#like him chasing after people…. holding back to make an overtake on the final lap………

[usermarquez-moved]

i miss predator marc soooo bad

#like him chasing after people…. holding back to make an overtake on the final lap……… #destroying gaps…. #🤒🤒🤒🤒🤒 #nadya.txt

[dreamauri]

┇𝗗𝗘𝗗𝗜𝗖𝗔𝗧𝗘𝗗 𝗧𝗢 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗢𝗡𝗘 𝗜 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘 - P1 ┇ ─ ୨୧ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ :🪴: ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ୨୧ ─ ┇it's time you got back in the battle ┇︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦˚₊   ┇ . 🌿 :: pairing — ( max verstappen x fem! driver! reader ) ┇ . 🫧 :: ⁠genre — ( angst/fluff )  ┇ . 🌿 :: ⁠word count — ( 2, 445 ) ╰ 🫧  :: ⁠ content warning — ( X )

☆★ changed up things a little bit cause i found my muse, took me a while to write this chapter as well. I hope it was worth the wait. I don't plan on rushing this series, but it will be a long one, no more than 15/20 (??) chapters? ps. the translation is not literal, it's context. ty ━━━━

( fic master list | general master list ) ( requests )

RACE DAY Sunday April 30 2023 — Baku City Circuit, Azerbaijan

Needles to say, you felt like shit. It wasn't even the fourth race into the season and you had taken a seat that didn't belong to you. And there was nothing you hated more than that.

You watched as people rushed around the garage finalising their tasks. "You okay, kid?" Looking up, you met gazes with your new engineer. "Never been better." You lied, giving him a small smile. "Good to hear." He patted the top of your helmet gently. "I'll be in your ear the whole time, champ." "Thank you, Arcadio." "Call me JJ, kid." You chuckled, nodding. "Thank you, JJ."

"And here we are at the Azerbaijan Grand Prix, ladies and gentlemen! A race filled with anticipation, surprises, and the return of an incredible talent. Keep your eyes on car number 17, the Red Bull driven by the remarkable Seventeen. Her first race since 2016 was it? She is finally on the grid, with a full seat as well."

"That's right, Martin. After a long hiatus, Seventeen is back on the grid, and the excitement is electric. You can hear the fans roaring! You can tell that the people are exited for her to get back on the track, and I can't deny it, I am as well." "Disappointingly enough, she will be starting at the back of the grid for missing qualifying on Friday."

"Charles Leclerc is in pole position, with Max Verstappen alongside him in P2. But don't count out Seventeen just yet. She's eager to prove herself once again today."

Lap 1 :: "The lights are about to go out, and the race is underway! Leclerc gets a clean start, holding onto the lead, while Verstappen is hot on his heels. But Seventeen is on the move, slicing through the pack with remarkable determination."

"Seventeen is showing no signs of rustiness, Martin. Lap after lap, she's gaining positions, overtaking rivals left and right. It's a mesmerising display of skill and determination."

Lap 10 :: "Seventeen pulls off a breath-taking move on Turn 8, overtaking Lando Norris' McLaren with sheer precision. She's making her presence known, and the crowd is thrilled to witness her comeback."

"That is P9, Seventeen. P9." "God blessed me with a functioning radio." You joked, chuckling, pulling a laugh from the Filipino on the pit wall. "Thanks' Jj." You sighed happily catching up to the Mercedes ahead.

Lap 25 :: "Seventeen's drive is filled with passion and resilience, Martin. The years away from the car seem to have only fuelled her determination. And she executes a daring overtake on the outside of Turn 3! leaving Carlos Sainz behind!"

Lap 47 :: "Max, we need you to let Seventeen through, please. She's on pace. Let seventeen through." "An incredible act of teamwork from Red Bull! Verstappen gracefully yields, allowing Seventeen to continue her charge towards the front."

"And now, Seventeen is on a mission. Lap after lap, she closes the gap to the leaders, never faltering in her pursuit of glory."

Final Lap :: "The tension is mounting, Martin. Seventeen is determined to make her mark. She's chasing down Charles Leclerc, putting immense pressure on the leader.

"And there it is! In a sensational move, Seventeen overtook Leclerc on the final corner of the final lap! The crowd erupts in applause as Seventeen crosses the finish line, taking an unbelievable victory in her first race back!"

"What a comeback story!" "Seventeen has made a resounding statement with this incredible victory. A truly unforgettable moment in Formula 1 history."

"Heh." You chuckle to yourself as you park in front of the P1 board. Once you lifted yourself out of the car, standing on the nose, you bent backwards holding onto the halo as you did a handstand. "Eat shit." You whispered, bending both knees and arching your back, posing for the camera.

Once you put your feet back on the asphalt you walked to your team who was quick to pull you in the sea of hugs and praise. "Thank you, guys. I would've never been able to do this without you today." You told them, hugging your new and favourite engineer.

"It's good to have you back." You heard Hamilton greet you, dabbing you up. "Thanks, Lewis." You nodded, flicking up your visor so he could at least see the smile that reached your eyes. "Ya saba3tashar!" [hey seventeen] snapping your head to the source of voice, you're met with the smug smile of a certain eight year old.

"Ya benti howa enti ay 7ega tesarakhiha we khalas?" [My God, are you just going to scream at any chance you get?] Her father who was carrying her on his hip scolded, covering his pulsing ear. "3erefto tigo 3ayni." [So you could make it after all] You moved over to them, sharing a tight hug.

"Tab3an. Mesh hafawet awel seba2 lebatalet El 3alem." [of course, we wouldn't miss the world champions first race] Marawan kissed your cheek patting the side of your helmet. "Mestaniyeenek." [Theyre waiting for you] He gestured to the waiting interviewer. "Mashi mashi." [ok ok]

"Salam!" [take care] The girl waved, making you turn back and blow her a kiss.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Plopping on the P1 chair, you slumped tiredly leaning your head back. The room felt tense. With Max Verstappen in P2 and Killian Kraus in P3 ( two drivers who managed to overtake Leclerc in the last second right after you did ).

"That was a good overtake on lap 5." Kraus pointed out, looking at the screen that showed the highlights. He was trying to break the ice, especially with your teammate looking at you with such a negative expression that could be described as hate or despise, regret, anger. "Which one?" You asked yawning, waving slightly to the camera who was filming the three of yoy.

"Turn seven." "On Gasly?" "Yeah." "Eh, I could've done better." You shrugged, standing up once Jj stopped by in the room. "There's always room to improve." You sighed as he handed you the face mask and your sunglasses. You stood in a corner facing the wall to hide your face as you took off your helmet and balaclava, replacing them with a black mask, the 1st place cap and the sunglasses.

"It's time for the podium guys." "Here we go." You muttered tiredly pulling the second half of your race suit up, putting your hands through the sleeves. "And in first place, racing for the first time in seven years and adding another win to her unending winning streak. Give it up for Seventeen!" You could hear the crowd screaming as you walked out on the stage waving to the masses as you stepped up on your highest pedestal, raising your hands up bowing down.

You took your cap off once the Austrian Anthem started playing, skipping the one which would've been yours. You could hear and see the red bull team below you singing and smiling, which only made you crack a smile. Putting the cap back on your head as you received your trophy, quickly raising it up for your little family to see.

Max received his next with a forced smile and Killian after with pursed lips. Cracking the bottle open, you ran forward to the edge, spraying Your team principal and engineer.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"You are on a winning streak are you not?" "I am." You nodded, leaning back in the chair. Press conferences were always so boring. "How long has it been going?" "Oh wow . . . like forever? I don't think I've lost that many karting races. And I've never lost races in F3 and F2—" "You were lapping everyone." "Yes, I was." You nodded chuckling.

"Hopefully, the streak continues throughout the rest of the season. and maybe I can win all the races next year and set another record." You wiggled your eyebrows excitedly. "You guys did go back to school, I like these questions." You giggled making the whole room erupt in laughter minus the Dutch boy sitting by your side.

Once you walked out of the room you were dragged by your performance coach to the Redbull motorhome for an ice bath. "Can I go into the out now." You whined shivering in the inflatable tub, one had out giving pats and belly rubs to the clearly delighted Australian Shepard.

"You're so lucky, protected by that cute fur of yours." You cooed at him scratching under his ear. "Oh, I was starting to think you'd skip." You joked looking at the Dutch driver in swim trunks. Max only pursed his lips shrugging as he slipped in gently beside you.

"Fuck dit is koud." [fuck this is cold] He cursed under his breath, sinking into the water, watching you with the dog. "What's his name?" He asked breaking the silence after a few moments. "Aussie." You replied ruffling the doggo's head. "What? Who names their dog Aussie?" He looked at you confused and you could only blink. "I did." You furrowed your eyebrows. "Oh . . ." He replied quietly, sinking deeper into the tub till the cold water covered his nose.

First time having a conversation with his teammate, his biggest rival, his biggest ally ( and childhood crush ) and he killed it, literally. Stabbed it right in the face.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"She's scary." Lando shivered at the thought of your black helmet overtaking him. A certain group of drivers were clubbing, celebrating the race even though none of them won. And the said winner wasn't attending.

"I understand why some people call her a demon now. All she's missing is a tail and horns. I bet her eyes are red." Pierre grumbled sipping from his glass. "You're all sulking way too much." The unaffected Alex Albon commented. "Us? We're not even her teammates. Look at Max, he's dead." Charles pointed out at the Redbull driver that was practically unconscious from how much he was drinking. "If she really never loses, we're done, mate. Our only option is to wait till she retires."

Although Max was almost black out drunk, he still heard faint chatter from time to time. "only option is to wait till she retires." Max liked you as a driver, not a driver that was taking his wins away from him. 'Maybe we don't have to wait. We can force her to retire.' was the drunk though that passed through his brain. A thought that he should've left behind when he walked out of the club that night.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

MEDIA DAY Thursday May 4 2023 — Hungaroring, Hungary

"Hello, my name is Max Verstappen." "And my name is Seventeen and we are . . . I forgot sorry. Some one was walking by with cotton candy." You chuckled nervously looking back at the camera.

"We're playing 20 questions, with the goal of getting to know each other more. And by the end, the team are going to ask us 5 questions each and we have to know the answers to that." Max explained as you rocked your chair slowly to face him. "Alright. Who goes first?"

You ended up doing rock paper scissors, with Max winning. "Who is your favourite f1 driver?" You grimace thinking. "Umm, uhh. I say this and I don't have to hide my face anymore." You laughed. "I'm going to go with Seb." You nodded.

"Your favourite race circuit?" "I'll have to go with spa. Yours?" "Um, does it have to be a current track? Mine doesn't exist yet." You chuckled laughing. Through the game you found yourself loosening up, fining yourself more comfortable with your teammate. Max wasn't though, putting on a smile and forcing a laugh every once in a while.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

RACE DAY Sunday May 7 2023 — Hungaroring, Hungary

Lap 48 :: "Now on the soft rubber, we are watching Seventeen gaining with every metre onto her teammate ahead, Max Verstappen, her rival for the championship. She will pull out of the slipstream. Seventeen is on the attack, defence is on for Verstappen. The bulls going wheel to wheel." "Verstappen goes on the outside line but there will be better traction for Seventeen who stands on the throttle. She'll get DRS again and will fight into turn one. Can Verstappen offer a defensive line on the inside?"

