so needy. you didn't expect it to be so raunchy, you found nanami to be timider. but you weren't complaining. this was ten times better than what you expected and you mentally congratulated yourself. all that work of showing off in front of your professor paid off.

your lips barely left his lips every time you both broke away to come back to each other like magnets. moans were muted by the connection of your lips, echoing inside one another's mouths. you broke away and started to unbutton nanami's shirt. nanami watched you intently, breathing heavily. once it was fully unbuttoned, your hands snaked up his chest and down again, causing nanami's breath to hitch.

"make this quick," nanami demanded desperately.

you bit your lip, trying to hold back your excitement. you got on your knees, the carpet pressing against your knees, and began to unbuckle his pants. the entire area was hot...all for you. you rubbing him through his boxers, being a bit of a brat until nanami threateningly glared down at you. without a command being given, you pulled down his boxers and his cock damn near sprung out, eager to get milked. you wrapped your hand around it, spreading the stickiness of his pre-cum that sat at his tip across his length. you could feel the prominence of a vein running underneath his cock, sticking out your tongue and licking that specific area. it made nanami's legs weak as he relied on the wall behind him to support him "fuck…"

your lips wrapped around his pulsing head before you pushed yourself down, taking all of him into your mouth, your cheeks becoming hollow. you slobbered over his cock, coating it with your saliva. nanami's hips slowly bucked forward into your mouth against his own will. his tip connected to the rear of your throat, but you had your gag reflex under control. his thigh twitched, feeling like he wasn't getting enough of you. the moans and groans that fled from his lips urged you to satisfy him in the best way possible. anything that got a reaction out of him, you kept doing, you kept him satisfied. your dirty moans vibrated against him, a feeling rippling from his toes that traveled through his entire body.  every lick, every suck, was filled with rapture and it all felt like a drug. he needed to be inside of you.

"who knew you could take me so well..." nanami moans. his ovation set a wave of heat down your body. your panties dampened from your drooling cunt. you needed him now. now. you removed your lips from his cock, making a pop sound. you prepped his cock enough. you didn't want to make him cum yet.

you got off your knees and stood on your feet again, kissing him desperately, eyebrows furrowed like you were going to cry. "fuck me, nanami, please…"

nanami didn't have to think twice about doing so. he harshly pulled down your skirt and felt upon the puffy lips of your cunt and you shivered under his touch. he slides your panties aside, making you whimper from the sensitivity, and there was an eager, swollen clit waiting for him. "please…" nanami ignored your pleas, blinded by overwhelming lust as his thumb pressed against your clit, making you weak. nanami impatiently hoisted you onto his waist and pushed you against the wall.

"be quiet, y/n. i don't want to hear you…" while he was being controlled like a puppeteer by such an inexcusable lust, he was very much aware that if someone heard, it'd ruin his life and yours.

with a bit of a struggle, he positioned his tip with your hot entrance before you slid down onto his full length. you let out a silenced moan, mouth agape, and eyes rolled back. he was deep inside your core, stretching out your gummy walls that eventually accumulated to his girth and sucked him in desperately. you felt so good, better than anything he had ever felt. every thought and memory of his wife had vanished from his mind, even as his wedding ring grazed your skin occasionally. nanami began thrusting into your cunt at a steady pace, his skin smacking with yours. he got uncomfortable with this decision, bringing you to the end of the table, laying you on your back before gripping your hips and bouncing you up and down on his shaft. nanami hisses as you clench around him.

"it's...it's too much," you choke out in broken moans. you only said it so he could give it to you more, and it translated perfectly to him because his thrusts suddenly become more vicious. they rocked the table underneath you, he fucked you like it'd be his last time. the moans you had been struggling to hold back were forcing themselves up again, regrettably falling from your mouth.

"shut...up…" nanami grunted. he narrowed his eyes at you, but you weren't even directly looking at him, you were seeing stars. the way he fucked you was almost animalistic. was his wife having menopause or something?

"do you fuck your wife like this?" you taunted. his eyes seemed to grow darker at your words. "does she give it up like this? is she a slut like me?"

nanami took your right hand in his, intertwine your fingers, and slammed it against the table so hard that you couldn't help but cry out. his other hand covered your mouth as he continued to ram into you. "i asked you to shut up…"

at a certain point, he found your g-spot and once he saw your body spazz from hitting it, he didn't take his time to abuse it. your walls were pulsating against his cock, milking him with such greed. "yes...yes...yes…" he whispered over and over. he was getting close to his climax.

"don't stop, don't stop, don't stop," your pleas escaped through the cracks of nanami's fingers.

"fuck," he groaned out. your pussy was addicting. every time he swung his hips out, your core drew him right back into your sore hole. a familiar feeling spawned in your toes that shot straight up to your groin, causing your body to jerk violently as your legs were shaking. you let out a muffled cry, face twisted as you felt your orgasm in every part of your body. he could feel your cum slicking his cock as he continued to violated your walls, fucking you through your orgasm. "i'm so close…" his thrusts became arrhythmic, sloppy, and slow before he put in one last thrust, cumming inside of you, your walls drenched in his cum. nanami saw white and shook against your body as he was buried inside of you. he pulled out, mouth agape and panting heavily. he removed his hand from your face and you gasped for air that he unintentionally blocked off.

nanami took a moment to collect himself, get his thoughts together. he realized he came inside of you and blinked profusely, wondering if this was a wet dream or not. "fuck...fuck, fuck, fuck." he pulled up his boxers and pants and buttoned his shirt, but he was still not situated as proper as he usually was.

"i didn't mean to cum in you." nanami's voice was filled with regret. you stared at him and it finally hit you as well - he came in you. for the most part, nanami had avoided any type of action that held romance or intimacy. he simply wanted to use you as a cum bucket and that was it, however, he came inside of you. nanami was pacing around the room as you were putting your skirt back on. he finally stopped and took a deep breath before turning to you. "are you on the pill?"

you chuckled lightly as you saw the panic in his face. "yes, yes i am."

all that fear was replaced with relief as he breathlessly plopped down into the chair with his hand on his head. "don't speak of this. to anyone."

"of course."

while he did something very wrong and unfaithful, the thought of never doing this with you again didn't even step foot into his mind. whatever it was about you, he had to have it again. he figured keeping you around wouldn't be too bad - and securing your trust with a bribe would do no harm either.

"you suck in this course so, i'll keep your grade up," nanami says before you get ready to walk out the door. you half-smile and felt heat rising up to your cheeks. "as long as we get to do this sometime again."

#nanami imagine #nanami x you #kento nanami #nanami x reader #jjk nanami #jjk kento #nanami smut #nanami headcanons #jjk smut #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujustu kaisen

[bangtanfancamp]

Champagne Silk | KNJ

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⋅summary: Almost year ago, you became the arranged bride of the most powerful man in the city, Kim Namjoon, but this morning, with you, he’s just a man who’s head over heels for you who can’t help getting lost thinking about his future with you.

Alternatively: no matter how powerful a man Namjoon is, he is still a klutz in the kitchen. A sexy klutz though.

⋅ author’s masterlist

⋅part two of the Silk series ( read part 1 here)

⋅also the second installment of breakfast with bangtan series (masterlist here)

⋅pairing: mafia!namjoon x reader

⋅genre: mafia! au, arranged marriage! Au, smut, fluff, angst, established relationship

⋅word count: 15.5k words

⋅rating: mature

⋅warnings: a generous amount of consensual sexual activities 🙃, brief scene of oral sex, impregnation kink, a shared bath tub, multiple instances of christiana being uncomfortable with using proper technical names for genitalia and being intentionally ambiguous instead. (honestly it’s more tame and wholesome than you think but god, if these two aren’t hot for each other )

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“Damn it.” 

The sound comes rumpled from the other side of the kitchen, like someone’s trying to keep it hidden. It’s so subdued and muttered that around anyone else, it might have been successfully hidden. But not right now. And certainly not with you. Because you know the distinct, adorable huff of your husband’s regret in an instant.

“You all right over there, darling?” There’s an innocence in your voice to hide your humor.

“Promise you won’t laugh if I tell you?” 

“Oh, unfortunately I can do no such thing, my love. You’ll just have to brave the odds and tell me.” 

Your smile is benevolent, but unyielding. You politely, pleasantly even, refuse to give him another option, and he knows it. It’s that simple. Even with his back to you, he knows the jig is up. As he hunches with heavy shoulders, he sighs and mutters something too low for you to pick up at first.

“Once more for the people in the back, yeah?” You tease.

“I said, I spilled wine on everything,” he exhales. 

His voice is tinged in shades of caramel, rich with resignation, as he confesses, stepping aside so you can see the mess he’s made. 

“Oh, Joon.” 

A terribly bright fondness pulls your lips into a smile as your clumsy giant sheepishly ducks his head across the room. His once pristine white shirt, his linen pants and your white antique tablecloth are all freshly dip dyed in swirls of Pinot Grigio and rosé.

“I know. I know. You don’t have to say it.” His eyes flit down to the stack of too many wine glasses slotted between his large fingers that have spilled their bounty across every available fabric surface.

“You have no idea what I’m about to say,” you point out graciously.

Crossing the room, you tip up on your toes to press a tender kiss to the spots where his jolly dimples would show if he weren’t so flustered. 

“MmmHmm. Sure I don’t.” He squints at you while you slip one glass at a time out of his grip and reach for a cloth.

“Precisely. You shouldn’t assume, Namjoon. You know what they say.” You smirk, wetting the cloth with water you know will be too frigid for him to stand in this half asleep state he’s in, but the stains have got to go.

“And what exactly do they say?” His large palms dip to rest on his hips as he braces for your commentary.

“Simply that assumptions only make an ass out of you and me so…”

His nose scrunches in distaste, even as he starts to laugh. “What a beastly phrase. I forget how much delicacy Americans have.” 

“Oh heaps of it. More than they know what to do with, really.” You shrug as you wring out the cloth. “Positively genteel. Is that not why you chose to marry one?” You add with a wry smile.

Glancing down at the bands on your finger, you warm at the way they glisten in the bits of lazy Sunday light filtering through the window. Namjoon’s glints golden across the room as he waits for your rescue. Both still new enough to feel like a novelty. Enough to make a small light inside you beam with pride whenever you catch sight of it.

“I chose to marry the only one I could find who was quick enough to get the stains I make out before they set and sweet enough not to give me grief for it.” He arches an eyebrow down at you in challenge as you slip one hand past the deeply undone row of buttons on his shirt to pull the fabric up and away from his skin as you begin to gently blot at the wine.

“Oh no. Well, I hate to inform you of this, but unfortunately, I’m actually 0 for 2 in those qualifications. But I will sincerely try my best since you’ve placed so much trust in me.” You chuckle as you set to work. “Would it be helpful if I mention what a smart wife you have to have ixnayed buying that cabernet sauvignon you wanted so badly, especially given your current predicament?”

Leaning forward, he presses a kiss to your forehead before dipping to press his nose against your own while shaking his head. 

“No. Not in the slightest.”

“See? That’s good to know. Would have been awful if I mentioned the Merlot I put back too then. Can you imagine? Could have been so unseamly.”

He laughs, smiling against your hairline. “Well, what would have been the point of whisking my bride all the way out to a little villa in wine country and inviting guests only to not serve them red wine?”

“The point would have been you not turning into the kool-aid man whenever said wine inevitably spilled all over you. Case in point.” You look up at him through wide, fluttered lashes as you press the icy cold cloth against a particularly bold splatter on his chest. The frigid water grazes his nipple through his thin shirt and your giant of a man winces like he was wounded on the playground.

“Hey, that’s freezing.” He moves to swat your hand away. 

“Would you rather just take this off then? So I can work properly,” You smirk.

“No,” he sighs. “That would just be colder.” 

He looks so adorable right now. The lavender locks you’d once loved so well have been replaced, faded into a dusty blonde instead. His thick hair, usually coiffed so neatly, so perfectly, is currently disheveled entirely. Bits that had been gently curated to frame his face the night before are now plastered to his forehead, others shooting off at odd angles, all from falling asleep on the couch beside you once your dinner guests finally left late last night. 

He’s still in last night's now stained and rumpled clothes, still looking absolutely divine with the sleeves cuffed against his elegant forearms and his now wide open neckline thanks to the buttons undone all the way down past his rib cage.

His body is every bit a grown man, but his sleepy features- those wide eyes and pouted lips- make him look every bit the little boy you saw once in his mothers photo albums the week of the wedding. Big Namjoon still makes the same faces when he makes a mess as little Namjoon, and it makes your heart squeeze in your chest.