"He's got no other choice! The bulls are wheel to wheel! Around the outside, will it be the lead? Its close between the two! The crowds are roaring and Seventeen takes the lead of the Miami grand prix having started fifth on the grid and losing positions down to tenth after the spin out on lap 22. She's passed all of them."

"Thanks, Max." You said through the radio as you felt yourself heave.

Lap 52 :: "Do you think . . . We can put on some music?" You said once you turned on the radio. "Because my ears feel empty and I have a horrible singing voice. I mean, There's no one else for us to overtake, no?" You could hear Jj's laugh over the radio, hearing his smile. "We are 14 seconds ahead of Max. So I guess maybe? Let me look into it."

it only took a few minutes before you were listening to Michael Jackson, singing along. "Cause this is thrillerrr!" You hummed along, your radio popping up on the stadium's speakers. "And that is, Seventeen listening to music, comfortable in P1."

Final Lap :: "Outstanding performance for Seventeen. She comes out of the final corners— And for the first time ever! Seventeen wins the Miami grand prix with a masterclass of performance! From tenth of the grid, to first." "Another one-two for red bull! Fantastic performance!"

"Wahoo!" You cheered pulling the steering wheel out once the car was turned off in front of the P1 board. Getting up on the halo, you celebrate by doing one more handstand, doing a leaning forward front-split this time. Once you got down, you fell into the hugs from your team, happiness clearly written in your eyes. "Thank you guys for all your hard work. Thank you so much!" You hugged and shook hands, sadly being ignored by Jos Verstappen but you didn't care.

Being up on the top of the grid again felt exhilarating and adrenaline fuelling. "I love you all so much." You blew kisses as you retreated to the cool down room. Getting up on the podium again felt euphoric. Raising your trophy for your team to see, you got down on your knees pressing the trophy to your forehead before hugging it tightly.

#‧˚⊹🪴 ଓ :: 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸𝘀 ‧₊˚⤾ #max verstappen f1 #max verstappen #max #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x you #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #formula 1 #formula racing #mv1 #mv33 #max verstappen fanfic #mv1 x reader #mv33 x reader #mv1 fic #mv33 fic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 fluff #f1 fics #formula one x you #formula one x reader #formula one x y/n #formula one #f1 grid x reader #formula 1 fanfic

[wonderfilworld]

Celebrate - J.P.

James Potter x reader where James wins an important quidditch match and the reader wants to help him celebrate. 

a/n: this is based off a request I got from a lovely anon, thank you!! also, this is going to take place during 7th year and both james and reader are 18!

word count: 4.9k 

warnings/contains: NSFW!! smut: oral, unprotected sex, praise kink-ish; cursing; drinking. if I missed anything, let me know!

if you want more stories like this, send in a request here

Masterlist

you sat on the edge of your seat the whole game, chewing on your thumb as remus quietly berated you time and time again, stop doing that, he says, but you ignore him. you know how important this game is to your boyfriend: james had not been himself the past couple of weeks; school work was piling up and he was just not getting it. he was so stressed about school lately, and he confessed to you the other night that he was worried his recent mood change would affect this game. he takes quidditch seriously - so seriously - and while you may not understand it, you love him with all your heart so you learn to love the things he loves. you quickly assured him that he was amazing and of course he would play great and that gryffindor just had to beat slytherin today or you wouldn’t give him kisses for a week. that seemed to get him, as he perked up and promised he would win, just for you.

you tried to pay attention to the game, you really did, but your eyes just wouldn’t leave your boyfriends figure as he sat atop his broomstick. he just looked so good - tan and dark beautiful hair, and his muscles, god, his muscles made you weak. you seriously hoped gryffindor could pull this win off, because you desperately wanted to give james the surprise you had planned. your boyfriend, however, had you wrapped around his finger, and you knew you would end up giving him his surprise either way. 

before you knew it, the game was over and gryffindor had won the match. you jumped up and down, attacking remus as you both cheered. you looked at james and saw him point to you, his signature smirk gracing his features. he and his teammates ran off to the locker rooms to change while the rest of your house headed to the common room to start the celebratory party. 

______

you had a cup of firewhisky in your hand, lightly humming to the music that flowed throughout the room. the air was thick; it was hot and people were standing entirely too close to you. sirius had just arrived to the party, and you rolled your eyes as he winked at you. you looked around to see if your boyfriend was right behind him, but you saw no sign of the brunette so you went back to swaying you hips to the music. 

you felt a pair of hands grab your waist from behind and you quickly jerk yourself around, ready to reprimand whoever thought they could grab you like that. you are instead met with your lover, “you know you’re not supposed to be drinking that stuff, princess,” james chastises you, looking down to the cup of alcohol in your hand. you have unfortunately come to realize that firewhisky is not your friend, recalling the night last year where you drank with the boys for the first time, and let’s just say that you are definitely not on good terms with firewhiskey, and james does not trust you within five feet of it. 

you scoff at his remark since you’re usually the one chiding him and reply, “I actually got this for you.” 

he throws a hand over his heart in fake indignation before taking the cup from your hands and puckering his lips for a kiss. “my bad, baby, can I make it up to you?” 

it’s your turn to scoff now as you lean on your tip toes to plant a quick peck to his puckered lips. he whines and tries to chase you for more but you quickly throw a finger in his face as you stop him, “don’t worry, baby, you’ll be getting plenty of kisses from me tonight.” 

He perks up at that, his smirk taking over his face and he takes his first sip of alcohol. he doesn’t want to get drunk, not even tipsy, but you were so sweet to get it for him and the action makes his chest tighten and warmth spread throughout his body. he loves you, and he never wastes an opportunity to tell or show you. he’s opting to show you right now, wants to drag you up the stairs and throw you on his bed and completely ruin you for being so amazing to him these past few weeks. 

it’s not like james to be insecure, he’s usually the optimistic one who always tries to keep a smile on your face, but the fact that you give as much as you get, really emphasizes to him that you’re equals, and that he can trust you with any and everything. he wraps his free arm around your waist as your hands come together on his chest to hold the fabric of his shirt. “I love you,” he breathes, and the sentiment is so sincere, the butterflies in your stomach go crazy, and you can’t help the smile that overtakes your visage. instead of answering, you lean back up to mold your lips with his, both hands coming to either side of his head. you love him too, he knows, and actions speak much louder than words. 

“hey, potter!” someone yells from across the crowded room. james groans as you break the kiss, looking back to the person who called for him. they wave him over and he looks back at you apologetically.

“go on,” you say, knowing that people want to congratulate him on a great game. usually he makes his rounds before he finds you at these parties, but he was so desperate to see you after his rough week that he forgot all about the other people in the room. you lean up to whisper in his ear before he departs from you, “come to your room when you’ve finished, I have a surprise for you.” he jerks his head back to you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. 

“i’ll be quick,” he promises. 

“take your time,” you say with a smile. you run up the stairs to your dorm quickly, grabbing the treat you had just gotten for james from your latest hogsmead trip. you hastily make your way to james’ room, finding him sitting on the end of his bed waiting for you. 

he leans back on his hands as you shut the door, cocking his head to the side as he speaks. “where’d you go?” 

you walk towards him, climbing to sit astride his lap and you wrap your arms around his neck as you pull his lips to yours. 

you kiss him deep, not wasting time on teasing as you lick into his mouth. james groans, hands gripping your waist tightly. you break from the kiss, a string of spit connecting your mouths. james watches as it stretches and breaks and he groans again, and you can feel how he grows harder underneath you. “had to go get your surprise,” you say. 

his eyes are still on your wet mouth, but they shoot to your own at that, and a grin breaks out on his face. instead of replying, he grabs the back of your head and brings your mouths back together. it’s messy and fast and you can hardly breathe with how hard your faces are pressed together. his tongue is in your mouth, and you can taste the firewhisky on his breath as he licks around - at your teeth, the roof of your mouth, your own tongue. you’re beginning to grow hot, but not the same hot as before in the crowded common room. the kind of hot where your stomach churns with lust and if james doesn’t touch you soon you think you’ll explode. 

your hands are in his hair, pulling because you know he likes it. you’re hoping he gets the message, that you need some friction between your thighs, because his mouth is still on yours and you can’t break away. your core is tingling and you are desperate to have anything he’ll give you. luckily, james seems to understand as his hands return to your waist and pull your core directly on top of his cock, fully hard now and straining against the fabric of his jeans. the pressure gets him to finally break away from your lips so you can breathe and you both moan at the friction. he begins to kiss along your jaw, moving down the side of your neck as you continue the steady rocking of your hips. he begins to suck on a particularly sensitive spot on your neck and you whimper, your hips beginning to go a little harder against his. 

“shit -” james whispers, his own hips bucking up. he brings his head up to see your face; your head is thrown back, eyes closed and mouth parted slightly as little gasps leave your throat. “please sit on my face,” he begs, squeezing your hips.

you whimper again, dropping your head on his shoulder as your hips pick up the pace. his voice is deep and raspy, and all it does is add fuel to the fire burning in your core. you nod your head, bringing it back up to look in his eyes. “o-okay” you say quietly, and you hate yourself for not being able to speak clearly when you’re in this state, know that james loves to tease you about it. he taps your hip and you swing your leg off of him, sitting by his side. you watch as he scoots to the head of the bed, laying his head atop his pillow. “take your clothes off,” he tells you. 

you stand on shaky legs, grabbing the end of your shirt and pulling it over your head. you reach down and pop the button of your jeans, grabbing the zipper and pulling it down. once those are removed, you reach behind your back, unhooking the clasp of your bra as you watch james reach down to palm himself over his jeans. you see how his chest is moving up and down, breathing heavily and you see the way his eyelids flutter as he squeezes the bulge. once your bra is on the floor, you go to do the same to your panties, but james stops you.

“wait - leave those on,” he says.

you do as he says and climb on the bed to straddle him once more. you rock your hips again, the lack of clothing making the feeling absolutely delicious. your head drops back again as you beg him, “please let me take your clothes off.” 

“not yet baby, come up here,” he removes his glasses before setting them on the bedside table and then grabbing at your hips and pulling your body up. you’re nervous now and he can see it. he’s eaten you out plenty of times but this is different, but all he wants to do is watch your body writhe and jerk on top of him as you ride his tongue. he knows what his words do to you so he speaks again, “wanna taste that pretty pussy so bad, baby. please let me, wanna make you feel so good. want you to cum all over my face.”

you can’t help but moan as you nod your head, letting him lead you up until you’re hovering right over his mouth. you don’t want to look down, can’t handle that yet, so you close your eyes and grab the headboard. his hands go under your thighs and he grabs your hips once more. 

his tongue licks a broad stripe up your clothed cunt, making sure to apply extra pressure to your throbbing clit. you gasp as your head involuntarily drops down and your hips rock onto his face. his lips wrap around the sensitive nub and he sucks and you can’t help but to let out a loud moan. it feels so good, somehow even better than normal but you’re sure it’s because this is something new. 

he’s still licking over your panties, full on making out with your clothed pussy, and something about that makes you roll your hips again. it’s incredibly dirty, but you can’t find it in you to care - and neither can james apparently, as he lets out content sighs and moans as he eats you out. but eventually, you need more, your panties need to go and you need to feel his wet tongue and warm mouth all over you.

you whimper loudly as you bring a hand down to his head to grab his hair. “more please, I need - oh,” you moan as he hooks a finger into your underwear, pulling it to the side as he finally makes direct contact with your cunt. you’re dripping, and it’s all over his face and james doesn’t think he’s ever been happier. his tongue dips into you, licks around inside, before he brings it back out to lay flat on your clit. then he stops, eyes blinking open to look up at you. you whine when he doesn’t continue. “james,” you cry, “please.”