“Don’t be such a weenie,” you tease. 

“Careful who you tease, woman. You’re the only one in this city who forgets how many people are afraid of me.”

“This city is half a day’s drive away. There’s no one to fear you here,Joonie. Besides, your enemies have clearly never seen how quickly you’d fall in a battle against the cold or else you would have been displaced ages ago,” you tease with a twinkle in your eyes as he narrows his at you.

“I don’t think you’d like ice water on your breasts first thing in the morning either.” He huffs under his breath.

“You never know til you try,” you wink.

“Would you like to try?” His eyes rake over you salaciously despite the tenderness in his smile. 

“No, I can’t say that I do,” you chuckle, pushing a palm against his chest. “Besides, it’s hardly first thing in the morning, Joon. It’s almost noon.” You nod toward the clock.

There’s still sleep in his voice when he laughs, the sounds rich and resonant where it blooms from his chest. “Well, it’s still morning for me when we didn’t fall asleep til well after 3 because our guests don’t know when to leave.”

You smile to yourself at the memory of time spent with your friends. Well, more accurately Namjoon’s friends, i.e. the members of his crew who have become like family to both of you. Namjoon’s been on the move so much with work lately that there’s been no time to simply sit and enjoy their company. You were in raptures when he suggested they join you for dinner last night.

“It was so good to see Hoseok and Jungkookie though. Their new girlfriends seem so sweet.” 

Namjoon’s gaze seems far off somewhere as he listens to you.“They do, don’t they? JK’s seemed spunky too. She’s good for him.” 

“I think so too. He spent half the night blushing- he was so happy. It was good to see him so over the moon for once, that little romantic.”

Namjoon smiles, a soft thing nestled in the pocket of his cheek, full of fondness for the youngest of his friends. “Yeah, I’m glad he finally found someone so good for him.” 

Pulling you in, he kisses you gently, once, twice before pressing his lips to the top of your forehead, an unspoken “as good as you are for me” hidden his warm brown eyes.

“Big softie,” you whisper, reaching up to cradle his face, thumb brushing over his cheeks. He tips his face toward your palm to plant a kiss there too, his lips just brushing the inside of your wedding band as you smile.

“For you? Always.”

“For me? It was the food last night. God, That charcuterie board Jin brought was positively masterful.” The memory alone has your mouth watering. “Such a shame it was all gone so soon though.”

“Ooo, speaking of,” Namjoon slips out of your grip to rustle around in the kitchen behind you. “Not quite.” 

“What did you do?” You narrow your eyes at him as you settle into a wooden chair to start tending to the swirling stains on the tablecloth.

“Oh, the best thing. Husband of the year level best thing.”

“Husband of the year? Can't wait to see this then. Very moderate expectations, indeed.”

With his back to you, you can’t see what he’s up to, but you can certainly hear it. Especially the low grunt when his hip snags on the new island counter. This poor man was clearly made for a different life than this old world kitchen provides. You wonder which will go first, your husband or the architectural detail. You chuckle to yourself until you realize exactly what it is he’s carrying.

“Kim Namjoon, is that-?”

“A mini stolen charcuterie board? You bet it is,” he winks your way, and a storm of winged things flutter in your stomach.

“How did you even-“

“When you had everyone gathered in the backyard, and Jimin tripped over the cord for the string lights.”

“I’ll never know how such a graceful man can cause such disasters. Or how you managed to befriend the only other man on earth as poised and clumsy as you all at once,” you chuckle, stealing a fig from the corner of the board as he peels back the plastic film covering it. “Oh my god, that’s so good.”

“Mmm Hmm. I knew you thought so,” he taps you on the nose lovingly. “You always ask Jin to make these for you, and then you’re always so sad when all twelve people you invite make it vanish in half an hour.”

“I know. I know. It would go farther if there were fewer people to share it with, but Joon, the boys are like family. I haven’t seen them all together in so long. I couldn’t bear to leave anyone out.”

There’s a twinkle glinting in his eyes as he smiles down at you. He’s glad to see how soft your heart somehow remains despite the life you both lead. 

“Which is precisely why I took the liberty of stashing some of this bounty away while the guests were busy and saving it for you.” 

When he smiles at you like that, all softened edges and warm brown eyes, it’s impossible not to fall in love with him all over again. It’s not like you’ve forgotten how kind he is or how striking he can be when he smiles. It’s simply that the more you see it, the more in love you become.

Rising up in your chair, you reach across the table to tenderly cradle his cheek.

“I hate to say this, because then you’ll know you were right, but this is really is an excellent submission for husband of the year. I would like to point out, though, that you are welcome to make as many entries as you’d like before the panel comes to a consensus, you know.” 

He smiles so wide that his eyes get lost in their beautifully crinkled edges. “I’ll keep it in mind. Now, they do say that you should play toward the judge’s preferences. Would you happen to know any? To help me get that inside edge.”

“Now, now. I can’t help you cheat. You’ll have to conduct your own research.”

“Is that so?”

“Absolutely. We have a strict moral code. They’d ruin me if I let that sort of intel slip.” You tilt your chin up in defiance despite your smirk and laughing eyes.

“Hmm. We can’t have that, can we? Shame. I really thought this was going to be my year.”

“Do you really think the only way you’d win is to cheat? Come now...it can still be your year if you play your cards right.”

Your hand drifts up to his carelessly perfect hair, fingers gliding through it and tugging a bit near his scalp. One of his favorite ways to receive affection you’ve found out this past year. His lids fall heavy before he can catch them, a small hiss catching behind his teeth that means you’ve done it right.

“Careful. You don’t know what you might be starting.” His eyes wander the edges of your lips, trace the frame of your collarbone.

“I’d never take the risk if I wasn’t ready to face the consequences.” The twist of your lips is subtle, as gentle as the seduction you’ve learned is your forte. 

Namjoon licks his lips, the lower one snagging in his teeth as his eyes drift over you. Without breaking his gaze, he takes a champagne grape from the board and lifts it to your lips. You can feel your pulse flutter and quicken beneath your skin. It always does when he eyes you like that.

The man might as well be a snake charmer for all the control you feel like you have over yourself right now as your mouth parts of its own accord for him. But just before the fruit can graze your lips, his grin widens- wicked with delight- as he decides to pop it in his own mouth instead.

His dimples are so deep as he laughs at your flustered state that you wish you could crawl inside them and hide.

“Ha Ha. Very funny, Joon. Tease the woman you claim to love. Excellent way to keep a happy wife.” 

Rolling your eyes, you push off from the table, fully intent on doing... you have no idea what, exactly. All you know is that you need to get away from this table as fast as you can before you knock the carefully preserved remnants of this charcuterie board to the floor and take him on the table.

 The blush that was rushing to your cheeks is now crashing in your ears and all you can think to do is “go,” but before you can get even half a step too far, Namjoon’s warm, impossibly large hand is already wrapping itself around your wrist and grounding you to your spot.

“All I want is a happy wife,” he laughs. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted. I thought I made that pretty clear from the first day.”

Slowly, he stands as his hand trails its way down to dance across your palm before lacing your fingers with his. 

“Certainly doesn’t feel like it right now,” you pout, despite the excitement thrumming in your veins. You know that look on his face now. The one that’s evil and beautiful, sincere and serpentine. The one that wants to devour you playfully. To love you even as he ruins you.

“Oh no,” he tsks. “That won’t do.” 

Suddenly, he snaps you to him, his hands fastening themselves to the dip in your waist. You gasp, the force making you brace against his smooth, exposed chest to catch yourself.

“It won’t?” Your voice comes out airy, too thin, as the morning breeze billows through the open windows. 

“No. Not at all. So I wanna know: how can I fix this, baby?” His eyes are possessed by something wicked as one hand leaves your waist to trace a thumb over your parted mouth.

“I- I”

“Shh, I made this mistake. I’ll make it right.” He arches a single brow as his tongue wets his lips, and your brain loses any grip on rational thinking.

“And h-how do you plan to do that?” It’s a whisper- too breathy, too barely coherent. His hands are so warm. His touch is like lightning and suddenly even breathing requires too much energy with the way you feel like you’ve shorted out.

“I don’t know. You tell me, baby.” His knuckle tips it’s way under your chin, tilting your face up to his as you follow in obedience.

“But… I thought… I told you. The judge can’t help.” You swallow, lashes fluttering shut as his breath ghosts over your lips.

“Then she can’t get what she wants,” he challenges.

“Fair enough. That’s fair.” Your head bobbles in assent. 

“So I’ll try this again,” his face dips down until his mouth rests just below your ear. “What do you want, baby?”

You feel lightheaded as you melt in hands, rushing out the words, “Counter. Now. Please.”

 Your expression folds in on itself in satisfaction when Namjoon grips you around the waist and plants you on the kitchen island without a moment's hesitation. You gasp, airy and quick, before his palm is fitted against the curve of your throat with just the amount of pressure he’s learned that you like.

“Good girl. Open your legs for me, baby.”

A muffled inhale later, your knees have parted where you’re sat on the island and Namjoon is fitted between them, his hips to the counter as he kisses you in earnest. 

“Oh my god,” you gasp as his tongue and open mouth work their way down your throat, painting wide open blossoms of scarlet and blush along the way. Your hands are in his hair, at his scalp, tugging and grabbing to bring him back to your kiss. His taste is tinged salty and sweet from your skin and the grapes, and your thighs wrap themselves tight around the narrow slope of him.

He’s gotten so broad since the wedding day. If you had trouble composing yourself around him then god only knows how you’ve survived the past year. His shoulders seem wider, his arms more substantial, his chest impossibly inviting as you claw at the last remaining buttons of his dress shirt. 

“Off. Off. Take this off.” You push at the sleeves that bunch around the arcs of his newly swollen biceps, taking a moment to drink in how beautiful they are as you clutch at his golden skin. 

“So eager now. What happened to my shy girl?” His voice is teasing, light, but his eyes look proud of you.

“You did things like this to her, and now she can’t get enough.” Your mouth fits itself to the beautiful stretch of bare skin beneath his ear, suckling the indescribable taste of him before traveling down his throat and across his jaw.

He laughs, something deep and melodic, before his fingers begin to glide over your collarbone and dance over your arms, featherlight, like he always does when he’s trying to rile you up.

“Should I get this out of our way then?” His fingers tug at the slim straps of your champagne blush dress. You’d worn it especially for him at last night’s party. You’d never forgotten his affinity for your skin draped in silk.

“Why? Don’t you like it?”

“Of course I do, baby. It’s perfect.”

“Then why do you want me to take it off?”

 Your voice is sticky sweet with innocence, but Namjoon knows better. He doesn’t know where you got the wherewithal to tease him right now as he holds you pressed against his growing warmth, but when your eyes flick to his, he knows you’ve made the right choice. He likes it when you challenge him. It makes it more fun when he wins.

“So I can do this,” he grins with a flash of his teeth.

Without missing a beat, he’s slipped both straps clean off your shoulders, leaving the dress to pool around your hips, and scoops one of your soft breasts gently into his mouth. Your breath comes sharp, a stuttered, inhaled moan that tastes as sweet to him as the ripened figs on the tray. Deliciously priceless. 

He still can’t get over you. He doesn’t think he ever could. He’s never reached a point where the sounds you make fail to set his world ablaze. He’d like nothing more than to make drawing them out of you every morning just like this his sole profession.

Reverently, his other hand brushes up your side to cradle your other breast beside it. God, they’re so soft. Namjoon is almost ashamed to admit how infatuated he is with your breasts.  It would be embarrassing if you weren’t equally in love with receiving all the attention he gives them.

What can he say? He’s a simple man. You’re the most beautiful woman in the world to him and for him? They’re perfect. Even with all the exploration the two of you have shared this past year, he knows this part of your body has got to be his favorite- your skin there is so velvet smooth and supple, so delicately sensitive, so perfectly sized for him to devour to his heart's content.

As his tongue warms the tender skin of your nipple with affection, and his thumb steadily plays with the other, he feels the muscled grip of your thighs tighten against him. The sounds you make for him as you clutch at the edge of the granite might as well be a symphony. He loves you like this. Wild and coming undone at his touch and attention. No one in the world but you and him.

“J-joon, baby.. I-“

Looking up at you through heavy eyes, entirely impressed with himself, he smiles and flicks his tongue against you again. When the jolt makes you jump, he stands to his full height above you, and sets his hands back on your sides.