“ride my tongue,” he says, voice muffled against your pussy. you throw your head back as you whimper, and james can feel the way your cunt clenches due to his words. 

you don’t argue - mainly because you simply can’t speak - and you begin to slowly move your hips back and forth. it feels so good and moans leave your mouth every time you jerk forward. you circle your cunt on his tongue, and james groans loudly, hands squeezing the plush of your thighs. you’re full on humping his face now, hips speeding up as you chase your orgasm. you can feel it in your lower tummy, getting so tight and your vision is getting spotty. you can feel all the ridges of his tongue against your clit, and the tip of his tongue catches on it as you rear back and you cry out. your legs are shaking and your thighs are burning from holding yourself up and you need to cum now. 

it takes one more thrust against james’ mouth before your body jerks, and your hips stutter as you grip the headboard tightly between your hands, riding out your orgasm. your moans are loud, louder than they’ve ever been, and james is painfully hard beneath his pants. 

once your vision clears and the waves of pleasure subside, you get up from your spot over his face, and you crawl back until your mouth is on top of his, kissing him hard. his face is soaked and it makes you moan against his lips as you taste yourself. you fist his shirt between your hands before you lean back, taking james with you so you can finally get his clothes off. 

once you’ve pulled his shirt over his head, you throw it behind you, focusing on the zipper to his jeans. you yank his pants down, not even bothered with getting them off completely as you just want him in your mouth already. you push his upper body back down so he’s lying there, head on his pillow, watching you as you put your lips to his cock through his boxers. he hisses as you poke your tongue out, licking along the length of it. you would tease him more, you really would, but you’re impatient and he did just give you a mind blowing orgasm with his mouth just few seconds ago. so instead you put your fingers in the waist band of his boxers, pulling them down and you can’t help the moan that escapes you as his cock slaps against his stomach. he’s so incredibly hard - you can’t help but think that it must be so uncomfortable: it’s red and pre cum just keeps bubbling out of the tip; it’s already made a small puddle on james’ abdomen and your mouth waters at the sight. 

you wrap your hand around the base of james’ dick, giving it a little squeeze as you pick it up. you lean forward, placing a kiss right over the puddle of pre cum that’s on his stomach. you suck it up, swallowing before licking over the spot to make sure you get it all. your eyes are closed and you hear james let out a breathy chuckle as he mumbles quietly, “tease.” 

you pout, you wanna make him moan and curse and you want to taste more of the warm and salty liquid from your boyfriend’s cock. you lick the head of his dick, knowing how sensitive his slit is. you pay extra attention there, collecting more of his pre cum before you put the whole head in your mouth and suck lightly. 

james arches his back, whispering a quiet fuck. you continue to suckle at the head of his cock, he’s big and it’s easier for you to focus on the head with your mouth while your hands travel up and down the rest. james is breathing heavier now, and you reach up and grab his hand in your own to bring it down to your head. he understands what you want and he fists your hair in a make-shift pony tail as you start to lower your mouth on his cock even more. you start a steady rhythm up and down, using your hands on the parts that you can’t reach.

“oh fuck,” james pants. “just like that.” his hands grip your hair tighter and the throbbing of your cunt returns and you squeeze your thighs together to help quell it. he pulls your head up and off his cock and you whine as you look up at him. “spit on it,” he tells you. 

you lean up gathering saliva at the front of your mouth before pursing your lips and letting it drip out of your mouth and onto the tip of his dick. it twitches in your hand and you look back up to him for permission to continue. james nods, and so you go back down to take him into your mouth once more. you suck harder and james grunts, “love that fucking mouth,” he says, and it’s strained, and you moan around his cock and he groans louder. you love the praise he gives you, you want more of it, so you start to go faster, running your tongue along the vein that runs on the underside of his dick. you twist your hand right under his tip as you suck, and james drops his head back with a loud moan that has your cunt clenching around nothing. 

he pulls on your hair and you come off his cock with an obscenely loud pop! and under normal circumstances you would be extremely embarrassed, but at the current moment, with the dull throb in your core, you can’t find it in yourself to care. “get up here,” he orders. 

you crawl up his body until you put your pussy directly under his cock, and you can’t help but to grind into him as your lips meet in a messy kiss. every thing is just so wet - your mouths with saliva, your core with your slick and spit from james’ cock, and both of your bodies are shining with perspiration from your strenuous activities.

“please,” you whine. his cockhead is catching your clit just right on every roll of your hips and you feel tears well up in your eyes as the pull in your tummy grows. 

“please what?” james asks, and he seems to be much more put together than you in this moment. you pout, looking at him as you move your hips in a circle, and james closes his eyes and lets out a deep sigh. “tell me,” he whispers, hands roaming to your ass and pulling you harder onto him. 

“want you,” you say, your voice a breathy whimper. 

“yeah?” he asks, like he had no idea. his hips thrust up into yours and your eyes nearly roll back as you nod your head furiously. 

“yeah,” you say, “wanna feel you in me.” and james can’t help the groan that leaves him, can’t help the way his cock twitches and threatens to explode his seed between the two of you. 

you continue, wanting to get your point across that you needed him to fuck you now, “you played so good today. wanna make you feel good.” you ended your plea with another circle of your hips, leaning down to capture james’ bottom lip in your mouth. you bite down, not hard, just enough to leave indents in the sensitive skin, and you pull it back. you let go while you look into his eyes as you keep circling your hips. at this point, james is steadily meeting your thrusts, with a tight hold on your back side as he humps up into you. both of you are panting and you know you don’t need to do any further convincing.

“hands and knees,” james says and you waste no time getting in position, your panties are still on, so james sits on his knees behind you and you arch your back, pushing your ass towards him. 

you feel a sharp smack against the flesh there, and you fall forward onto your elbows as you cry out. you turn your head to look back with a pout on your face as james slips his fingers under the waist band of your underwear and tugs them down your legs. you help him remove them all the way before he brings a hand back to your sopping cunt. he inserts his middle finger and you moan at the stretch. the sound it makes as he pumps his finger into you is obscene and you feel your cheeks heat up even more as you bury your face into james’ pillow. you feel lips meet the base of your spine as james places a sweet kiss there, and he starts sucking as he inserts another finger. it goes in without any resistance - you’re so turned on you could probably take his cock without needing his fingers first, but james is a sucker for foreplay and you can’t really say you mind at all. 

“so fucking wet,” james whispers, and you think he’s talking more to himself than anything, eyes zoned in on how you cunt stretches around his thick fingers. and you are wet, soaking really; it’s running down your thighs and is covering james’ hand, and he fucking loves it. 

you’re moaning loudly now, his fingers hitting the sensitive spot inside you that only he can reach; little ah, ah, ah’s leaving your mouth in time with the thrusts of his fingers. 

suddenly they’re gone, and you’re whining loudly, but james just ignores you as he pumps his cock, spreading the wetness you left in his palm over himself before he lines it up with your fluttering pussy. “you want it, baby?” he taunts and you mewl, back arching because of course you want it. 

you tell him this: “yes, please, fuck me.” the tears are back, threatening to spill as james runs his cock up and down your folds, hitting your clit and smirking as he watches your body jerk. he decides not to torture you more, decides you’ve been good, so he slowly pushes his cock inside, watching the way your pussy sucks him in.

“s’this what you wanted, baby?” he asks as he fills you completely, hips flush to your ass. you clench around his cock intentionally, hoping he takes that as an answer because you genuinely don’t think you can speak right now. your brain is mush and all you can focus on is the way his cock presses against your walls. you want him to move, to fuck you into his mattress so hard that your throat is raw from screaming and your hips are bruised from his tight grasp. you whine when he doesn’t move, and you push against him. 

his right hand travels up your spine to grip the back of your neck, holding you down as his left wraps around your front to find your neglected clit. he still hasn’t moved, and your cunt keeps fluttering around him as he circles the sensitive bud. 

“oh,” you gasp, and the hand on your neck is holding you down, his hips flush against you keep you from moving so you can’t do anything except feel the way his fingers circle your clit, the burning in your stomach growing tighter. “please,” you sob, the tears have fallen now, making a wet patch on james’ pillow as you try to move your hips. 

and james finally takes pity on you, your cunt clenching incredibly tight around him and he can’t take it anymore. he leans back to grab your hips with both hands as he pulls almost all the way out before slamming back in. your upper body shoots forward with the force of his thrust and your eyes shut tightly as you feel his cock reach the deepest parts of you. he doesn’t let up, continues the violent rhythm of fucking you into his mattress and it’s exactly what you wanted. it’s overwhelming, the pleasure, and you can’t do anything except moan loudly and hope that the music downstairs is loud enough to drown you out. 

“love this fucking cunt,” james growls, eyes glued to the spot where he goes in and out. it’s dirty, and so fucking hot and he is so fucking close to cumming. “you know that?” he asks you, but how the fuck are you supposed to answer when the only thing leaving your mouth are sobs. you’re shaking again, legs weak as james mercilessly pounds into your soaking pussy. 

“please,” you beg again. you need to cum; orgasm bubbling in your stomach as his cock repeatedly hits the sensitive spot inside you. 

“wanna cum baby?” james speaks, his fingers finding your clit and toying with it once more. “gonna cum for me like a good girl, huh?” 

and it’s the pet name that does it for you because yes you want to be a good girl for him, the best girl, and you cry out his name as you cum on his cock, whiny moans leaving your mouth because james doesn’t stop moving, still needs to chase his release. you can hear him panting, hear the sound of his hips slapping your ass with each thrust, and you tighten your core around him even more.

“oh fuck,” he groans, throwing his head back. his eyes are closed now, focusing on the way your cunt clenches around his cock. it’s wet and so warm and he’s almost there. “gonna cum,” he pants, “gonna cum in this tight fucking pussy.” 

you moan again at how desperate he sounds, “please, please, please,” you beg, pushing your hips back to meet his thrusts. 

“shit,” james hisses, and then he’s cumming; spilling into you as his hips press flush against your ass. you moan at the feeling of it, squeezing his cock and milking him for all he’s worth. 

james pulls out, collapsing on the bed beside you as you let your knees out from under you, laying on your stomach. the only sound in the room is your heavy breathing and the faint thumping of music from downstairs. 

he turns on his side, putting his hand on your back to stroke up and down soothingly. you turn your head to face him, seeing that he’s put his glasses back on and you’re met with a cocky smile. “that was good, huh?” he asks, smirk wide as he winks at you. 

you laugh, because duh, it was good, and you think james has a praise kink almost as much as you. instead of answering verbally, you lean over and plant a sweet kiss against his lips. he cups your face, running his thumb across your cheek as you pull back. “thanks for my surprise, baby,” he says quietly.

your eyes widen as you sit up, completely forgetting the treats you had brought for james from your room. “what? that wasn’t your surprise.” 

you lean over the bed to find your pants and dig out the present you got for james. you set them in his lap as you get underneath the covers. “that’s your surprise.” 

james is stunned, picks up the new candies he told you he discovered. “oh,” he says. “I thought hot sex was my surprise.” he’s blushing now, and you laugh softly as you lean forward and place a sweet peck on his cheek. 

“the sex was a bonus,” you tease him, “but I wanted to get these for you because I remember you said you liked them. I know things have been hard lately with school and all, and I know this doesn’t really help or anything but -” 

james cuts off your rambling as he grabs your head to bring your lips back down to his. his glasses bump your face and he smiles into the kiss, and you lean back to look at him. 

“I love you,” he says quietly. “thank you for everything.” 

you smile back, and you roll to lay on top of him again as you say, “I love you too.” 

#james potter #james potter smut #james potter fluff #james potter x reader #james potter x you #Harry Potter #harry potter smut #james potter imagine #james potter blurb #james potter one shot #james potter x y/n #smut #marauders smut #marauders fluff #marauders era fic #marauders #remus lupin #harry potter imagine

[duskamethyst]

playing with fire.

a/n: sooo this is my take on the racer!AU. i’ve spent some time watching movies about car racing to get a grasp on the whole scene so i hope i executed this well enough. i also used some terms that are related to cars and wtv, so you can google if you're curious.

word count: 3.8k

genre: smut, nsfw, mature, quirkless AU

warnings: illegal street racing

pairing: racer!keigo x f!reader

summary: keigo is notorious for being the king of speed and drifting in car races and you’ve caught his attention since the first night you joined as a line girl. although keigo has his eyes on you for a while now, he realizes that he might’ve missed a few things about you. and well, surprises aren’t exactly bad.. right?

keigo loves speed. he loves the adrenaline pumping in his veins.

and what better way can he express his love for it?

cars. races. 

keigo is a force to be reckoned with. he grew to be infamous for his incredible skills and talent in the scene and because of that, he also became the main target for the cops.

however, he’s not aiming for anything in particular. yet he doesn’t mind the prizes that come with it either; recognition, money, women. 

and boy, how he can easily get anyone wrapped around his finger.

but one thing he’s irritated about is how you’ve never paid him any attention. he got some killer looks, has won so many races, fucking loaded with money and he’s pretty confident about his size too (you can ask the other girls if you need reference, by the way). 

what more does he need to entertain you?

keigo gets excited when you’re filling the role of the line girl for his races on certain nights. he knows that it’s the best opportunity to show you what he’s made of and he wants you to know that you shouldn’t be taking him so lightly. 

the starting line is crowded with car enthusiasts, boys and girls alike– gathered for their love towards expensive sport cars, the sound of roaring engines, the thrill of watching and betting between two racers. the roads on the city outskirts has been put into lockdown by the responsible crews to avoid disruptions from other vehicles or bystanders.

keigo pulls up to the arena with his red nissan a few minutes early, not wanting to be late especially because he's the main star for tonight. his avid followers would already be there before him and instantly swarm around his loud car to cheer him on, wish him luck and maybe give him some kisses on his cheeks too.

as he’s chatting with the people around him, his golden eyes wander around from time to time to catch a glimpse of you in the arena. his eyes narrow when he finally sees you standing and talking by the window of his rival’s car. 

he wishes he could hear what you’re talking about that makes you all smiles and giggles while all he has ever gotten is the cold shoulder. keigo leans on his car, arms folded across his chest as he watches you from afar. he can’t stop himself from rolling his eyes when he notices you kissing the guy’s cheek before you walk away and strut in his direction to get across the other end. 

a playful smirk tugs on the corners of his lips by reflex as he watches you come nearer, the noises of the engines and chatters around him are quick to become white noises. yet, you only spare him a glance.

“hey,” you stop in your tracks and turn once you realize that he’s trying to talk to you and his lips curl into a lopsided smile as he smizes you with his golden eyes. “i’m keigo.”

you look at his extended hand peculiarly before shaking it firmly. “yeah, don’t humble yourself. all people here know you.”

“oh?” he raises a brow in amusement. “i’m just saying because you’re kinda new here.”

you smile, “already keeping tabs on me, keigo?”

“how could i not?” he chuckles. “always gotta keep you in my sight.”

“right,” you scoff. “what if i say that i’m taken and he’s my boyfriend?” you tilt your head to the side to point at the guy you spoke to earlier. 

keigo inhales through gritted teeth, feigning a pained and offended expression on his face. “then you have a bad taste in men.” 

“ha-ha,” you roll your eyes, pretending not to be amused by him yet he can see the small smile on your lips. “race is starting soon, you should get in your car.”

“don’t you wanna kiss me good luck?” keigo stares at your ass as you turn to walk away but he quickly shifts his gaze to your face once you turn to look at him. 

“i don’t think you’re the type that believes in luck.” you flash a sarcastic smile before striding off towards the front center of the track.

two race cars come forward before the red line that was freshly sprayed just a few minutes prior. keigo watches you as he revs his engine, sending a flirtatious wink when your eyes meet.

ignoring him, you raise both arms in the air, glancing between the two males who now have intense glares on the road ahead as they grip their steering wheels and gears firmly. 

“ready! set!” you shout through the revving engines and the cheers from the mob. “go!”

the moment you draw your hands down, both vehicles instantly speed off and emit white smoke from the friction of tires on the asphalt. when you spin around, you can vividly see that keigo is the one eating dust. 

keigo is calm and focused. like a hawk soaring in the blue sky, he keeps his prey within his vicinity before he waits for the right moment to pounce. he loves to chase– purposely letting his opponent get swept by their own overconfidence before he severely crushes down their will by swiftly changing the lead. some wouldn’t take the risk, but keigo absolutely loves the devastated look on their faces when he veers beside them by surprise.

any regular racers would be familiar with the track by now. he presses the clutch as he changes necessary gears while the mph meter increases gradually as his right foot presses down the accelerator continuously. keigo skillfully speeds through tunnels and every sharp corner until his bumper eventually lightly hits the race car in front of him, making the two of them neck-to-neck.

however, the car in front of him keeps on shifting side by side in an attempt to stop him from getting the chance to overtake. despite the adrenaline pumping in his veins, keigo is patient. he’s aware of the corner ahead where people usually make the same mistake and that’s where he finds the opening to strike. 

approaching the said corner, keigo has expected that the other car would make a wide angled drift thus with his own dexterity, he maintains perfect control as he drifts through the entire corner. 

“hah, bastard.” he snickers, glancing at his side mirror to see the other car struggles to catch up from the poor oversteering. 

keigo steps on the gas harder before he activates the nitrous oxide and boosts his ride until the finish line; easily completing the whole lap with the other car just a decent gap behind.

his ears are ringing with cheers as steps out from the car as people instantly flock around him to express their praises for his victory. keigo notices you weaving your way through the crowd to reach him and a triumphant smirk curls on his lips.

“i’m not surprised.” you say, voice lacing in sheer amusement. 

“yeah, but you’re the big prize for me tonight.” he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you closer, ignoring the people around him.

“i wasn’t a part of the bet.” you chide. 

keigo smiles at you endearingly before he gaze trails far in the distance. “we gotta run.”

as if on cue, the most hated and startling siren echoes through the street. everyone quickly scatters to their cars and drives off while you get inside keigo’s car with him. he wastes no time and speeds off before one patrol car chases after him.

“hold on, baby.” he swerves through corners, changing gears as he presses the gas harder to try and get the police off his tail. “one more corner will shake him off.”

keigo expects you to be frantic but he is caught off guard when he realizes that you’ve opened the window and stuck your upper body out of the car window. 

“what are you–”

you lift up your shirt and flash your tits at the cops behind you, “fuck you!”

a look of shock is apparent on his face but then he laughs to himself, thinking that he’s seeing you as you actually are, even for a brief second, and not the cold façade you’ve always shown him.

you get back in and sink in your seat just before keigo makes it to the last corner, giving him a chance to widen the gap between him and the car behind him before he quickly brakes at a dark, quiet alley.

“think we lost them.” he peeks through the rear view mirror to see the patrol car passing and missing the alley you both are hiding. “let's wait for a few minutes before i take you home.”

the both of you stay in the car for a few moments, making sure that there are no more cops patrolling the roads before he starts to drive off to your house. keigo doesn’t know why but he suddenly finds himself to be rather nervous now that you’re alone with him. he chooses not to make you uncomfortable so he geeks about his car instead and talks about which car he’d like to own next and gives his own elaboration why he adores it in the form of horsepower, engine and all the shit that you’re probably not too familiar with. 

now he feels like an idiot.

keigo hits the brake once you tell him to stop in front of your apartment and he’s a bit upset that the journey ended quicker than he thought. 

“thanks for the ride, keigo.” you say before opening the door and step out. 

“sure thing. sorry if i talked too much.” he scratches the back of his neck in embarrassment. 

but he feels relieved and his confidence flows within him when he hears you laugh. “it’s fine. you did rather.. well.”

“you’re not too bad yourself,” he grins, knowing that you’re not talking about the race he won. “flashing your tits like that. you’re full of surprises.”

you close the door and lean down to the open window, “and i assume you’d like to know what i have up my sleeves?” 

“i’m taking you out after my next win.” he snickers, honey orbs glinting with overflown confidence and mischief. 

“only if i get to drive.” you smile cheekily, leaving him stunned before a cocky smirk etches on his lips. 

“bet.”

it has been two weeks since keigo last saw you and tonight is another night that you’re filling in as the flagger. he’s uncharacteristically super pumped for his race tonight, coming with extra determination to absolutely annihilate the race since he can’t wait for the biggest prize that awaits him. 

he watches as you stand in the middle of the starting line, not missing the wink you give him before you glance at the other male to see if both contenders are ready. both cars rev their engines as they wait for your signal. this time, keigo immediately accelerates with incredible speed and smokes the other, not offering the slightest chance for his opponent to take the lead.

the battle takes place in the parking lot tonight– from the basement until the rooftop. keigo is notorious for his drifting skills so he’s able to ascend to each floor without breaking a sweat, oversteering through every spiral ramp that eventually leads to the rooftop. 

sounds of screeching tires can be heard from the wire. the winner is already expected by the crowd, yet they all stay and wait at the finish line to welcome the first car to arrive. sooner than later, keigo’s car is the first one to appear and the mob instantly runs over to him while the other arrives seconds later with some ugly dents and scratches on their car. 

“you really didn’t hold back, huh?” you chaff, resting your arms on top of his shoulders before he pulls you into an embrace. 

“i just couldn’t wait to take my prize back home.” he whispers in your ear, just audible for the two of you but before he can take the chance to kiss you, you pull away.