“What is it, baby? You have to tell me.”

Your brows crumple in softly as you look up at him through your lashes. If you could speak, you would, but the way he plays you like an instrument with no effort at all always seems to dispose of your grace.

“But Namjoon…”  you’re trying and failing to catch your breath as both his thumbs come to lazily torment the soft swells of your chest. 

“You know what you like. You know what you want. Just tell me.”

You’ve barely got enough breath to function as it is, let alone to form a sentence. “But baby, I can’t…”

“Then I’m afraid you can’t have it.” He tuts. “Not if you can’t ask.” 

His grin is wicked, and as much you want to drown in it, something in you wants to wipe it off his pretty face.

“Not… fair…”

He runs his tongue over his teeth as he smiles.

“Really? Because to me, what’s not fair,” he grips your hips, snatching you forward that last little inch to sit snug against his hips, “is me giving you a prize you haven’t earned.”

His hands dip to cup the curve of your backside,

his fingers digging deep into the silk and softness he finds there as he continues.

“ What’s not fair is the way you teased me in this little dress last night when you knew there would be too many people around for me to enjoy it properly…”

Dipping down, his sumptuous lips brush your ear as he whispers, “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? What seeing you in this dress all night did to me?”  

As yet another lightheaded gasp leaves your lips, a dark, satisfied chuckle leaves his. 

“H-how would I know?” your air comes in shaky as he has his way with you

“You know, baby girl. You always know.”

 As his fingers dip firmly into the globes of your backside, he begins gently, just barely, rocking against you. No hurry. No fuss. Just maddening, slow pressure as he grazes you. When an airy moan comes whimpering from your lips, his strong hands tense, keeping your hips too fixed to succumb to moving with him.

“But you didn’t... say anything.”

Your eyes flutter closed as his face lowers toward yours. You can feel the brush of his lips ghosting over the edges of your cheek, his nose tracing against your skin.

“Don’t act like you couldn’t tell. You know silk always does me in.”

His fingers slip across your stomach where your dress has pooled to rest. They ghost like a whisper over your hips and down your legs until they reach the hem of your skirt. He fits his hands against your skin and drags them up achingly slowly, willing his touch to memorize the feel of your skin along the way as he pushes the fabric up inch by merciless inch- all while never stopping the insatiable way his lips move warm against yours.

His touch and his kiss are languid, unhurried, as he sets you on fire. When he reaches your thighs, his palms splay across them, his thumbs dragging along the inner swell of your legs as your vision begins to blur. 

He’s taking his time. He’s teasing you and enjoying it. It’s evident in the way he slows down the higher he gets. The way his mouth begins to travel down your throat in kisses so soft, so divinely sweet, that you swear you’re growing lightheaded from the swelling rush of pleasure.

His thumbs have made their way to the folds of your hips, his hands hidden beneath the fabric as your body lights up electric at his touch. Like if it shines bright enough for him, he might bless it with all that you know he is capable of. But even though he knows you’re more than willing, your tease doesnt satiate your body or her cravings for him just yet.

Instead, he slows down further. He fits his hands on the outer edges of your hip while his kisses turn gentle, calming, resolving, as if he has no intention of following through further after riling you up like this.

“What are you— why are you stopping?” Your eyes flit between his, a subtle , whining irritation building up beside your impatience when he doesn’t move. He’s quiet at first, in no rush to answer. As his beautiful face hovers over you, he's so smug you almost want to slap him for toying with you like this. 

But that won’t get you what you want. What you need. So Instead, you take one of his hands and press it to your breast as you guide the other toward the center of you.

He plays along at first, until his fingers are about to brush the part of you that’s positively tingling for his touch, and he abruptly pulls back, resting both of his hands on the countertop on either side of you.

“Ah, ah. That’s for when you use your words, my sweet.” He presses a kiss to your cheek, and suddenly, you’ve never been more greedy or more furious. 

Snatching at his waistband, you pull his hips forward and slip your hand over the linen to hold him. His breath catches at the back of his throat, and his eyes go wide, dumbfounded at the shift in power.

“And I said, the judge can’t tell you the answers.”

You level him with a look of quiet confidence as your fingers slip between his skin and the linen to hold him where he wants you most. His brows tip into softened u’s as the coolness of your touch brushes against him.

“Husband of the year should know what I want by now. I shouldn't have to tell him.”

You grasp him, fingers running delicately up the underside of him at the same time that you lick into his mouth. You feel him dip a bit as his knees buckle, making his hands on the counter the only thing holding him up.

“Mother of god,” he mumbles, even as his hips move in compliance with your touch. “Where did you learn that?”

“From the best,” you beam. Your smile is genuine, sweet and blindingly bright. It makes him want to take a bite out of the apples of your cheek, so he does. A playful nip that has you giggling and him pressing his lips together in fondness. 

The moment is sweet, until you catch his eyes with that same saccharine smile on your face, and take your hand away. His mouth opens, about to protest, until he watches you run your tongue in a long, slow stripe up your fingers before reaching back down behind his waistband to run the wet digits over his heated skin as you grasp him.

“Oh my… fuuuuck,” he exhales, his weight dropping to press into the counter. His face dips to lean against yours as he struggles to stay lucid. This feels so good, so out of nowhere, that his body is bursting to life more rapidly that he can keep up with. 

With every movement you make, he moves with you, gasping through his open mouth with every touch as he tries to keep his composure. Leaning into your forehead, he feels his nose bumping against yours as he searches for air. He feels nearly lightheaded but god, you’re incredible. Your touch feels so good- he never wants you to stop. 

Still, he wants control back though. To make you as much of a mewling mess as you’re currently making of him. He was enjoying the game you were both playing before, but he likes the feeling of winning more. However, just when he thinks he’s got a way to get the upper hand back, you ever so lightly twist your grip as you pump him, and suddenly, he can’t tell if he’s dying, ascending or blacking out. 

It feels so good so fast that he can barely remember his own name, let alone stage a coup. Your fingertips gently play with the tip of him at the top of each swell in your fluid flourish, and suddenly he can’t think of anything else to do with all this bursting excess inside of him but to kiss you. So he does. Open mouthed. Sloppy. Full of want. It feels so incredible that you can’t help but laugh brightly into his mouth, ethereally elegant, even as you wreck him. 

As you work, he can feel the way he’s growing harder with your attention, the way his blood feels like it’s singing the longer you touch him. His hips are obeying you like they belong to you, and at this point, he’s pretty sure they do. His mouth is painting your throat, adding swathes of crimson to the blooms he made before until your neck is colored with an entire bouquet of his affection. 

When he closes his eyes, the light behind them sparkles with effervescence as he listens to the quickness of your breath as you work. The sounds, the moans, the gasps you make as you touch him mingle with sounds of early morning nature and Namjoon wonders if this was what the poets meant when they described paradise. 

Pleasure is cresting over him in warm, molten waves now, and as it builds, he realizes he was wrong.

That as much as he loves your luminous eyes, your serene smile, the softness of your breasts, that those aren’t truly his favorite part of you if he’s honest. At least not right now. Not in moments like these. Because right now, with your hand wrapped around him, wrecking him with craving, that title is held by the treasure between your thighs; and as the blood rushes away from the rest of his body and swells where your hand lies, all he can think of, all he wants, is to bury himself in the wet, velvet warmth of you and never leave.

If he doesn’t get you naked with him inside you within the next three seconds, he thinks he might die.

So he does something about it.

“Open, baby. Open your legs for me,” he demands. It’s firm, commanding, but his eyes are so full of needy want that it’s hard to say who’s really in charge right now. 

Pushing your hand away and placing it on his chest, Namjoon kicks down his linen trousers and slides up your dress as you obey. He springs out, the length of him pressing into the meat of your thigh. It has you whimpering before you can catch yourself.

“God, I knew you were a smart boy. You’d figure it out eventually,” your voice is teasing, but your face is so dizzy, so desperate for him, that he could give you the whole world if you asked.

“You ready for me, baby?” His eyes are half blown with lust, his lashes hanging heavy as he runs his fingers over your opening, before collapsing against your shoulder. “ Oh my god.”

“What is it, Joon?”

“Nothing. I just,” he chuckles once, “I don’t think I’ll ever get over how wet you get for me.”

With no hesitation, he slips two fingers inside you as your belly contracts. Gasping his name, you can’t help but cling to him as light shoots through your body at the incredibly welcome feeling of his hands there.

“Nam- Namjoon, ah!” Wrapping your hands around his shoulders, you can feel your nails dig into his sturdy flesh as he begins rocking you with a motion so good, so fluid you fear you may simply float away and never touch the ground again.

“Yes, baby? What is it?” 

“You. I want you. Please.”

“You have me, baby.” His teeth are gritted in focus as he works you, his brow dipped low as he watches how easily you come undone with his attention. Warmth gushes over his fingers as he feels your walls contract in tandem with the tug of your hands in his hair. The sting is sharp and sublime as you grasp him tight with every part of you.

“Inside. Come inside. Need you. Now,” you plead. Your other hand trickles down his torso to the soft hair above his member before holding him firmly with a twist of your hand. He moans, hips canting into your delicate palm.

Namjoon doesn’t need to be told twice. Slipping his fingers out of the way, he scoops you safely to the edge of the island, one large hand stroking himself and guiding him to line up with your eager entrance.

The essence of you coats the tip of him without any effort, your body unfolding, so relaxed for him, as he easily begins to slip inside you. It’s so abundant that the slide is effortless, helping him bottom out almost immediately within you. Your head falls back in wonder as he does, your hands quickly planting against the cold counter to catch you. 

Wow. God, Namjoon’s body always has a tendency to overwhelm you, no matter how many times you get caught up in each other like this. You still can’t get over that. Honestly, it would be impossible to when he’s built like he is. 

He’s broad everywhere- that’s obvious to anyone. But here, he’s long and thick, with thighs like tree trunks powering each movement as he glides inside you. Any other time, you might have needed his help to adjust, for him to take his time to warm you up, but this morning? Your body is ready for him, and he knows it. 

It’s unfolding itself for him like a bloom to the sun, and he’s reverent enough to return its worship. You’re so wet that he can feel it trickling down his hip as he pistons into you, and he regrets not dipping down to sample a taste of it before coming inside. But now that he’s here, there’s absolutely no way he’s leaving the warmth of your walls until you're both falling over and spent.

Your ankles are crossed behind him, pulling him as close as you can get him, and his face is pressed against your neck and collarbone as both your hips work in dizzy tandem. The sensation of it sends his consciousness swirling as the pressure in his abdomen builds.

He’s convinced now that you’re a real, actual goddess. There’s no way you could make him feel this divine if you weren’t. Your ambrosia coats his thickness, spilling over him as he thrusts harder, deeper, tilting his hips to curve against that spot inside you that—

“Oh! God! Joon,” you yelp. “Yes, don’t stop.”

His grin is infectious. You can feel it against your skin as you pull him tighter, rocking in time with him as your euphoria builds. Your laugh is bright, sparkling as he licks his fingers and slips them swirling over the sensitive burst between your legs. Your breath catches, his name and profanity tumbling from your lips in equal measure.

You’re not sure how much more of this you can take. Your senses are on overload, your vision darkening around the edges as the pleasure he paints across your body escalates rapidly. Somewhere far off, you can hear his voice. His mouth is near your ear, his breath cooling your skin that’s become sticky with sweat, but you can’t understand, can’t wrap your brain around what he’s saying…

Until you realize that even fully coherent, you’d still be lost because your forever intoxicating husband has slipped back into his native tongue. You love it when this happens. With his senses so thoroughly drowning in you,  translating language just becomes too hard a thing to manage, so the harder and deeper he goes, the lower the bass in his voice becomes as he mumbles in korean against your ear.

You’ve learned enough to catch words like “beautiful” “perfect” and “God, I love you,” but the rest remain a mystery as he captures the innermost parts of your body for himself with swift, perfect strokes of his hips. The depth he’s reaching right now has you in raptures. It has your breath coming in short gasps as your breasts bounce buoyantly with each...incredible… thrust he delivers.

You won’t last much longer. You know it. And All you can think right now is how badly you want to look in his eyes when you come- which you know will happen any second now.

  Between his touch, his voice, the indescribable way he moves his hips when he’s inside you, and the crescendo you feel from the spot he’s internally caressing right now, you know you’re only moments away from dissolving into the atmosphere, yet all you want is more of him.

“Joon, baby, I’m so close. Look at me. Please,” you move one of the hands supporting you to hold his face and bring it to yours.

God, that please of yours. It flows so naturally from your lips when he has his way with you. He doesn’t know how to describe what it unleashes in him, but he knows it never fails to wreck him. “Shh, let go, baby girl. I’m right here. I got you.” 

Before he can think, he’s kissing you deeply, his tongue insatiable as he tastes you. He alternates between kissing you and pulling back to catch your eyes. The depth of affection in his gaze warms you brilliantly from the inside even as you swear you can practically feel his thrust against the underside of your lungs. 

His once seamless rhythm has become all feel and nuance. All order is long lost as he makes his last powerful dives into the depths of you. You can feel it- the tightness in his body, the firm set in his jaw, the profound depth of his voice as he praises your body in Korean. If you were to die like this, caught up in Namjoon’s impeccably loving, gracious body, you wouldn’t have a single regret.

There’s nothing more you could ask for. 

The glittering sensation pulsing through your body let’s you know it’s almost time to surrender, and you’re ready to come undone. Surely, there could be nothing more blissful than this— until Namjoon takes the hand he’s kept gripped around your waist and slips it up to your throat.

Your eyes go wide. 

He really was paying attention. Husband of the year, indeed. 

And just like that, the express trip to ecstasy nearly slams into your body. His eyes are locked on yours. He’s muttering a soft “good girl” and “that’s it, baby” as he works his powerful hips into you. He has one hand clamped firm and perfect below your jaw along your throat, and the other dancing elegantly along the bundle of nerves between your legs. He takes those fingers into his mouth to wet them, his face crumpling in a satisfied moan at the taste of you on his skin, before slipping them back where they belong. 

It’s altogether too much and you are lit up sparkling as the combined sensation of it all builds with the warmth of his body against you, within you. 

“Come for me, baby,” he says it clear and firm, his touch generous to help ease you over the edge. 

“Only if you come with me,” you breathe. Your eyes meet his as you try to find something to hold on to as the tension in you crests. 

He smiles then. All dimples and sweet eyes and perfect lips. He places a sweet kiss on your cheek beside your lips, and that’s all it takes to ruin you.

You feel your body contract around him in bliss as his name spills from your mouth. Making love to Namjoon has never felt commonplace, but there’s something about today. About him. About the sweetness of this morning in the middle of your perfect hidden home with him that makes you burst not only with pleasure, but with love. 

As your orgasm washes over you, you feel illuminated from within like the sun is glowing out of your skin as your body melts against him.

“I love you,” you whisper. “You’re so perfect.”

As your body floats back down from wherever you just astral projected from bliss, you can feel that his body is just a breath away from tipping over the edge itself. He’s pulling back, pulling out, intending to spill himself elsewhere, but in that instant, you realize you don’t want that.

Your memory flashes back to your wedding day. To the moment those hideous people decided to squawk about your child-rearing, heir-producing duty just hours after your vows, and Namjoon had cut them off immediately at the jump and whispered,” don’t pay them any mind. That happens when you’re ready. Not a second before,” soft against your ear. 

It was one of the first instances that made you realize what a good man he was. How willing he was to put your readiness, your comfort, before anyone or anything else. And now, as you take him in, as you remember how truly and deeply you love him, you realize you’re ready for there to be more.

You’ve had countless discussions with him about starting a family, and everytime, without missing a beat, his answer has always been, “whenever you’re ready, I’m ready.” 

You've come to learn over this past year that he’s wanted nothing more than to become a dad since he was a small boy.

You’ve gotten to witness how fun, gentle and gracious he is with his nephews. With Jimin’s daughter, his sweet godchild. For a year, you’ve watched him be good and kind to any child he meets, patient with you, subdued as he hides the depth of his desire to be a father behind his dimpled smiles and suave redirection when you bring it up. 

He’s been willing to wait for you. He never pushes. He never demands. And in this moment, as you study the face of the incredible man who’s welcomed you into his heart and his home, all you want is to begin the journey to give him what you know he will never ask for, even though it’s what the secret parts of his heart want the most. 

“Namjoon,” you whisper,” don’t. It’s okay. You can finish inside me.” You caress his face lovingly as his eyes go wide. 

“Really? But baby… I… what…” Your eternally eloquent man has gone slack jawed in his loss for words as his hips begin to still.

“It’s okay,” you nod. “I want you to. I want to feel you.” You kiss the dip of his dimple.

“Are you sure? i-“ he stumbles before you lovingly cut him off.

“I think it’s about time we start trying for our family, don’t you?” You whisper. Your fingers thread through his hair, brushing it out of his eyes as his face beams with light. His shoulders and chest are shaking with laughter as his eyes flit between yours and he smiles.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” His hands slip up to cradle your face, the most beautiful mixture of excitement and relief and the purest joy making his misty eyes look brilliant in the early light.

“Absolutely,” your voice is soft as you tip your nose against his. Your smile is all pearls and laughter as you reach to grab the full apples of his ass and push him into you.

He’s laughing and smiling and gasping when you do, before happily resuming the final few thrusts he would need to send himself over the edge.

“Use me, baby,” you whisper, eyes alight with the gentle seduction that always ruins him. “I want to feel you when you finish.”

Biting his lip, he swallows and nods, almost too eager, but you’re beautiful and warm and you’ve gotten so tight around him and he can’t help himself. He’s close. He’s already soo close. He’s spent nearly this whole morning trying to contain himself inside you despite the absolutely mind numbing feel of you, and here you are telling him to let go? It’s impossible that you’re real.

Pulling his face to you, he realizes you’re kissing him. Your honey sweet tongue has made a home in his mouth. Your soft breasts brush his chest with every thrust. Your hands are clutching his back and in his hair. Your heels pressed into the back of his legs to pull him close, and now he knows you want to carry his baby.

To allow your body to grow and change just to hold his seed, start his family and realize his dream of not only being a husband to you but a dad to your babies. He’s so in love with you. So maddeningly, ridiculously, stupidly, over the moon in love with you, and all at once, it’s happening.

His release is coming, strong and quick, and he can finally drown in the feeling of it happening while you surround him. His body is reeling at the burst of perfection he feels from losing himself in you like this. The cloud like swells of your thighs pressing around him might very well be the only thing holding him up.

“Oh my god. Oh my god, I love you.” His face is buried in your neck, your chest, your hair, your cheeks- everything all at once- his full lips dropping kisses on your skin like stars falling from heaven. 

When he pulls back to look at you, he can’t even put what he’s feeling into words. But it’s okay. Because you know. He can see it in your eyes.

Cradling his face, you smile up at him, eyes glossy and happy. “You ready?” 

“To have a baby with you?” His voice falters as his smile grows so wide his eyes nearly disappear. “There isn’t anything I want more.”

Pressing his forehead to yours as he hugs your waist, you both press your noses together and laugh. Overcome with something almost too sweet to simply be called happiness. The word seems too small to encompass it all.

“Maybe I’m not husband of the year yet, cause I definitely didn’t see that coming.” He chuckles.

“Oh shut up. I know you felt how you made me finish. You’re just showing off at this point.”

“I can’t have my baby girl leave anyway but satisfied with me.” He winks, and you smack his chest lightly.

“I’d be mad at you for being so smug if you weren’t actually as great as you think you are,” you scrunch your nose at him as he laughs.

“Well, if there are any areas of improvement I can work on, let me know. I hear I'm about to have a lot of time to workshop your suggestions.” Namjoon lovingly nips at your collarbone, and you tingle in bliss at the thought of how many more moments like this lie in your near future.

“Duly noted. On that note then, I feel compelled to point out that what you just did counted as an excellent submission for husband of the year.”

“Oh really?” He licks his lips slowly as you nod.

“Remember- you can make as many entries as you want.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah. Limitless,” you assent. 

“Good to know. I’ll keep it mind,” he smirks, dipping down to lift the fullness of one of your breasts into his hand as he gently kisses the top of the swell of flesh. You sigh into his kiss. This is going to be a spectacular journey— you can already tell.

“Namjoon.”

“Hmm?” His eyes perk up, though his mouth never leaves its preoccupation with your bare chest.

“Is this… is this okay? I hope I didn’t spring this on you too soon or… I don’t know...too out of the blue? Because your comfort is important too, and I—“

You’re swiftly cut off by the sweet press of Namjoon’s delicious lips against yours. “Shh. Yes, I want this. More than anything.”

“So my timing wasn’t—“

“No. It was perfect. You’re perfect,” he kisses the tip of your nose as your lips bloom into a smile. “And if we are going to try to fill that cute belly of yours with a baby, then maybe… maybe this shouldn’t just be a weekend visit.”

Tipping your head to look at him, you feel your brows scrunch. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, this has always been our getaway spot. A place to stay safe and lie low when things get jumpy in the city. A place to take you when we want to be alone. Truly be alone. But if…” he hesitates, lacing your hand with his and pressing a kiss to the back of it. “If you’re going to be carrying my baby, I want to keep you safe. I promised you that the day I met you- I’d never let anything happen to you. It’s been risky enough to have you in the city all this time as it is.”

“So...what exactly are you suggesting, love?” You run your thumb lovingly over his knuckles.

“I’m proposing if you do get pregnant, we move you out here. Permanently. Or at least somewhat long term.”

“Wait…” you pull away, eyes clouding as you do. “Alone? Without you?”

“No. No. I didn’t word that right. I’d be here as much as i can, and I’d send the security detail to stay out here whenever I have to leave so—“

“Namjoon, I don’t want to be all the way out here by myself. Surely, that’s not necessary.”

He frowns as he tries to gather his thoughts. “This is coming out wrong...You wouldn’t be fully by yourself. I’d be here as much as I can. I just... want you protected. Safe. And out of the city while you're carrying something so precious.” The backs of his knuckles graze your stomach. 

“But I don’t understand. Why—“

“I don’t want anyone to hurt you.” His voice has turned solemn, his eyes an odd shade of vulnerability when they meet yours. 

“Joon, nobody’s gonna do anything. You’ve made that city so secure-nobody could hurt me even if they tried.”

Something stormy and troubled clouds his eyes.It makes you wonder if there are things he hasn’t told you. Things he’s kept to himself to ensure that your life is as peaceful as possible. You wonder what kind of darkness he’s had to swallow for your sake. 

“But they have tried.”

It's news to you. 

“What do you mean… when?” 

“It’s happened a few times. Nothing ever got far enough to warrant bringing it up.”

“What on earth? Joon, why in the world wouldn’t you tell me that?” 

He sighs once, from some deep place in his bones. “Because i never wanted to have to see the look in your eyes that I do right now.”

Suddenly, any anger you held vanishes all at once. 

“Baby, why are you carrying something like that all by yourself?”

“So you don’t have to. I promised I’d keep you safe, and I meant it. That includes taking care of your peace of mind. Something you won’t have if you knew how many times someone’s shot off at the mouth about coming for you because they’re irate at me or how many times someone has done more than just talked and actually tried.”

It’s a sobering thought.

“Is that… is that the real reason why you never pushed for an heir?” For reasons you can’t explain, the idea makes you want to cry. Namjoon sees the shift immediately, his fingers ready to brush your tears before they even fall.

“Shhh, hey. No. I mean, it’s part of it. You know all I’ve ever wanted was to be a parent. When I married you, please know the idea of you being the mother of my children sent me over the moon, but I know this world. How people take what they want. Do what they want. I wanted better for you.” He runs his fingers soft over your cheek like you’re some spun glass artifact he needs to protect. 

“I wanted to be better for you than the men in this world were going to give you. I promised myself that I was never going to demand anything from you. That’s why I didn’t push for an heir. I meant it when I said we go at your pace. Always.”

Sniffling, you look up at him through wet lashes. 

“Joon, protecting me doesn’t mean you hide the truth from me.”

“Not even if it would hurt you? Scare you?”

“I knew what I was signing up for when I agreed to marry you. It’s so kind of you to try to take these burdens so I don’t have to, but then who carries them for you? That’s my job. You have to let me do it.”

Closing his eyes, he exhales long and slow through his nose. 

“You really mean it, don’t you? You really want to know.”

“Yes,” you nod, caressing his face. He looks troubled. You’d give anything to help take some of his cares away.

“Then you should know why we came to the villa this weekend.”

“So it wasn’t just for a getaway?” You brace yourself for whatever it is you’re about to hear.

“It is, and it isn’t. I guess I have to go back a bit for this to make any sense, but my family isn’t from here. You know that. Our roots don’t go back as many generations as yours do, so when the new kid on the block started gaining power in this city faster than anyone had seen before, there were a lot of families that weren’t happy about it.