“come on, playboy. let’s take a drive.” you quickly jump into the driver’s seat and rev his engine. as he’s about to open the other door, you intentionally step on the gas to make the car move forward. 

“you can do it.” you laugh, moving the car forward again when he tries to open the door.

“not funny, kid.” keigo looks at you in annoyance before quickly opening the door and sitting beside you. 

“i’m just teasing you.”

keigo rolls his eyes and sighs, “okay, go slowly when we’re going down the ramps.”

he guides you the whole way down, reminding you to be careful of the corners and to keep watch on both side mirrors as you drive down until you’ve successfully reached the exit of the building and onto the main road. 

“that’s good. i guess you know how the clutches work now. so when you want to drive faster, you should– holy shit!” 

you immediately accelerate and skillfully shift gears as you drive through town. keigo on the other hand, quickly wears his seatbelt and holds onto his seat in fear for the whole ride. it must be the terrified look on his face because he can hear you laugh like a maniac as you drive even faster.

“fuck! slow it down, kid!” he yells, staring widely at the road in front him to make sure you’re not crashing his car to any poles or other vehicles. 

keigo swears that his soul has already flown out of his body but luckily you both have made it in front of your apartment unscathed. he has no idea how, but he’s fucking glad the car has stopped.  

“that was fun!” you chirp and turn off the engine. 

“n-never again.” he stammers and quickly finds solace by stepping on the ground, thanking the lords that he still has the chance to see another day.

“get a grip, keigo. you’re lucky i didn’t use nos.”

you get out of the car and hand him his keys before leading him inside your complex. 

“i wanted to drive to your place but you were busy screaming when i asked you where you live.” you purposely pick on him, remembering how he couldn’t utter cohesive words except for ‘watch out!’, ‘holy shit!’ and some other things of those sorts.

“shut up.” he pinches your arm. 

“but my place is okay too, right?” you smile sweetly as you open your door and pull him inside. you both quickly take off your shoes and keigo’s arms easily wrap around your waist to pull you close.

“if here’s where you want to show me the tricks you have up your sleeves, why not?” 

“but you didn’t seem too entertained with my surprise earlier.” you pout innocently, leading him towards your bedroom.

“i appreciate it.” 

keigo crashes his lips onto yours and pushes both bodies back down on your bed. he quickly takes off his leather jacket along with his shirt and throws it to the floor before his hands roam around your body while your hands run through his fluffy blonde hair. 

you moan into the kiss when you feel his erection grinding against your pussy and he breaks away to pepper kisses down your neck. keigo takes off your shirt and unclasps your bra before he latches his mouth on one of your hardened nipples and tweaks the other between his fingers. 

“you’re so impatient,” he mumbles, pressing down your clit through the damped panties. “you’re so wet and i barely touched you.”

“stop it, keigo.” you whine breathlessly, rubbing the bud against his finger shamelessly to relief the dull ache. 

“hm? i’m just teasing you.” he mocks. “can’t take it?”

“you’re an ass.” you bite back playfully, making the male chuckle with mirth. 

keigo takes off your skirt and pulls down your panties, smearing his thumb with your slick through your puffy folds and revels over how warm and drenched you are. 

“fuck.” he hisses as he watches you squirm from his touch. “what do you want me to do to you, babe?”

you nibble your lips anticipatingly, “hmm, show me how fast you are in bed.”

his eyes twinkle with pleasure and his lips twist into a sardonic smile, “oh? that sounds more like a challenge to me.” 

keigo bends your knees up, holding your ankles as he dives down to lick a fat strip of your essence. you shudder from the feeling of his wet muscle lapping the slick up and down while he gazes at your blissful expression through half-lidded eyes. he intentionally circles your throbbing clit with the tip of his tongue and gives a harsh suck that causes your legs to tremble. 

“mmph– keigo!” you whimper, trying to close your legs together but he only pushes your legs up even more until your ass is lifted from the bed. 

he drags his tongue down slowly then prods it inside your dripping hole. he wiggles his tongue all around your walls, shoving it as deep as he can until most of his face is buried against your cunny. your cheeks heat up in embarrassment when you make eye contact with the male– his gaze is predatory and intense, his expression inexplicit as he continues to fuck you with his tongue.

the warm muscle brushing rapidly against your walls feels so lewd yet arousing. keigo can see that your tummy begins to twitch as your breath comes shorter while your legs shakes uncontrollably. keigo pulls away, licking his lips t0 clean off your juices yet you can still see some leftovers glimmering on the tip of his nose and his chin. 

“shit,” he slides in a finger inside your quivering hole and groans over the feeling of your walls clenching around it. “you’re ready to take a cock, aren’t you?”

“mmhmm, please.” you whimper, grinding your hips to match his pace after he fits in another finger. 

“i like you begging like this. not very cocky now, huh?” he curls his digits inside you, dragging it against the spongy part that bounds to tip you off the edge soon. 

“oh, fuck–” you gasp as the muscles in your lower stomach continues to tighten vigorously. “keigo– wanna cum–”

“then cum.” he snickers, pushing his fingers back and forth at a ruthless pace while his thumb ghosts over your neglected clit. “come on. you can do it.”

keigo mocks again, not minding how he comes off quite petty since he’s the one who has the upper hand now. so he uses that opportunity to make you beg and given the fact that you’ve grown more desperate, you let it slide.

“p-please–” your hips are shaking, begging for one final push before you can completely reach your orgasm.

“you need me to touch this clit, don’t you?” he coos, grazing his thumb teasingly. 

“pleaseplease. need you, keigo. make me cum–” 

keigo generously rubs tight circles on your clit, causing your body to spasm violently as you’re pushed over the edge and cream all over his fingers. keigo crawls on top of you, drowning your moans with a fervour kiss and the saltiness that has enveloped his tongue embeds with your taste buds.

“but that wasn’t enough to show you how fast i can be, right?” he chuckles, freeing his throbbing cock from its confinement, tip already flushed with a bead of precum before he shifts back down and lines with your quivering hole. 

you gasp when you feel his cock stretches your sopping cunny, each bulging vein brushes against your walls as he fills you to the brim. 

“shit. i– ‘m so full.” you sob, clenching your sheets firmly before he takes out his cock halfway and pushes back inside you steadily. 

“f-fucking tight. your pussy’s sucking me so well.” he props on his hands so he can look into your eyes while he pounds inside your pussy. reflexively, your legs are wrapped around his waist and allows keigo to ram deeper and concurrently kissing your cervix with his tip. 

“hah– feels good–” you moan. “choke me.”

your request took him by surprise and it’s clear from the way his cock suddenly twitches inside you. nonetheless, he complies; circling his palm around your throat and pressing carefully. 

“mmph– yesyesyes!” your eyes roll back as your mind slowly becomes cloudy from the lack of oxygen while the male growls above you, sheathing his thick cock in and out as your walls clench around him.

“goddamn, you’re clamping down on me.” he says through gritted teeth, applying more pressure around your neck as he thrusts harder. 

the air in the room is filled with the sounds of his balls smacking your skin and lewd squelching noises. the pressure inside your tummy builds up drastically and your toes are curling as you chase for another orgasm while you submissively let keigo milk his cock with your sloppy cunt. 

“come on, baby. cum on this fat cock.”

you’re unsure whether your mind is playing tricks on you or whether keigo’s pace has become more relentless and incredibly fast but you couldn’t bring yourself to care when it feels so good, the pressure inside your stomach is threatening to snap.

“keigo–!” with a loud cry of his name, you finally come undone– pussy fluttering around his cock and he finally lets go of his hold from your neck to let you breathe. 

“fuck yeah. good girl.” keigo nibbles on your neck, marking you with purple bruises as he rides through your high. his sporadic thrusts soon starts to falter and you know he’s just close when you feel his cock twitching inside. 

“fuck– baby– i’m gonna cum.” he says through grunts, brows furrowing as he desperately reaches for his climax. his hips stop moving abruptly, groaning in your ear as he fills you up with his load. 

the two of you stay in trance for a moment, regaining your composure before keigo pulls out his spent cock and lies next to you. while keigo is still in a daze, you get up and reach for the drawer beside you and get on top of him. keigo snaps back to reality when he hears the clank of a metal sound above his head. by tugging his wrists, he can figure that it’s a metal handcuff. once again, keigo is astonished. it’s confounding and thrilling; how many more surprises do you have in store for him? all underneath that cold guise, he has never expected you to be such a fun person to be with.

“round two? so soon.” he smirks conceitedly, golden eyes shining brightly with eagerness. “i must’ve been that good, huh?”

but you only chuckle and shake your head before looking at him dead in the eyes. he’s slightly perplexed, but his blood run cold once you show him a shiny badge in your hand.

upon his obvious dismay, you return his smirk. “keigo takami, you’re under arrest for participating in illegal street racing.”

duskamethyst © 2020 • do not modify, translate or repost anywhere.

#keigo takami #takami keigo #keigo x you #keigo x reader #hawks x you #hawks x reader #hawks smut #keigo smut #bnha smut #mha smut #bnha hawks #hawks fanfic #bnha fanfic #mha fanfic #bnha au #hawks au #r; writes

[barbarianprncess]

is there a reason you’re blushing like that !!!!

i actually loved writing this so thank you for the prompt!

forever house

read on ao3

or

“Mom, I’m home!” Percy calls distractedly into their apartment as he wrestles with his skateboard.

“Hi honey,”  Sally answers from the couch, and he can hear the smile in her voice when she says “There's a surprise for you in your bedroom.” He furrows his brow and hurries upstairs. He opens his bedroom door expecting cookies and is instead greeted with familiar blonde hair and a bed overrun with papers far too complicated to be his own. He can’t help the smile that overtakes his face at the sight of his girlfriend, still in her Catholic school uniform.

“Hey!” He leans over his bedspread being very careful not to wrinkle her designs to plant a kiss on her cheek. “How’s my favorite genius?”

“Hey Percy.” Annabeth is currently scrambling to get her papers in order, which he finds odd because usually when he calls her a genius she’ll smile and kiss him extra gently. And then she only needs a little prodding and he can get her to explain what she's working on. She gets this crinkle in the corner of her eyes when she talks about her projects and gesticulates wildly to get him to understand. It’s awesome.

But right now, Annabeth is beet red, eyes manic, and piling papers with a vengeance. He’s not entirely sure what’s happening but Annabeths got this look in her eye- like one wrong move and she’s gonna bolt. “What’re you working on?”

“Nothing!” She says voice cracking in a way that clues him in on the fact that the subject of her stress but her work. Which Percy finds ridiculous because he may not understand the nuanced and complicated world of design, but Annabeth’s smarter than anyone, she’ll figure whatever it is out. Annabeth gets like this sometimes- ADHD fixation and her need for perfection is a combo that doesn’t mix well and in the months that they’ve been dating, there have been more than a few times when Percy had to loosen her fistes curled around her designs in frustration, and talk her down from a panic attack because Apollo didn’t love his statue. Percy hates that her work does that to her, but he likes taking care of her.

“Annabeth,” He says slowly, hands already positioned to relieve her of the designs that she managed to wrangle in her lap, but she bats them away.