Especially not when the daughter of one of the oldest families in the city became my bride. There had already been a lot of grumbling against me before I made such a powerful ally, and there were certainly plenty after. Anything we’d stumbled on over the last few months had been mostly hearsay, but…”

“What is it, Joon?” You're worried now. You can hear the way his voice sounds choked.

“There was a deal that went wrong a few weeks back. Just a skirmish with some lower level captains that got out of control, but I thought I’d put a pin in it. Turns out the other family involved hadn’t let it go like I thought …” he stops, eyes going cold as color drains from his face.

“Baby, it’s okay. You can tell me,” you reassure. 

Closing his eyes, he licks his lips and takes a deep breath, his voice lower, raspier when he continues. “There was a hit put out on you this past week.

You’re shocked. “There— what?”

”It’s okay now. Jungkook caught intel on it soon enough that he crushed it before the people responsible could hurt you, but I've never seen anyone get this close. Y/n, I couldn't breathe when he told me. When I found out, I nearly lost my mind. I called you immediately to make sure you were safe— I couldn’t breathe til I heard your voice.”

You had no idea he’d been through that. You can’t imagine what you would have done if the roles were reversed, if you’d been seconds away from losing him. It would’ve shattered you. You’re not sure how he’s still standing.

“Once I knew you were okay, the first thing I could think was that I needed to get you out of town as fast as I possibly could. Something’s building in that city, y/n. The lower families are tired of their rank. They’re itching to get back any sort of power they can- it’s making them reckless. There’s rumors of a war building…I’d dismissed it so far. Didn’t think they were a real threat until they had the nerve to try something like this. We squashed it, but this was too close, and I’m not willing to risk you.”

Realization dawns across your face. “That’s why we left with less than an hour's notice. I’d thought you were just being romantic about a weekend getaway but ...That’s why we came to this safe house and not the one on the edge of town, isn’t it?”

His eyes fall away as he nods, “That’s why our security detail was thicker than usual.”

“But I've hardly seen anyone.”

“That’s on purpose. I didn’t want to scare you.  Didn't want to draw attention to a whole parade leaving town so I had them follow us at a distance. They’re stationed all around the property and schooled to stay out of sight.”

“What about the boys? Was it safe to have them here this weekend with their wives? Their girlfriends? Didn’t we put them in danger?” Your rounded eyes betray the sudden guilt you feel for what you thought had been such a beautiful night.

“Shh, no. Hey, they’re fine. I had them all moved out to safe houses not too far from here with a security detail on them too. They’re just a few miles from here. That’s why I didn’t feel bad about them driving out last night- they didn’t have to go all the way back to the city, just to our guest houses and then their safe houses in the morning….I’m having them all lie low for a little while. Figured they’d want their girlfriends and wives as close to their side as I want mine. Thought having them over was a good distraction for a night.”

You had no idea. Something cold runs up your spine at the thought that this weekend, this beautifully perfect day could’ve been so different. Or perhaps not even happened at all. 

Slipping your dress back into place, you cover yourself. It feels wrong to have this conversation half naked. Namjoon seems to sense it too as he pulls his pants back on. He offers to help ease you down from the counter, picking you up and placing you gently on the whitewashed floorboards, making sure you’re steady before he lets you go. 

Under any other circumstances, you’d laugh at how he has to make you sure you’re stable enough not to keel over where you stand after blessing you with an orgasm so bright it makes your soul radiate around your body. Now though, you find your hand cradling your lower belly, feeling entirely naive for thinking now was the time to bless the world with Namjoon’s child. You should say something, but the words get stuck in your throat…. you feel like a fool.

“I’m gonna make us some coffee, yeah? You want a cup?” Namjoon offers softly. When you look up, he looks so worn out all of a sudden. Like he’s somehow aged years during the course of this conversation. Like he really does need a cup of coffee, if not something stronger.

“Sure, baby. I’ll take one.”

Nodding, he presses a kiss to your forehead before he plugs in the black gooseneck kettle you’d gotten him for his birthday. The gift had been simple, thoughtful, and if he was honest, it was the best present anyone had ever given him.

He practically survives on black coffee most days. At the beginning of your marriage, he was always long gone before you rose most mornings, so in an attempt to slow him down and have more time with him, you’d gotten him a pour over set and a gooseneck kettle to replace his old instant apparatus.

He wondered if you were aware of all the additional gifts it had given him along the way....It required time to steep and brew. Time he’d never given himself before he met you. The methodology of it soothed him, provided his mornings with a small structure and routine he’d never had in a lifestyle marked by so much chaos. 

Taking the time to make his absolutely necessary coffee this way helped wake him up gently, slowed him down enough for you to have the time to slip out of bed and catch him before he was gone, to hold him while he prepared it. To remind him of the precious reason he needed to be careful while he was out that day. 

As the water boils, he turns his back to you. He feels himself melt when your arms wind around him. Softly, you press a kiss between his shoulder blades before your touch slips away as quietly as it appeared. The subtle sounds of your footsteps fading as you walk away and the gentle buzzing of the kettle are all that fill the room in the silence between you.

Namjoon sighs as he turns, his arms crossed as he leans against the counter to watch you.  Without a word, you silently procure a hearty loaf of fresh,crusty bread from the pantry and begin to slice it for breakfast. As your head tips down in concentration, he watches your untamed hair fall in your eyes. It’s beautiful the way it frames your face. It makes something squeeze in the center of his chest.

Crossing the room, he comes to stand beside you, lightly brushing your hair back into place for you with his hand. You still in your task, closing your eyes and leaning into his touch.

“Namjoon?”

“Yes, baby?” 

“If it’s this dangerous…” your voice is barely above a whisper, “this unsafe… does that mean we shouldn’t have a baby?” When you look up at him, your eyes are starlit with tears. Your hands are trembling, and he hates to see you so sad.

“No. You’re ready, and I want a family,”’he soothes.

“But… but if there’s this much risk, how can our child ever have a normal life? Won’t we always be afraid for them all the time? Is that selfish? To make a life that has to live in this world just because we want them to?”

He brushes his fingers over the cascade of teardrops starting to fall from your eyes. “All parents have to worry about that, y/n. This world is still a scary place even outside my line of work.”

“I know. But they don’t have to worry about a hit on their child’s life or a ransom or generation’s old grudges putting their child at risk....They just have to worry about whether or not a child in their daughter’s class has a peanut allergy because little ashley will only eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches right now and nothing else.”

You’re talking with your hands as Namjoon gives you a smile that’s equally warm and sad. “That’s a really specific scenario.”

“I went through a phase in first grade, okay?”

He finds your eyes until you laugh before pulling you in tight against his chest. “First of all, that’s adorable. We’ll address that again later because little y/n sounds incredibly cute. And secondly,” he sighs,” you grew up in this world- the same as me- and we both survived. Having a child is expected of us, yes, but if that’s not what you want... it doesn’t have to happen. But, if we both want one… if being a mom will make you happy, then I’m going to find a way to give you that.” There’s a heaviness about him right now. An authority resigned to accept whatever fate weighs on your heart the most as he watches your eyes fill with questions.

“But won’t we be afraid for them all the time? I feel so naive for only thinking of how much I’d like to meet them, how much I’d love them just because they’re a part of you, when I should have known better.”

“That’s not naive. That’s beautiful. No matter what they’re like, we’ll love them. Because they’re ours.”

“What if they don’t want any part of this world? They should have a choice… but can I even give them one or will their only option be serving as the new head of the Kim family one day?” Your face looks stricken. “Did you get to choose?” Your watery eyes flit up to his. 

He swallows, face stony as you survey him. “I did what I had to do so our life can look however we want it to,” he’s sighing again, worn out out by memories you may never see. “Look, you’re my wife, and I’m your husband. As far as I’m concerned, we’re the ones get to decide what’s right for us, y/n. I’ve told you that, and I meant it- that extends to our children too. Their lives don’t have to look like what anyone else wants but them. I don’t care if they want to be painters or accountants or captains in the family. They get to shape the life they want. That’s what I’ve worked so hard for.”

You feel your eyes flutter shut in relief on their own accord. Of course he’s already thought this through to this degree. When has your Namjoon ever done anything less? It soothes your mind to know he’s taken the time to lay the groundwork so you don’t have to. Still though, questions you’re ashamed didn't occur to you sooner rattle through your head and spill from your mouth.

“Do they have to spend their life in boarding school like I did? Are our only options to send them away or be scared for them every day?

“Y/n, no. We’ll find what works for our family. I want that with you- figuring that out and watching them grow. I’ll keep you both safe. However I have to. I promise you.” His thumb brushes over your ring as he holds your hand against his chest. “I promised you.”

And just like that, it hits you all over again- how much you love this man. How deeply you trust him with every fiber of your being. How you couldn’t have found a better man to love you if you’d tried. You two are it for each other- you’ve known it since the day you met him on the steps.

“It’s going to be okay,” he whispers, kissing your knuckles,”... but, y/n?”

Your eyes flit up to meet his. “Yes, love ?”

“I meant what I said. If this is all too much, if this scares you, we can wait.” His brown eyes are so deep and sincere. You know every part of him means it, and it’s precisely because of that, that you say the words you do.

“No. I want this. All of this. With you. We’ll figure this out,” you nod, gently pulling the back of his neck down so your foreheads are touching. “I want to have a baby with you. I’m all in, if you are.”

You can feel the rush of tension that leaves his body. He wraps you in his arms, so close and secure, and something innocent comes from him that you don’t think you’ve ever heard.

“God, you know I am. Thank you.”

His voice is as robust and full as always, but his eyes… there’s something so young and soft and terrified in them. Like the weight of all he’s been carrying alone has crashed down on him all at once. “I’m so excited to have a baby with you if it happens. And it’s okay if it doesn’t. But I can’t wait to try.”

You’re nodding and crying, and you realize something that perhaps has never dawned on you before. This is the first time you’ve seen him truly this vulnerable. He’s always so strong, so composed. Too busy holding up an entire empire and caring for you to let his walls fully fall. 

But as he buries his face in your neck, you suddenly feel dampness pooling against your skin and realize he’s crying. You wonder how you got here on a morning that had been so serene and full of bliss. Bliss you now realize has come at a price.

“I was so scared I'd lost you the day we came here.” Slipping your hand into his hair, the other soothes his back as he clings to you tighter. “I'm so glad you’re okay. You’re so smart. I know you are. You don’t make reckless mistakes when you’re out— you take good care of yourself— but I was so afraid. My heart dropped when Jungkook told me what he’d heard. He couldn’t calm me down until I heard your voice on the phone.”

Stroking his hair, you recall the phone call just a few days ago. How strangled and out of breath he’d sounded. How you’d asked if he was okay, and he’d simply said he was now.

“It’s okay. I’m right here. It’s okay.” 

He takes a moment to collect himself, pressing you so close you may fuse together. It’s unguarded, and precious. Something you know both of you treasure as he nuzzles into your skin in that space along your neck where his face perfectly fits.

It’s as simple as that. You both stay like this for as long as you can, secure in his embrace, your breathing settling until it’s nearly in sync. It’s peaceful for you, cathartic for him. It’s a moment framed by a different kind of intimacy than the one you both shared in this very room less than an hour ago. 

He shows no sign of letting you go until the kettle begins to howl for him from across the room. When he does, his fingers trace the silk fabric along your waist as his lips kiss your forehead. He takes one more heavy breath before he squeezes you in release to tend to the coffee.

“Cream and sugar?” He asks, his voice thicker than usual.

“Always,” you answer.

And so the morning resets itself. 

The day shifts into afternoon. The sun drifting higher, brighter, casting the shadows and ridges of Namjoon’s sculpted body in almost Grecian relief as he carefully pours the water for both of you over the coffee grounds. You finish slicing the crackling bread loaf and bring it to the table to place it beside the remnants of Seokjin’s charcuterie board. 

It’s only when you catch sight of your lacy table cloth that you remember the accident that started the whole morning to begin with. You’d both gotten so preoccupied with each other that you never made it any further than cleaning his shirt and not the rest of the disaster.

Smiling to yourself, you gently slide the cloth off the table and fill the sink with cold water to soak it. Looking over at your husband, you realize wine stains still swirl over the front of Namjoon’s linen pants. There’s a very good chance those are fully set now, but just in case, you might as well try to fix them. 

So, gently, you hook a finger into his waistband and tug. “Let me have these.”

“Round two all ready? Greedy girl.” He winks, his voice soft as follows the drip of his Colombian roast.

“No, smart girl. We did a terrible job of getting you cleaned up.” You pop the p at the end of the word as you snap the elastic on his pants.

Looking a bit lost, Namjoon glances down to see the lovely pastel splashes of rosé running clean down the front of his pants. He’d been too busy to notice once you’d gotten him out of them. Blushing for no reason other than the embarrassment of you having to clean up his foibles, Namjoon dips down to remove the trousers, leaving himself looking statuesque and unreasonably gorgeous in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs in the afternoon light as he tends to the coffee.

You feel terribly immature over how quickly affected you are by the sight of him in his current predicament and carefully take the pants from him, only to turn abruptly in search of some fresh air and relief. Namjoon catches your equally flustered state, smiling to himself, but doesn’t acknowledge it out loud. This spell of quiet that’s settled over the room is too peaceful to break.

Once the coffee’s done, he brings both your cups to the broad heirloom table, and you enjoy breakfast… or, he supposes, brunch at this point...together in the stillness. Every bite you take is piled high with prosciutto and fig while Namjoon drizzles honey on his slices of bread. 

It’s peaceful, idyllic. Tranquil enough to forget the world that awaits him back in the city.

It’s funny, the duality of his life. How easy it becomes in moments like these to lean into the simplicity of breakfast with his lover and ignore the undulating danger and uncertainty awaiting him in the rest of his world. It makes him realize how much he’s come to covet exchanges like this when he gets to feel like you’re just two people in love and nothing else. 

As his eyes trace over you, he promises himself to do everything in his power to make sure your life with him is hallmarked by sweet pockets like these. As many of them as he can give you. 

At some point Namjoon pushes up to get the carafe of orange juice from the fridge, and after assigning your more capable hands the job of opening the champagne, you both polish off your brunch with the tinkling clink of your toasting mimosa glasses. 

Once your bellies are full and satiated, Namjoon looks up at you. His elbows are propped up on the table, chin contentedly resting in his hands. There’s a question hidden in the corner of his lips as his eyes glisten with mischief.

“So… what else do you have in mind for your agenda today, my bride?” He reaches across the table to grab your hand, kissing the back of your palm as you giggle and roll your eyes.

“Well if you must know... I'm thinking I might give my sister a call. See if she’d be willing to come pay me visit.” You offer, pushing one of the last grapes around the corner of the board, avoiding the way Namjoon’s eyes shine. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” you shrug nonchalantly. “Maybe she could come stay in one of the guest houses. Potentially. Once I move out here. Whenever that may be.” 

“So my baby won’t be alone when I’m gone?” His dimples are popping in his cheeks as his smile spreads wide. It’s a brilliant idea to bring her out here with you until Namjoon can finesse a way to be by your side 24/7. He wonders why he didn’t think of it sooner. Probably because you’re as smart as you are beautiful. 

“Neither of your babies.” You crinkle your nose as you smile back at him. 

“I like the sound of that,” he’s beaming back at you, happy and light. His eyes are misty with emotion he can’t hide, and it only makes you love him more.

“Me too.”

“So, how would you feel about getting to work as soon as possible then?” His eyebrows bounce salaciously your way, and you can’t help but giggle.

“Is that what you want?” 

“If it’s what you want. Always.” Namjoon licks his lips and a crackle of electricity shoots up your spine. The parallels to how this morning started are not lost on you. It makes something in you thrill with excitement.

“Well, I would love to take a bath. Our activity this morning was excellent, but I must say you left a bit of a sticky mess in your wake.” 

“Sorry,” Namjoon ducks his head bashfully.

“So I’m going to break in that beautiful clawfoot tub and fill it to the brim with matcha bubble bath.”

“Mmm. With the orange blossom bath salts too?”

“Always,” you wink as Namjoon bites his lip.

“God, you always smell so good when you use that. It makes your skin so soft.” The thought of your skin fragrant and bare has his blood stirring again as his eyes rake over you.

“Well you are welcome to keep me company and read to me while I soak,” you offer nonchalantly as you walk away. You can feel his eyes on your hips as you round the corner, quickly followed by the sound of his bare feet against the floorboards.

“Or I could join you in the water.”

When he responds, his voice is closer than you expected it to be. He’s caught up to you so quickly with those long legs of his.

“Or you could finish the chapter of the book you were reading to me on the way up. You left me on such a cliffhanger when your hands got distracted on the drive. I’m dying to know what happens next.”

Biting his lip, that wicked gleam is back in his eyes at the memory of the drive up and the things the two of you got up to in the privacy of the tinted, shielded back seat.

“Fair enough, but I get to join after.” His hand is forceful where it slips across your waist. You tumble into him, wanting nothing more than to let him win and start this game all over again, but you had a feeling you were winning this round, and you like to win.

“I can promise you no such thing. We’ll just have to see how the day goes,” you shrug, dismissing him completely to climb the stairs.

As much as he enjoys the view, Namjoon loves the play for dominance more: it’s cute on you. Too bad he’s still got the upper hand. He catches you on the stairwell, turning you around to face him. His hand ghosts down the front of your silk draped stomach directly to the dip between your legs.

 He places enough pressure to catch your sensitivity there, smiling something wicked at the sound of your sharp inhale. He already knows how delicate you are after you’ve already finished once until he warms your body up again. The prospect of starting this dance all over again has him stiffening with delight against your leg when he feels the familiar slip of your essence help the fabric glide beneath his touch.

“Oh baby girl, you have no idea how well this day is gonna go.” His voice has dipped to an octave reserved only for the devil as he smiles at you and lifts you off the stairs and into his arms.

You squeal at the suddenness of it, wrapping your arms securely around his neck so you don’t fall. He just chuckles, something throaty and dark, as he carries you up the stairs and down the hall to the sunlit bathroom. 

Setting you on the counter, he turns to start the bath- scooping in bath salts, pouring your bubbles, raising the blinds so the room is flooded with light. He doesn’t want to miss a single look on your beautiful face when he has his way with you for a second time today.

Not once has it occurred to you to move from the spot where he put you. Instead, you sit perfectly still on the bathroom counter, feeling your nails dig into your palms, your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you watch him. Your pulse is already thrumming with anticipation all over again. 

When he turns back to you, you can see clear evidence of his arousal reshaping itself beneath his black briefs, and suddenly, despite your meal, there’s something else entirely that you want in your mouth. He catches the hungry way your eyes follow him as he walks back to you.

“Can I help you, baby?” His laugh is warm, even if his eyes are sinister. It’s all you can do just to nod your head and slip your fingers forward to tug at his waistband. When it begins to fall, you slip down to the floor, catching him off guard entirely. Not in a million years did Namjoon didn't plan on this course of events, but he certainly isn't unhappy about it. 

Namjoon leans back against the counter in the spot you’d just been sitting in as your hands grasp onto the muscular ridges of his toned legs. You set to work kissing his golden skin on his thighs slowly, indulgently, enjoying yourself as you go. 

You’ve always been weak in the knees for his absurdly gorgeous legs. They’ve only gotten more toned in the last year just like the rest of him, and between his dimples, his arms, his chest, and his legs, it’s hard to know where to begin. Or it would be if there wasn’t something hard and beautiful staring you in the face.

Namjoon is in heaven watching this unfold from above. When you slip him into your mouth, he feels all his rational thought go dark. He’s helpless to do anything but cave in. God, the two of you are like rabbits, but honestly, how can you not be when you make him feel like this? He begins to lose himself in the soft rhythm you create, something lazy and hypnotic, that makes him feel weightless.

He can barely hold himself, but every second is worth it. All he can do is luxuriate in the way you take your time as you bless him. At least, that’s how he always thinks of it because it’s truly nothing short of divine. 

He can’t tell if it’s been a few minutes or an eternity when all of a sudden, you’re abruptly letting him slip from your mouth with a pop and a sultry smile. The cool air rushing against him nearly startles him in the wake of the warmth he’d been cocooned in while your tongue did its incredible work. Because just as quickly as you started, you’re gone. 

He realizes then that the floor is wet. Apparently, You’d both gotten so lost in each other that the water in the tub had spilled over its edges and he hadn’t even noticed. Also, at some point during all this, you must have slipped out of your dress, because you’re lowering yourself into the water now as bare as you were on your wedding night.

Namjoon swallows. His body is ramping with endorphins, and he’s so worked up it nearly hurts. As he makes his way to the tub, you stop him with a dainty hand against his lower stomach.

“Ah, ah. I asked you to read to me.” 

Your eyes are coquettishly round as you bat them up at him. He’s tempted to scoff.

“Are you serious right now? Aren’t we in the middle of something?” His face is serious, focused as he eyes your breasts floating in the water amidst the matcha- scented bubbles.

You push back against his stomach again. “Yes, we were… in the middle of that last chapter. Book. Please.”

There it is again. The “please” he’s always been so enamored by. The “please” that’s usually the product of your need for him. The one he’s so infatuated with that he’d do anything to satisfy it. The one that, up until now, he’d thought you were unaware of, yet here you are using it against him.

That’s when he knows he’s trained you too well. There’s pride sparkling in your eyes as you look up at him, and he can’t believe it. Running a hand down his face, he shakes his head at you. What has he gotten himself into with you?

“ If that’s the way you want to play it, fine,” he squints at you with playful derision. “But I’m reading to you in the tub with you when I come back.”

“Oh please do,” you coo, batting your lashes at him.

Oh, you’re good. 

Namjoon can’t help but laugh at himself as he walks to the bedroom to collect the book. When he met you a year ago- the blushing, soft spoken girl who was too nervous to meet his eyes- he definitely never would have thought that a year later you’d be sending him down the hallway fully naked and half hard to fetch your literature for you while you float in a bath. He wonders when he got so wrapped around your finger like this, but if he’s honest, he doesn’t mind.

You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

 Being with you is the best his life has ever been. He’ll forever be grateful, that against all odds, you agreed to marry a man who was nearly a perfect stranger and create a life with him.

As he walks back to the bathroom, Namjoon catches a glimpse of your rosy smile flashing his way, peeking at him beyond the wall of bubbles. It fills his chest with something buoyant and light as he makes his way back to you.

There’s absolutely nowhere he’d rather be.

As he sinks down in the water behind you, more displaces, splashing out across the white wood beams and dousing your hair in the process. He apologizes profusely but instead of getting mad, you simply slip the rest of the way under the water to finish the job. When you resurface, you’re laughing so happily that your smile is the brightest thing in the room, putting even the afternoon sunlight to shame.

He pulls you to him, affection for you glowing warmly in his chest as you settle between his legs and look up at him. He kisses your forehead, his heart filled with contentment, before reaching forward to dry his hands on the closest available towel and thumbing through the book until he finds the page he marked.

The two of you stay that way until the chapter is finished and the book is closed. Until the bubbles all dissolve and the water’s gone cold. Even then, once the water is drained, you still stay wrapped in a tangle of Namjoon’s long limbs as you twist to kiss him and kiss him and kiss him.

Eventually he straightens out his legs to allow you to climb into his lap so he can find his way home again and slip inside you. Your bodies are swathed in the golden light illuminating the room as the two of you go effortlessly slow and unhurried, taking your time . 

Namjoon sinks into you, lost in the beauty of you and your connection. 

This time, your session together is marked in emotion and security. 

He knows how much you want to start a family with him, and you know how special it was for him to let his walls down, to let you know how scared he was to lose you. Both of you are in awe of not only how attracted you are to each other, but also of the caliber of human you’re currently sharing your bodies with, of how transcendent love making can feel when your hearts and hopes are as interwoven in the act as they now are with all your cards on the table.

When Namjoon finishes this time, it’s in sync with you. It’s the first time that happened for the two of you in tandem. As your eyes search his, you're both aware that this shared state of bliss is nothing short of miraculous. As story-worthy as this act has always been between the two of, this time feels different. Markedly so.

Perhaps, it’s because you’ve both dropped your guards enough to fully let the other in, in a way you hadn’t uncovered before. If the crashing of his heartbeat has anything to say about it, Namjoon would probably guess that you've both sunken so deep into each other that it was impossible for the crescendo of your orgasms  not  to crest all at once for the both of you.

Once you’ve gathered yourself enough to speak, you watch Namjoon with dazed eyes, in awe that someone as incredible as him even exists, let alone that you get to call him yours. As he slips out of you, the warmth of his seed flows out between your thighs, and some ridiculous part of you can’t help but smile.