“No, no it's not- I’m not.” She looks up at him and her eyes soften at his concern. “I’m fine, seriously I’m not stuck on anything.” Percy raises his eyebrows skeptically.

“Sooo… is there a reason you’re blushing like that?” Annabeth's hands fly up to her neck as if she can stop the flush of her skin from the outside. Which is a mistake on her part because Percy immediately grabs the blueprint she was so desperately trying to hide. She lunges for it, causing the remaining papers to fall forgotten on the floor, but Percy's growth spurt, along with the angle she’s sitting on his bed, makes it so he’s able to keep her at bay.

“Percy!! Give it back, oh my gods, I’m gonna kill you!” He’s heard that before and he’s still breathing so, he takes his chances. He makes out the words “Forever House: Annabeth Chase”, and a vague sketch of what looks like a shoreline. He catches Montauk and something about support beams when Annabeth finally succeeds in snatching the paper from him. She’s flushing even harder now, and her hands are covering her face.

“Which of the gods are asking for a forever house?” He laughs until he notices Annabeth shaking her head and she lets out a muffled ‘none of ‘em’ from behind her hands.

“Hey, hey Annabeth.” He says softly poking at her sides and pinching at her cheeks (he gets mostly fingers because she’s still covering her face but, all the better to grab her hands with). She sighs and lets him take her hands and sit on the edge of the bed, still not meeting his eyes. He squeezes the fingers in his grasp, a silent promise not to make fun of her, and she takes a deep breath and forces out an explanation.

“Well, a couple weeks ago, while I was waiting for you to get out of school, me and your mom talked for a while and she mentioned some of your trips to Montauk and how much you loved them, and we were looking at pictures and she mentioned how you always said you wanted to live there, right on the beach when you got older, and inspiration kinda struck and I started sketching out your hypothetical beach house. And I guess subconsciously, your beach house became a version of…. the forever house.”

Now, Percy’s heard of the hypothetical ‘forever house’ before. Annabeth had told him once about her favorite theoretical place, created when she was little. Having lost every person and place she was told to call home, caused a deep distrust for anywhere she lived in the future. (He doesn’t blame her, he’s not sure he could ever trust anything if he went through what she went through before Luke turned to Kronos- let alone everything she went through after.) So to cope, in her head she’d design a house that she’d build when she was older- now known as the forever house. She told him she daydreamed about building it, how it’d be open and bright with huge windows so she’d never feel alone again. But, despite its openness, it’d be sturdy and rooted in place. The design and location changed over time but it always had big windows and it was always immobile. And no matter what happend, that house would be her ‘something permanent’. Her forever house.

As what she was saying registered, Percy’s smile grew impossibly wide. Annabeth must’ve assumed he was laughing at her and deflated. “I know, it’s stupid and creepy just forget it ok I didn’t mean-”

He let go of her hands as she rambled and cut her off with a kiss. He wasn’t sure how to articulate what he was feeling with words, so he let his body speak for him. His thumb swipes at her cheek (I’m sorry that you had to build a house in your head because the people that were supposed to love you didn’t, it wasn’t your fault, thank you for trusting me anyway), he runs fingers through her hair (It’s an honor to be a part of your future, I’m going to care about you, on purpose, for as long as you’ll let me), he tilts up her chin to deepen the kiss (I love you, all of you).  

When they part he rests his forehead on hers and allows himself a minute to be in awe of her. He learned a long time ago that Annabeth was brave. But after learning so many of the intimate details of her past, he thinks that her ability to love at all is an act of bravery. Everytime she tells him a secret, or holds his hand, or lets him walk through one of her walls is an act of rebellion. To love Annabeth is to be in awe of her relentless courage.  

“Thank you.” He whispers. He doesn’t clarify what for and she doesn’t ask. She just smiles something small and says, “You’re welcome.”

He kisses her forehead because he can and half-laughs out, “You made me a house.”

“Ugh.” She buries her head in his shoulder bites at his collarbone in annoyance. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t, you love me, you know how I know?”

“I’m begging you to shut up.”

“Because you made me a house!” He says gleefully into her hair.

Annabeth shoves him back on the bed and he pulls her down with him. She half on top of him, face buried in his chest when she retorts,

“I made us a house.”

He hopes she doesn’t mind when his arms tighten around her. It’s instinct. And a necessity. And when he whispers i love you into her hair, it's a silent promise. A promise to do anything and everything possible to get them to that house one day. From the way she smiles into his shirt, she’s gonna do the same.

#i cant write anything under 1k for some reason #i hope you like it! <3 #it was rlly fun #ive had the forever house headcanon for so long so im happens its come in use #percabeth #percabeth fic #annabeth chase #percy jackson #rbs appreciated #my writing #anon ask #prompts #fic rec

[xummie]

How to Beat Fate

For @strykiss, Happy Holidays and I hope you enjoy!

On every person's 15th birthday, they develop a soul mark. Find the person with a matching mark, and you've found your soulmate. Fate leads most soulmates together by their 21st birthdays, and the members of Stray Kids were no exceptions - all but one that is.

WC: 3554

This is actually going to turn into a full on SKZ Soulmate AU series.

---

A 15th birthday is supposed to be an exciting day, but Han Jisung's was not a day worth remembering as it was the day he learned he was cursed to live a loveless life.  Jisung did not develop a normal soulmate mark, instead he developed a very rare mark that most consider a curse. This mark has been recorded as a soulmate-less mark through the centuries, owners of this mark never finding their true love because they lived years before the current bearer of the mark was born or many years after their death. Being a generally happy person, Jisung was able to push past his mark and just chase his dreams. As long as he hid his mark no one knew what it was, and as long as no one brought it up Jisung was able to keep it off his mind; until his members started finding their soulmates, that is.

The first to find his match was Seungmin at the very young age of 16 while he was still training. Everyone was surprised to learn they'd debut with an already partnered member, but as any good family they all loved Seungmin's soulmate like a sibling.

One night after moving into the dorm together everyone was hanging out in the living room and the topic of soul marks was breached, so everyone started showing off theirs. Jisung became unusually quiet as everyone boasted about their marks - hoping to get through the night without anyone asking to see his - But he was not so lucky.

“Jisung-hyung, what’s your mark?” Jeongin’s simple, harmless question had Jisung’s heart racing.

“Oh, nothing special.” He muttered, holding his sleeve balled up in his hand. “Yours are all way cooler.”

“Aw come on, show us!” Felix practically pounced on Jisung, playfully pulling his arm out of his lap as Minho joined in and pulled up his sleeve.

Minho gasped when he saw the mark and pulled Jisung’s sleeve back down quickly, but the collective “Oh” that went around the room told them that everyone had seen enough of it to know why Jisung hadn’t wanted to show it. Jisung couldn’t bear everyone’s looks of pity and he stood swiftly, bolting to his room and slamming the door shut as tears began to pour down his face.

A light knock at the door before it opened signaled someone’s presence, and Jisung was surprised when the person to speak wasn’t one of his roommates.

“Jisung, I’m so sorry. We were just surprised.” Chan’s voice was truly apologetic and Jisung heard the springs of another bed protest as Chan sat. “That must be hard… I can’t even imagine knowing...”

“I try to forget about it most of the time but… yeah, it’s not fun.” Chan had to strain to hear Jisung, whose face was buried in his pillow. “Especially when people react like that. I already know I’m cursed, but why does everyone have to act like I’ll infect them or something?”

“That’s not what it was. We were surprised to see it, nothing else. No one is scared of you. Everyone is worried about you right now.”

“And now they’re always going to be worried for poor Jisung, who is cursed to be alone.”

“You have us now…” Chan knew that didn’t really help. “And I don’t think you’re cursed. I think you’re destined for something that wouldn’t be possible with a partner.”

Jisung scoffed. “Like what? What incredible feats did anyone else with my mark accomplish?”

“One was a great mathematician. One was a renowned poet. Maybe this means you’ll be a rapper or composer good enough for the history books.”

“Sure.” Jisung was not convinced in the slightest. “Thanks for trying Channie-hyung, but I think I just need to be alone for a bit. Tell everyone I fell asleep or something.”

“Alright. Just know we’re here for you, OK? We’re your brothers now, and brothers stick together, yeah?”

---

Seungmin remained the only one to have found his soulmate until three months post debut when Bang Chan found his at a coffee shop. He brought his soulmate to the dorm not long after meeting them and everyone instantly welcomed the new member of their family. Jisung was especially friendly, treating the new partner as if they’d been part of the group as long as Seugnmin’s.

Barely a week later Hyunjin's soulmate ran into him, literally, as they were rushing to school and Hyunjin to practice. Unlike Chan, Hyunjin decided to keep his soulmate to himself for a while, going on cute dates and not telling anyone. He managed to keep his secret for about a month until one day Jisung noticed a text message and wouldn't let Hyunjin do anything until he told him. Hyunjin didn’t want to tell Jisung first, but Jisung was so happy to have their family grow again that Hyunjin soon became glad he was the first to find out.

What Hyunjin didn’t see was Jisung crying himself to sleep that night before anyone else went to bed. Two soulmates in a month, and so early into their time as an idol group, it was like a knife had been planted into Jisung’s heart. Seungmin had found his soulmate before they were even living together and it really hadn’t hurt Jisung more than any other relationship in the world did. But now it just felt like every soulmate his brothers brought home would be another jab of the knife, another twist, until finally everyone had a partner and he’d be left bleeding and alone.  

Even so, Jisung made it his mission in life to make sure the soulmates always felt like a part of the group. When on tours, Jisung was in charge of keeping everyone in communication. When Hyunjin would pass out too early to call his partner, Jisung would text them and let them know he was fine, just tired. When Chan didn’t come home from the studio Jisung would text his partner to see if they knew where Chan was or how he was doing, and if they didn’t then he’d check on the leader himself. Helping keep everyone happy was Jisung's way of distracting himself from the fact that he'd never have a relationship like his brothers did and it worked, most of the time.

Minho was next, two years later, finding his soulmate working at a cat cafe that he frequented when he missed his cats. He texted Jisung about them first, thinking Jisung would be ecstatic to welcome another new member of their family. He was surprised when Jisung's response came hours later instead of the usual immediate reply, but thought he must have forgotten about a schedule Jisung had. The truth was, Jisung saw the text right away and had to take time to let his jealousy cool down before he could respond with the expected energy and excitement. As he suspected, another partner, another twist of the knife and the more alone he felt.

Jisung’s relationship with Minho’s partner was nothing like the other three, and he hated himself for it. He tried. He tried so hard to treat them the same, but deep down he knew there was something off. Five months later he was the last to find out that Changbin had met his soulmate as the older boy was scared to hurt Jisung with the knowledge. They all saw how each new partner made him sadder, no matter how hard he tried to hide it by being overly welcoming, and Changbin felt truly bad to hurt Jisung again. It was all so confusing, he was happy for his brothers but at the same time he just couldn’t shake the jealousy and sadness.

A year passed without another soulmate and Jisung was mostly back to his happy-go-lucky self, his attempts to treat all the partners as equals being far less taxing than before. That is until one day when he overheard Chan and Felix talking in their room and even though they were speaking English he could understand enough to make him furious. He threw the door to the room open, making both men jump.