Namjoon catches it too, and leans forward to kiss you. 

“You’re gonna be a great mom, you know that?”

Your eyes flash to meet his. Your body is spent, your emotions are big and at this point, your heart feels so filled to the brim with affection for him that you fear it won’t fit in your body anymore.

“They’re gonna be the luckiest kids in the world to have you for a dad,” you whisper with shining eyes as you touch his chest.

He dips his head, smiling so exorbitantly wide that it consumes his whole face, and all you can think is that you can’t wait to see that dimpled grin shining back at you from the face of a little boy or little girl down the road.

“By the way,” you begin as his gaze perks back up to meet yours. “You should know that we’ve tallied the votes for husband of the year.”

“Oh really?” His brows lift attentively. “Should I pack it up? Is it time to let the dream go? Surely it’s not going to a rookie this year.”

“You’d be surprised,” you tip your head. Taking his hands you place them so they’re cradling your chest. “On behalf of the board and the esteemed academy, it is my honor to present the award of husband of the year to you, Kim Namjoon.”

As he throws his head back, he bursts into a bright fit of laughter and mock cheering like you’re both surrounded by a make believe crowd. 

“Oh my goodness,” he squeezes your breasts in his palm like the globes are irreplaceable awards. “I would just like to thank all the people around the world who supported me and believed me, who shined the light of their support on me even on days when this seemed bleak. We couldn’t have made it here without you guys. This award belongs to all of you.”

He waves to the imaginary audience he’s created before pressing your breasts together and happily burying his smiling face between them. He mumbles something you can’t understand that gets lost in the downy softness of your chest as you laugh at him.

“What are you even saying down there?”

“I’m thanking the people who got me here.” He eyes you soberly like that should be obvious before breaking character and cackling at how ridiculous this is. “I can’t believe we really kept this joke going all day.”

“I can’t believe I got in the tub to clean up the mess you left earlier only to now, once again, be sticky with dried up mess.” You look ruefully between your legs.

“Hey, hey, that mess may very well become your child.” He tuts as you grin and narrow your eyes at him. 

“I don’t think that’s how this works.”

“Semantics,” he shrugs, kissing your nose. You can’t help your eye roll that follows. “Hey,” he breathes, eyes suddenly serious.

“Yes, love?” 

“Please know, whatever happens, I’ll always love you, and I’ll always take care of you. Both of you, if we’re so lucky.” The tips of his fingers rest against your lower belly, and yep. You were right. Your heart bursts clean out of your chest. You can feel the way your eyes glisten, happiness spilling from them as you get lost in Namjoon’s smile.

“I know you will, Joon. I know you will.”

-fin.

#btswritersguild #btswriterscollective #btswritersclub #Kim Namjoon smut #Kim Namjoon fluff #Kim Namjoon angst #Namjoon mafia au #rm smut #rm mafia au #Kim Namjoon arranged marriage au #BTS smut #BTS mafia au #black silk #champagne silk #my writing #BTS angst #BTS fluff #BTS fic #BTS fic series #BTS one shot #Kim Namjoon x reader #Kim Namjoon x you #rm x reader #rm x you

[oh-for-fic-sake]

They Hung Up

Masterlist

Summary: August can always fix your problems, especially when someone is ripping off his princess.

Warnings: fluff, ddlg, daddy kink

A/n: inspired by my chat with ebay this morning. Apparantly ebay will charge buyers import and customs VAT on items that aren't even being imported into the country... or going through customs. And they don't charge this at checkout they only charge it when they take the actually money. When i told the lady thats stealing your taking more then the agreed amount from my bank she hung up on me telling me to 'speak to the tax office'

Taglist: in reblogs.

"No but you cant charge import tax on something that isn't being imported.... No they cant that's illegal look I just want my money beck for the tax-what do you mean no?!... Hello? Hello?" You could have cried you were so angry and upset. You closed locked your phone screen and sniffed shaking your head in frustration.

"Princess what's wrong?" You snapped your head to your daddy, august was scowling. You could see the aggravated look as he took in your tears. Your daddy never liked you wasting them on other people. Your sweet pure tears were only meant to be shed for him! Every droplet was his to pull from you, be it tears of rapturous pleasure or shed from being spanked for being naughty.

"August? I? they hung up on me!" You hissed quickly running over to him tucking yourself into his thick frame pressing your head into his chest trying to soak in the smell of his aftershave. The spicy scent was heady and a little overbearing, you could tell why. Under the spice was the metallic twang of blood and deep sooty smell of fired bullets. You both loved and hated it, as safe as it made you feel remembering just who and what he was if frightened you, one day he could be hurt.

"Who? Sweetpea?" He purred softly needing to calm you down before he could make heads roll. His arms encircled you squeezing you tightly and he rested his chin on your head the  began swaying with you slowly.

"The support desk! They charged import tax! And nothing was imported! Daddy I was careful and-and I checked and double checked there was no warning not on check out or nothin' then they took another ten dollars on top and now my bank is angry and charging me for going over!" You said quickly panicked that he would be mad at you for spending too much again.

"Okay pumpkin slow down... Tell daddy what's going on slowly... Don't miss anything out okay angel" he said pulling you back a little to let you catch your breath. But you quivered and opened your mouth wiping at your eyes before trying to argue.

"Yeah but!?"

"Shh shh no buts take a deep breath... Now out, good girl now start from the beginning" he coaxed slowly cooing at you as you took a few breaths and calmed, settling down n his arms feeling safe and secure, even if you were still angry.

"I got that lamp with the shelves... It was fifty four dollars and ninety nine cents" you started explaining from the beginning and waited for August to nod.

"Yes I know, I remember you showing me to see if it would fit in the corner" he spoke remembering the little pull cord box lamp and three shelves, you wanted it for the internet router and house phone to sit on so you had more room for snacks on the side table.

"Well I got it and paid but then when paypal billed me they charged sixty four dollars and ninety-nine cents... I messaged them and they said it was import tax!" You cried out getting yourself all angry again, cheeks puffing out sweetly as you huffed and growled even throwing you hands up in frustration. August made to speak but you continued your tale of the mean support desk and their money thieving ways.

"I looked it up and cos its coming for inside the state I don't have to pay! So I called and they said I had to because the shop was registered outside of the USA! But its wrong! They're wrong and when I asked for my money she hung up on me! She said I have to talk to the tax office people!" August frowned that wasn't right and he knew it. It was clear you were being taken for a fool. These bastards were at it all over the place he'd seen some of it on the news, instead of tax evasion as we know it there was a new crime. Stealing tax from buyers and classing it as profit. Because its tax most people don't question it.

"And then my bank sent me this! Saying I was over my limit and in the minus! So now they are taking twenty dollars when my next allowance goes in!"  You cried quickly pulling up an email on your phone from your bank showing a notice of charges you now had on your account.

"Its not fair I didn't do nothing wrong daddy but now I'm loosing the tax and twenty dollars of my allowance!" You yelled and began sniffling again your lip wobbling. His heart melted as he watched you try so hard not to break down and cry again. You were being his big brave girl.

"Okay pumpkin i will sort this out give me the phone" he said plucking the phone from you then turned around heading to his office.

"But you cant! Its a withheld number-" you said sniffling following him one hand fisting the back of his jacket as he strode through the pent house to the secure room.

"Oh come on sweetheart don't tell me I'm going too soft and you've forgotten just who your daddy is~" he cooed opening the door and ushering you to the small teepee in the corner that had a large iPad and a few fuzzy scatter cushions .

"Go sit and watch YouTube or something okay? Let daddy fix this mess" he said pulling your headphones from the drawer and handed them to you ushering you to the small cozy spot he had made you.

You watched as he plugged your phone into his computer and made a few quick clicks before picking up his own phone and dialled a number with a smug look the  clicked his fingers at you pointing to the headphones wanting you to pop them on and stop worrying. You pouted but slipped on the large pink headset  and pretended to loom at your screen and select a video in reality you were listening to your daddy.

"Yes you wouldn't recognize it. How? Well this is a government number, you just told a young lady to inform us about taxes?" You flicked your eyes up at him grinning hearing the professional growl to his voice the 'daddy means business' tone that made you quiver with want and fear. It never meant good things, most of the time he used this tone when you were a bad girl. You only hoped the mean woman on the phone felt bad now too.

"Why yes, yes she did a miss y/n yes that's her. I would like for you to put me through to head office" you bit your lip hearing him begin his assault. No one not even the lady on the phone and her jargon would out smart your daddy!

"Pardon me I'm sorry I'm Mr Walker...I work for the tax office in her state and have decided to open an investigation about tax fraud over the issue, we have had many complaints... oh yes she informed us of everything, she was distressed over the tax miscalculation? Which has caused her to go over drawn on her account and incurred charges" he spoke firmly and turned looking to you as you giggled watching him in his huge leather spiny chair. You gasped when he frowned and pointed a finger to your iPad clearly telling you to stop being nosey and watch your videos.

"Yes I am aware of that but the shop is registered overseas, it doesn't export from overseas... so there is no international import tax due." He continued spinning around in the chair making a few notes on the large paper pad in front of him.

"Yes that's why I'm calling I've been on your website and your policies are in fact breaking the law and infringing on the rights of consumers. Do you understand? What you have done is illegal and fraudulent and I can see it isn't the first time so I would like to speak to your head of office now- thank you" you quickly looked down as August spun once more and grunted at you pointing to the door with a scowl catching you eavesdropping again.

"Poppet either watch your videos or go and have some lunch" he said covering the mouthpiece on the phone making you pout and flick your legs at him and cross your arms stubbornly. You wanted to watch!

"Decide or I will decide for you" he said raising his brows at you but you just huffed pleading with your eyes at him to let you stay and listen.

"Right lunch it is come on up! Off you pop go make a sandwich and have some juice" he said holding out his hand for the headphones.

"But I want to see you tell them off daddy!" You huffed non to impressed at being set out of the room so quickly.

"No, now do as I've asked daddy will be out in a few minuets this wont take long" you held his gaze for a few moments before you lost your nerve then stood with a pout handing him your headphones and left the room closing the door when you were told to.

It was twenty minuets alter August came put of the office and padded to the kitchen seeing you at the breakfast bar swinging on a chair whislt munching a chocolate spread sandwich a few candy wrappers on the side and packets of chips and un touched apple. He sighed giving you the stink eye but didn't say anything. You found a loop hole he said lunch and sandwich... he hadn't specified what type of lunch and sandwich.

"All sorted poppet! Your being refunded and getting compensation which will be debited into your account in forty eight hours" he said rounding the breakfast bar snatching the apple opening the cutlery drawer fishing out a knife.

"That's quick daddy... I thought they can only do it in five days?" You asked watching as he sliced the apples and began cutting the core out for you.

"Oh princess its amazing what people can do when they think the big bad tax man is on to them~" he chuckled at your face as he placed the apple on your plate. You didn't want to eat it but you would . Quickly. Because if you left it too long itd go brown and you would whine about it, get a warning and end up having to eat it anyway.

"Will you get in trouble? you pretended to be the tax man daddy" You said cautiously lifting a small apple wedge to your mouth and nibbled it.

"Me? Of course not daddy has many different identities love, and I can use them when I want love... besides we just uncovered a company that not only evades tax but it stealing it!" He grinned. If there was one thing he liked it was justice. Everyone should pay their dues. Especially someone who rigs a system to benefit themselves.

"And.. My bank charges?" You asked still unsure if he will be mad a you for over spending...Again

"All gone, daddy will cover them princess; now just how much chocolate spread is in that sandwich?" He said leaning over your plate trying to pry apart the two slices of bread.

"Err a little" you shrugged still eating your apple whist trying to smoosh your sandwich and hide the super thick chocolatey layer.

"Mm hmm there's more chocolate then bread poppet~" he hummed unimpressed but let it slide, again you'd found your loophole, the last thing he'd do is punish you for being a smart ass. It could save your life one day.

"Sorry daddy" you said whilst pulling the plates closer to yourself protectively worried he would steal our chocolate.

"Oh don't be poppet once its gone its gone its you that will miss it not me" he chuckled and spun around crossing the kitchen to make his own lunch. You grinned happily, what had been a bad day was getting better and better! You were getting your money back, compensation,  your daddy was paying your and charges and you got to keep your chocolate spread! What more could you ask for? Well there was one more thing you could ask for.

"Daddy can I have a puppy?"

#august walker #august walker x reader #august walker x y/n #august walker x little reader #henry cavill #henry cavill fic

[please-buckme]

A Broken Heart.

Chapter 1

Lee Bodecker x fem!reader

Chapter warnings: slight mentions of sex, 18+,hitting, sad shit, break up, heart break, angst, cursing

Chapter Summary: reader and Lee breakup.

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Chapter 2 //Chapter 3

The world felt as if it were shattering around you, crumbling beneath your feet like the rapture was upon you. Honestly, if the world did come to an end right now you’d be elated. At least you wouldn’t have to deal with your broken heart anymore.

You sat against a wall in your room, wallowing in your own self petty. It’d be three days since Lee Bodecker had broken things off with you. He had said that you were hurting his campaign, that he still loved you but needed a woman of power to help him become sheriff of this godforsaken town.

Lee had taken you out in the same field he took you to every time y’all made love. He kissed you so passionately, held you so closely. If you weren’t so caught up in the way his hands felt against your bare skin, you would’ve noticed how distraught he was the entire time he made love to you. It was his way of saying goodbye before he actually said goodbye. After he’d broken up with you, you felt disgusting and violated.

You’d never felt like that with Lee. He was your deputy and sinner in disguise. He was your rock and your soft place to fall. When the tears finally fill, the most empty feeling you’d ever felt emerged in your gut. One day you thought you were gonna be Mrs. Lee Bodecker. You daydreamed constantly of your wedding day and sharing a bed with the man you loved for the rest of your life ‘til you were old and gray. To know now that dream will always remain a dream.. that’s what hurt the most.

After Lee drove you home, you sat in your room for three days straight, not even coming out for supper. Your momma tried to convince you to eat and it worked once on the second day, until you threw up right after.

She didn’t understand. She’d never been in love, not really. Not love like you and Lee had. People told y’all all the time how rare and beautiful your love for one another was and you agreed. Just looking back on those memories made you sick. You listened in awe of how beautiful your love was not knowing Lee would only break your heart days later.

Today was Sunday, the lord's day, and usually you never wanted to go to church, but today you really didn’t want to go. The whole town, including Lee and his new arm candy, would be there. It’s the first time you’d be seeing Lee since he dropped you off. It was too soon, especially since you knew he’d already moved on.

As you sat with your head between your knees, your momma barged through your bedroom door.

“Jesus, girl. Why aren’t you up and ready to go? Church starts in an hour and you aren’t gonna make me late again.” She stomped over to your closet and shuffled through your dresses.

“Momma.. I- I’m not ready. I can’t see… him with her. I just ain’t ready for that kinda humiliation.” You sighed, trying to reason with your Bible-thumpin momma.

“Oh, no. You’ve embarrassed me enough this week. Disappearin’ for three whole days over a boy? You’re pathetic. You know, back in my day, we didn’t get to sit around and sulk the days away. No. We had to carry on like everything was fine and that’s what you’re gonna do. Now, get dressed.” She threw you a dress, one of your favorites actually. It was a teal blue, babydoll dress that you usually saved for special occasions, but you weren’t feeling very special at the moment and now you were just pissed off.

You stood and came face-to-face with your momma, “I’m not going. You have no idea how I feel. You can’t. You’ve never felt love the way we had it, Momma. No one ever loved you or me the way I love Lee. You couldn’t possib-“

Just then you felt a sharp sting against your cheek as your momma slapped you across the face.

“Not. Another. Word. You will be dressed and waitin for me at the car in ten minutes. No poutin’ and no sulkin’ in the pews. I don’t wanna hear another word about that boy.” She turned to exit your room but turned around to give you one last dig to the heart, “And, honey, a man in love would never have done what he did to you. Remember that next time you wanna preach to me about love.” With that she left your room. Your cheek still stung from the unexpected hit to the face. Your momma was cruel but she’d never hit you before.

The slap, in a way, was kind of refreshing. For a split second you’d totally forgotten about Lee. Only for a second, though. His crystal blue eyes and cheshire lips never leave your thoughts completely. You shook your head in defeat, trying to erase him from your mind. It didn’t work, but you took a deep breath and began getting ready.

//

The church parking lot was full when you and your momma pulled in. Rickety old trucks to brand spankin new, brightly colored cars littered the dusty lot. You spotted Lee’s car immediately, thankfully he was already inside.

The whole town came to this church, which wasn’t that many people. Nevertheless, everybody knew everybody and, even if you didn’t care, everybody knew everybody’s dirty laundry. Old Man Karl got pulled over last week for a DUI, Nancy from the library cheated on her husband with his brother and.. oh yeah, Lee Bodecker dumped his long time girlfriend for the mayor's daughter.

Lee and yours breakup was the talk of the town. You were the fresh, new gossip in this boring as hell town and there’s nothing you could do about it.

You couldn’t get two steps into the church without being bombarded by women you didn’t want to know but also knew too much about, asking if you were alright and that they’d pray for you on this ‘beautiful, glorious Sunday morning’. Yeah, same shit different day, different person.

One woman stayed to chat with your momma, so you went to find your seat. Your usual spot was next to Lee and naturally that’s where you headed, only to be greeted by Lee and His new girlfriend, Laura-Jean Mancon. She was one of those girls who’d been pretty her whole life. Blind hair, blue eyes and a huge rack. Everybody thought she’d go into modeling or start an acting career but she never did. Instead, she stayed and was now going to marry Lee. In your eyes, that’s the best path she could’ve taken. You’d take her place any day.

“Mornin’ Y/n.” Lee cleared his throat, unable to make eye contact with you.

“L-“ You went to say his name but found you couldn’t. It was only one syllable, only three letters and it pained you to even think about, let alone say aloud. You cleared your throat, “Laura-Jean, nice to see you again.”

Laura-Jean said nothing in return. She just hummed, waiting for you to talk away.

“I guess I’ll go.. find me a new seat.” You took a deep breath when you felt the tears welling up in your eyes, again. Lee stared straight forward the whole time you stood there, too cowardly to even look you in the eyes. Some Sheriff he’ll be.

You scanned the crowd of people and found your momma in the front row, of course. You made your way up the aisle and took your seat next to her. The chorus sang their hems and the preacher clapped his way in on the last versus.

“How are we doin’ on this fine Sunday mornin’?” he drawled to the crowd. He got an assortment of greetings in return.

“I said ‘HOW ARE WE DOIN ON THIS BRIGHT N’ SHINY SUNDIE MORNIN’?’.”

“GOOD” the people shouted in return. You could hear Laura-Jean giggling over something but you wouldn’t dare look back. Lee always made church bearable, making wise cracks at the preaches expense.

“Now, today I’d like to talk a little bit about love. Of course, we’re always talkin’ about love when it comes to our lord and savor, Jesus Christ. But just for a moment, it ain’t about him. No. This mornin’ I’m preachin’ to you about young love.”

Here we go.

“It comes and goes so fast, but when you have it, it’s one of the most beautiful things this world can offer you.. especially when you put a little Jesus in it.” The church laughed. You knew where this was going. Your stomach churned as you sunk down into the pew.

“I’d like to ask the newly engaged folks in the crowd to come and join me up here. You know who you are, soon to be Mr. and Mrs. Lee Bodecker.”

Your heart felt as if it were going to explode, a tear escaped through your lashes and you quickly wiped it away.

They walked up hand in hand, smiling for cheek to cheek. How could he be so happy, so calm after only being broken up for less than a week? Did he ever love you? Really love you. Like you loved him. Obviously not because you could never, in good conscience do this to him. You couldn’t stand on a stage wrapped arm in arm with another man while Lee sat, just as you were now, devastated and totally distraught.

“So tell us,” the preach beamed. “When’s the big day.”

Lee looked at you with a pained expression as Laura-Jean answered the preach.

“May 21st”

Your breathing heavies at the reply. Turning to your momma you whispered, “Momma, that’s in two weeks.”

“I know that. Now, hush.” She side eyed you with a full smile still pressed to her lips. Even your own mother didn’t seem to care about your feelings. You sat there, listening to Laura-Jean go on and on about their ‘big day’. Tears streamed down your face and you let them. You’d given up on trying to hide how hurt you really felt. When you looked up, Lee stared straight at you. He wasn’t crying but his pain ridden face told you everything. One look at him and you couldn’t breathe anymore. You stood abruptly, all eyes were on you and Laura-Jean had stopped talking.

“I- excuse me.” You said before booking it out the back door. Lee hollered out, asking you to wait. It was too late. You were half way out the door and couldn’t stand to be in that room for another second.

Your feet stomped against the grave, dust clouding up in your wake as you made your way to the road.

“Y/n!” Lee called out after you.

“Go away. I have nothing to say to you, L- fuck.” You cursed, trying desperately to get away from him.

“I said wait, goddammit.” He growled, capturing your bicep in his large hand.

“Let go of me!” You whined sounding out of breath.

“Not until you listened to what I have to say.”

“What, Lee? What could you possibly have to say?”

“I- I.. dammit. I know I put you in a tough position but-“

“A tough position?” You repeated.

“Let me finish.” He sighed and released your arm from his grasp, “I know I hurt you. I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am, but, doll, this is it. This is my only chance at becoming Sheriff. You know how hard I’ve worked to get here and you’ve always been so supportive of my dream. I- I just thought.. out of everyone you would understand.”

Your skin burned as you imagined smoke blowing from your ears. Did he really just say that? That you should understand the break up and go on with your life like nothing happened like he is? You stood there frozen, breathing heavier and heavier as your brain tried to come up with a coherent response while trying to also remain a lady.

“I- I still love you. You know that, right?” He asked, bringing a hand to your cheek and wiping a stray tear away.

You flinched at his burning touch and slapped his hand away, “Don’t touch me. Don’t you ever touch me again. I don’t love you anymore. I can’t love you. Shit… seeing you was the best part of my day and now I can’t even look at you without feeling like my heart is being ripped out of my chest. I can’t even say your name anymore. Everything about you, now, fills me with so much pain and dread. So if that’s what your love is, keep it. I don’t want it anymore.”

“Doll,” A tear ran down his cheek, you now being the one who’s breaking his heart. “I never meant to hurt you. I swear.” He sniffles.

“Well, you did. I’m in so much pain.” You sobbed, “I’m in so much pain and I have no one to go to because you were my person. You have left me completely empty and utterly alone.”

“Y/n, I-“

“Save it, Bodecker. I’m done talking to you.”

Lee didn’t chase after you this time. He let the tears stream down his face as he watched you walk away. He was just as heartbroken as you but couldn’t show it., not when he was so close to winning this election. He wiped his face with the back of his hand and headed back towards the church. He knew you just needed time and that he’d still see you around town.

Seeing you today took his breath away. You wore your favorite dress that he bought you for your birthday so long ago. You didn’t have on any makeup, which he loved. You were so naturally beautiful and he did still love you with every piece of his shattered heart. He’d eventually come up with a plan to get you back, but for now he would respect your space.

//

Once you’d gotten home and shut the door, you couldn’t help but scream at the top of your lungs. Hoping for some sort of release from all this heartache you felt. Telling him you couldn’t love him was the hardest thing you ever had to do. You sat on the floor in the same position you were in before you left; head between your knees and sobbing like a baby.

There was no escaping him in this town. There was church and the grocery store and the diner you worked at part time. He was everywhere. He’d come in every morning you worked to have coffee with you. He had been a part of every little thing you do in your daily routine for as long as you can remember.

There was never a time you weren’t together. It was always just you and him. He was the one who held you when you were sad, but where was he now when you needed him most?

To you, there was only one way to fix this; get the hell out of here. Completely leave town and start anew somewhere else. You have an aunt that lives right outside of town. You can stay there until it doesn’t hurt anymore.

Wiping the tears from your eyes, you got up. Your aunt agreed to the plan and said you could stay with her for as long as you needed when you called her. You packed a small duffle bag and waited for her to pick you up.

When she did finally pull up out front, you hopped in the car and she drove off, leaving the dusty ole town you called home for so long. You took in a deep breath as you drove towards your new life. No Lee, no momma, no worries.

Dividers by: @firefly-in-darkness

Taglist: @haydens-moles , @c00lkidvibes , @tcc-gizmachine , @buckysm3talarm , @gogolucky13 , @cryptidcasanova , @heavenlyseb , @writersbuck , @teddy-bearbaby , @bbmommy0902 , @sweetllamaparadise , @thereblogcrusader , @aleemendoza2425-blog , @frostbytebaby , @jessyballet , @emotionallyandphysicallydone , @sarge-barnes-sir , @generalbagelcookieslime

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