“Oi Jisung, what-” Chan started before Jisung cut him off, yelling at Felix.

“You’re complaining that your soulmate is in Australia?! Is that what you were saying? My English might not be perfect but I don’t think I mistranslated that.”

“Eh, yeah but Jisung, why are you yelling at me?” Felix was shocked, shrinking back farther onto his bed at Jisung’s anger.

“You found your soulmate last week in Australia? You’re telling Chan-hyung you wish you’d never found them because now you have to have a long distance relationship? How ungrateful can you be?!”

“Jisung, lay off him, he's just trying to adjust.”

“No! I have to live my entire life without a soulmate, and you have the audacity to complain that yours is a phone call away? Felix how is that even something to complain about with today’s technology? How is that even-” Jisung’s voice broke as he choked back tears. “-even a problem?”

“I’m sorry Jisung I wasn’t really complaining I was just trying to work out how to make this work best.” Felix’s deep voice told just how sorry he way, but as he stood to pull Jisung into a hug the other man shook his head and turned, exiting the room and slamming the door to his own as he flopped onto his bed and let loneliness overtake him. He jumped when his door popped open and Chan poked his head in.

"Jisung, can we talk?" The leader asked as he sat on the edge of Jisung's bed and started rubbing his back. "I know what you must have been able to understand from Felix wasn’t exactly what he meant, can I explain?” Jisung replied with a tearful mumble into his pillow which Chan couldn’t understand. “What’s that?”

Jisung turned his head just enough to let the words reach Chan. “It doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have blown up at him like that.”

“Yeah, but I get it, that’d be a pretty tactless thing to complain about even behind your back.”

“I probably didn’t fully understand him, I should’ve made sure I understood before losing my temper. But it hurt so much, Channie-hyung. Just thinking someone in the would could be so ungrateful, that finding your soulmate could be so taken for granted that you could complain about it.”

Chan nodded, “Felix wasn’t complaining about finding his soulmate. He was just telling me that he doesn’t know what to do with them in Australia. He misses his family so much as it is, and now to have his other half so far away, he was asking me if I could help get the company to fly them here.”

“See, that’s not bad. I’m so stupid, I need to go apolo-”

“No, Felix understands. You can apologize later. For now, it’s OK to let your feelings out.”

“I just feel so alone.” A new wave of tears overtook Jisung and Chan just let him cry for a few moments.

“You’re not alone, we’re all here for you Jisung.” Chan’s voice was soft and reassuring, and yet it didn’t help Jisung one bit.

“You all have your partners. Or at least you will. I have no one.” He sat up as he talked and put a hand over Chan’s mouth, stopping his rebuttal. “One day we’ll disband, you’ll go off and start your families, have solo careers or just leave the limelight all together. What’ll I do? Keep working my ass off till I drop because there’ll be nothing else to keep me busy? Live in an empty flat with me myself and I? Get a pet? While all around me the world laughs in my face, constantly reminding me of the love I’ll never receive?”

Chan sighed and pulled Jisung into a tight hug. “I would hope that even after we disband we’d all stay connected. I know I’ll want you in my family’s life, as my kids’ uncle Ji, and so would everyone else.”

“So I’m just supposed to be the entertaining uncle? With my little nieces and nephews asking why I don’t have a partner, why my mark is so weird, why I don’t have kids?”

“Well yes children are curious creatures so I’m sure they’d ask. But they wouldn’t care, wouldn’t judge. And if you want a family, there’s always those whose soulmates have died. You can still find love, Jisung, even if it’s not in the expected way.”

Jisung shook his head. “Not even a widow would fall in love with a curse.”

Chan rolled his eyes, though Jisung couldn’t see that. “ You aren’t a curse Han Jisung, and I don’t think your mark is either. Just because it’s different doesn’t mean it’s damning. Sure, you may have to wait a while to find love, but I think you’ll find it. And whether you do or don’t, if you want children you can always adopt, we’d all help you and you know it.”

Jisung thinks about that suggestion for a moment and then shrugs. “I guess maybe. Thanks Channie-hyung. He gives Chan a hug and then sits back. “I think I’m going to take a nap before practice.”

“Sounds good, I’ll wake you up when we need to go.” Jisung gave Chan a light smile as he left the room.

---

Another year passed and neither Jisung nor Jeongin found their soulmates, not that Jisung expected too. Through the year the group stayed extremely busy and Jisung was able to push his loneliness and jealousy to the back of his mind for the majority of it. His 21st birthday, however, was not a day that let him ignore his fate. They had their normal midnight “surprise” with a cake and a surprise live, which Jisung managed to put on a happy facade for, and then they went to bed. When Jisung woke up annoyingly early on the morning of September 14th he knew the day would be a bad one, and he didn’t want his brothers to try making it better.

I’m spending the day with my family, I’ll be back late. Jisung texted the group chat as he left the dorm, having no intention of actually seeing his family or anyone he cared about on that day. He wandered on the streets for a while, not caring where he went. He found himself grabbing coffee at a shop he’d never been in before as he ignored the messages coming in from his waking members. The constant notifications from his phone became frustrating and he powered it off, he didn’t have a schedule that day so there was no reason for anyone to look for him while they thought he was with family.

He sat in the back corner of the coffee shop for about an hour, sipping on his drink and staring at the table, trying to stop the onslaught of emotions and thoughts from getting too strong. When he left he took a random set of turns, trying to lose himself in the city. He walked around for another hour or so before ending up at a park and hiding against a tree where he broke down, not for the last time that day.

People could find their soulmates after they turned 21, it wasn’t unheard of even if uncommon, but hitting 21 still felt like the final nail in Jisung’s coffin of fate. He hated that he had gotten so lonely even with everyone around him, hated that he couldn’t just accept living a partnerless life and move on with things. He thought about his members’ relationships with their partners, something he tried to stop himself from pondering any other day, and he let the sadness wash over him like a tsunami, hoping that maybe allowing it all to consume him for a day would lessen his pain later. As he let the thoughts run free in his mind he began to sob, screaming at the world, asking why he had to be the one to carry the lonely mark.

At some point he fell asleep against the tree, waking to the sun on his face and dogs barking in the park. He stood and stretched, feeling no better than before. He moved on, hoping that no one had thought to check on the man against the far tree and taking pictures of him. He began walking randomly again, taking turn after turn with no care of where he ended up. Suddenly he stopped as he heard a cacophony of children’s laughter and playful screaming. He looked towards the sound, thinking he must have ended up near a school and being surprised when he realized it was actually an orphanage.

He watched the kids playing outside for a few minutes, actually smiling at the contagious laughter and the games being played. Chan’s words from what felt like forever ago came back to him then “ You can always adopt”. Without consciously making a decision to move he found himself walking up to the orphanage door and knocking. He cursed himself as he knocked and turned around quickly, thinking he was crazy and having no idea why he was knocking in the first place. He couldn’t adopt a child now, Stray Kids were in the height of their popularity and not slowing down any time soon, none of them could take care of children yet.

Before he could take more than a step away the door opened. “Hello young man, how can I help you?”

“I-I don’t know.” Jisung stuttered awkwardly, suddenly realizing how swollen his face must be from all his crying. “I’m sorry for bugging you, I don’t know why I knocked. I’ll leave you be.”

“Young man, you seem to need something to do.” The kind woman smiled at him knowingly. “It just so happens that two of my helpers called in sick today and it’s lunch time, would you like to help me prepare the children’s lunches?”

Jisung stood in shock for a moment and then shrugged. “Sure, I… I think that’d be good.”

The woman led him into the orphanage, naming children as they passed. A particularly chubby little boy who couldn’t be any older than five ran over as they passed and clung to Jisung’s leg, laughing wordlessly as Jisung tried to pry him off, causing Jisung too to chuckle, the sound surprising him.

“What’s your name young man?” The woman asked as they reached the kitchen.

“Han Jisung, ma’am.”

“And what were you doing in this area, Han Jisung?”

“Just wandering, really. I have the day off and didn’t really know what to do with myself.”

“That explains the lost look. Well I appreciate your help, it’s been a tough day.” Jisung returned the woman’s kind smile as they began prepping food. They chatted lightly as they cooked, and Jisung loved talking with all the kids as he helped serve their lunches.

“Have you ever fed a baby, Jisung?” The kind woman asked.

“A baby? No ma’am I haven’t.”

“Well come sit down over here, you can feed this little one his bottle. Hold her like this.” The woman showed Jisung what to do and he cooed over the little girl as she fell asleep drinking the bottle.

Jisung spent the rest of the day at the orphanage, only realising what time it was when the older kids returned from school. Luckily none of them were old enough to recognize him, all being elementary schoolers. He had so much fun entertaining the kids that he truly forgot about his worries for a while. He stayed long enough to help with dinner and then decided that he should head home.

“Thank you for today, honestly today was going to be one of the worst days of my life but I don’t think I can say that anymore, these kids really changed it.”

“Well, I’m glad we could help.” The woman laughed as she walked him to the door. “You know, we can never have too many hands around here, really we always need a few extra pairs. I’m sure you have your own life to lead, but anytime you want to stop in and play with the kids, we’d love to have you.”

Jisung smiled widely. “Thank you, I’ll be back as often as I can be. My schedule is kind of all over the place, but I’ll be here whenever I can.”

“It was nice to meet you, Han Jisung.”

“You too, ma’am. Have a good night.” And with that Jisung headed back to the dorm, his thoughts revolving around the children and planning out times when he could return.

Chan was right, he would find love and family one day, even without a soulmate. He didn’t want to rush anything with Stray Kids, he would perform with them as long as he could. But where he used to be terrified of the day they’d disband, he now had something to look forward to. When that day came, he knew he’d be adopting a child and starting a family of his own. Those kids were just like him, worried that they’d never have a family of their own, but he knew there was hope for all of them, just as he now knew there was hope for him.

#skz angst #skz fanfic #skz soulmate au #soulmate marks #bang chan #lee minho #lee know #changbin #skz au #skz #hyunjin #han jisung #jisung #lee felix #seungmin #jeongin #skz ensemble #sad jisung #angst with hopeful ending

[ficsnroses]

Put Your Head On My Shoulder - John Wick x Reader

Some soft John fluff. Enjoy! :) 

Word Count : 2652

Warnings : None!

Summary :  Reader falls asleep on John’ chest, however, he’s too kind and gentle to wake her.

A/N : I will use this gif 100 times he’s so  p r e t t y 

As John scrambled around his living room, tidying up the spare couch cushions and scattered remotes, he finds himself growing more nervous than initially intended. Should he light a candle? Dim the lights? How much was too much? He hadn’t done this in years, he was definitely out of practice. His heart hadn’t planned on falling this solid, this fast for Y/N, but he did. And there was no undoing it, no going back from here.

Finding new love may just be one of the purest feelings on the planet. It’s hard to find another experience that makes you feel so hopeful, so cheerful, so happy with the course of life. You begin to find joy in all the little things around you, begin to see yourself in new ways. Falling in love, even the simplest drink of water tastes as if maple syrup, tapped from the finest maple tree, the smallest glance their way bringing the light of a million stars, twinkling in your eyes, nothing in the universe seeming more seamlessly, more flawlessly crafted, than them.

He didn’t believe in love at first sight, it was a concept too perfect. Too faultless, impeccable, a dire contrast to the life he had lived, the things he’d seen thus far. He didn’t think the sin he lived deserved to find happiness, the awful deeds that defined him would never truly erase. They’d always linger, glooming around him, following him to the depths of everything he did, everything he tried to be.

But when Y/N walked into his life, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to see her walk out. She’d gave him the normalcy he so desperately tried to seek, everywhere. Something about her was so inviting, so wholesome. He truly felt she was the first to see the good in him, the man who so desperately wanted to be free from who he had been. A man who wanted not to be remembered by the gruel things his life had succumbed to, whenever, wherever, he inevitably fades away.

Y/N and John were still quite new, still adjusting to the feeling of having each other around, feeling each other in the most unique of bonds. They were still getting used to each other, but one thing they knew, was that they’d keep each other around for a long, long time.

John tried his best to keep his thoughts, his feelings at bay, scared they’d overtake him too soon. But he had already pictured a future with Y/N, the perfect life he’d craved, the life he’d chased. He wanted it all, the white picket fence, the loyal dog, the boy born before the girl, so he could protect his sister from all harm that may threaten her way. The love he didn’t get before; the companionship he’d never received. He wanted it all, with her.

As he smoothed out the lines on the sofas, and made sure each thing was exactly in place, he ran a hand over his slightly sweat coated forehead. It wasn’t as if this was his first date with Y/N, it was far from that actually. They’d been seeing each other for around three months now, making an effort to talk to each other every single day, whether it was just a small text asking how their day was going, or a full blown conversation about things they hadn’t discovered about each other yet. He’d took her out to romantic evenings in the city, she loved the way the lights glimmered in evening air. He’d take her to the park, where they read books together under his favourite oak tree. He’d taken her on long, destination-less drives, where he’d hold her hand as she leaned her head out the window, taking in all the beautiful coastal sights, letting her know he’s close.

However, he’d never properly invited her over for a day in. He had been to her apartment a few times, popping in just to see her gorgeous face. But she had only ever seen his house once, the day she’d come to drop off some goodies she’d baked for him. She didn’t stay long that day, he was due for a job in the city next to town.

This was the first time she’d come to spend time with him in his setting. She’d get to see him in the place he was most vulnerable, the same place he’d spent countless nights lonesome. He had forgot how it felt to have someone else there with him, someone else’s voice to echo in the gray corridors of his not-so-humble abode.

The doorbell ringing sent butterflies quivering through his stomach. She was finally here.

He found himself taking a look at his appearance in the full body mirror by the entrance doorway. He’d never cared much about the way he’d looked before, sometimes letting the scruff of his beard grow wild in all directions. But now, he had someone to look good for. Someone to keep his beard trimmed spick and span for, someone to lather cologne onto his skin for. He straightens out his shirt and jeans, running a hand through his hair. He made sure to ruffle it a little bit, just the way she likes it.

With a finally content sigh, he glides open the bulky wooden door. There she stands, stunning as ever, her hair falling perfectly over her shoulders. The sun had been hitting her seamless skin in all the right places, she looked divine. John may have just felt his breath hitch momentarily at the sight of her. A big smile casts itself on his face, as he brings his arms up to wrap around her waist, pulling her in.

“Hi,” John beams, staring right at her lips. She’s brought her arms around his neck, getting on her tippy toes to reach his lips. They kiss briefly, both grinning into each other’s delicate, tender lips.

“Hi,” she says back. “You look really handsome today. Lucky me.” She grins, gently grazing her thumb over his cheek. John knew he must have blushed three shades deeper in a vibrant pink. There’s no one else that could manage to have this effect on him.

“You look beautiful, Y/N. As always.”

“I didn’t think we we’re going anywhere, so I didn’t dress up too much. I hope this is okay.” She glances down at her attire. She’s got on an oversized sweater and some jeans.

“It’s perfect. We’re not going anywhere, I thought we could watch a movie or something, make lunch at home?” John proposes, as she steps in and he closes the door behind her. Down the hallway, the sound of Dog’s collar rattling comes closer and closer, finding Y/N and John. Dog had met Y/N before a few times. When John took her out to the park on a date, or for a walk around the city, he’d bring Dog along.

“Hi baby, how are you today?” Y/N coos, leaning down to pet him. Y/N and Dog were quite fond of each other already, seeing them together, getting along made John’s heart so warm each time. She would buy Dog new toys often, much to John’s dismay. “He doesn’t need more toys than he already has, Y/N.” John would argue. “But he’s such a good boy!” she’d insist.

--

After brewing some fresh tea for the both of them, John and Y/N sit at the kitchen counter, talking. As they grip their respective mugs in hand, every now and then, their fingers touch each other’s skin, their hands fiddle together. They could talk to each other for hours, if time allowed them. John had never had such an easy time investing himself in someone else before, opening up to anyone else. But Y/N made him feel safe. He knew each thought; each word his lips spoke would be welcomed by her generous heart. She had such an aura to her, so alluring. He could never harm her, despite all the violence that laid on his fingertips, and he knew she’d never harm him.

“So what kinda movie you wanna watch?” John asks, leading her to the living room, where he may or may not have had a minor nervous breakdown before she arrived.

“Oh, anything works for me. Whatever you want.” She smiles, setting herself down on the couch, innocently folding her hands in her lap.

“Hmm, okay. Let’s see what’s on then?” John says, flipping through the channels. When they finally settle on a comedy, John places himself beside her on the couch, close enough so that their legs and shoulders are touching. John was a little out of practice to the whole…relationship thing. It had been so long since he had been in love, or even felt love for someone. He knew he wanted to hold her, but was that okay? That is what lovers do…right? Or did she just want space? John didn’t know what was the appropriate thing to do was. Should he just hold her hand, as they usually did?

As he pulls a knitted blanket from the side of the couch, he drapes it over the both of them. This was okay. He turns his head to see her smiling at him. He almost felt as if she was waiting for something. For him to do something. With a wave of confidence cast over him, he takes her smaller, softer hand in his, entwining both their fingers. She looks down at their connected hands, the way her hand has basically disappeared in his. She chuckles lightly, her lovely voice filling his ears. “You know, I don’t bite, John.”

John is almost awestruck, watching how comfortable she is around him, and in his home. He watches in admiration, as she lightly kisses his shoulder, before leaning her head on his bicep. She brings her arms to wrap around his arm that is holding her hand, tucking herself in. John loves every second of it, her holding onto him, proving to him that she trusts him, she feels safe around him. It may not have been a big deal to most people, but to John, having someone so close, knowing they’re not scared, was so special. It meant the world to him.

John wasn’t hesitant anymore. He slightly shifts his arm, moving it out of her grasp. She lifts her head, brows furrowing as she’s confused. She’s nervous now, did he not want to be held so close? Had she invaded his personal space, gone too far? She swallows lightly, scared she ruined the moment. But when John brings his arm to wrap around her, pulling her into his chest, she feels the smile creep onto her lips once again. John wanted to hold her closer. He kisses the top of her hair as she tucks her head onto his chest, her eyes reverting back to the screen. John brings his other spare hand to connect with her hand once again. They hear Dog pad into the room, waltzing in a few circles before setting himself at John’s feet, for a nap. This was perfect.

--

“This guys a complete idiot. Who even does anything remotely like that?” John huffs, staring intently at the screen. “I would feel stupid even writing this character on script.” John chuckles. However, when Y/N doesn’t reply, he questions why.

“Y/N? Darling?” John’s chest rumbles as he speaks, his coarse voice filling the room. When Y/N doesn’t reply, John leans his head forward, looking down at her.

She’s fallen asleep on his chest.

John felt butterflies in his stomach for the possibly 90th time that day. Here was the woman of his dreams, asleep, right on him. She felt secure enough, protected enough to doze off. John only holds her tighter, moving the hair that’s fallen in her eyes behind her ears, pressing his lips to her temple. She looked so precious. If he wasn’t sure of it before, he was definitely sure of it now. He was in love with her, and he didn’t think he’d be able to keep from telling her for much longer.

John tries not to stir; he didn’t want to wake her. He’d stay there all day, holding her, giving her a place to rest if he needed to.

Minutes go by, turning into an hour, an hour and a half…and so on. The movie has long finished, and John’s arm has fallen asleep a few times. He’s growing a little uncomfortable, but there’s no way he’s going to wake her. For her, he feels he could endure any pain. This was nothing. He keeps her in place, soothingly rubbing her back every now and then, embedding kisses in her head as his heart desires. Life seemed pretty darn good in this moment.

--

Eventually, two hours in, Y/N’s eyes snap open, as she gently flutters her eyelashes, getting used to the light surrounding. She’s in John living room still, but where’s John? She stirs, before realizing, he’s under her, as his right arm is wrapped around her, and his left hand is holding hers securely, still. She notices John must have pulled the blanket up to drape over her as she slept. He was so considerate.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. Did I fall asleep on you?” she questions, voice quiet, as she sits up, looking at him.

“Yeah, actually. About 30 minutes in to the movie.” John smiles.

“How long was I out?” she scratches her head. Her hair is tousled, right on the side that had rested on John’s chest.

“Well, the movie finished about an hour ago.” John chuckles. Y/N’s eyes grow wide, and she gasps lightly.

“John, why didn’t you wake me up! We were supposed to spend time together.” She frowns. “I’m so sorry.” She sighs, rubbing her forehead. “John, you look like you haven’t moved an inch…did you stay like that the entire time?”

“Yeah, I guess.” He says, scratching the back of his head.

Y/N’s eyes grow gloomy, and she feels horrible. “Oh my gosh, baby, you must be so stiff. I’m sorry.” She says, touching his shoulder.

“I’m okay. I couldn’t bring myself to wake you. I really liked it, though.” He smiles, staring into her eyes. As he moves his arm, however, he can’t help but wince at the sudden movement.

“John, please tell me you’re okay.” She grabs his arm, concerned.

“I’m all good, angel.”

Her expression suddenly moves from concerned, to a light, pink hue to blush over her cheeks. Her smile reaches all the way up to her eyes, and they sparkle. “John, did you really just sit still for two hours, just so that I could have a nap?”

John shrugs, unable to hide his dreamy smile. Y/N’s heart grows warm this time, in awe at the man in front of her. This amazing, remarkable, compassionate, gentle, dream of a man. She couldn’t believe how lucky she had fallen to find him, to have him walk into her life, and become such a big part of it so quick.

She brings one of her arms to entwine with his once again, leaning forward, to cup his bearded cheek with the other. She stares at his lips first, and then into his earthy, espresso eyes.

“You’re a good man, John.” She says sincerely, placing a loving, admiration and respect filled kiss onto his cheek. “A really, really good man.” She kisses the corner of his mouth this time.

John can’t help it, the moment is perfect, and she’s so close. They’re so connected in this moment, its picture-perfect.

“I think I’m falling in love with you.” He breaths, close to her lips, barely above a whisper. 

“I know I’ve fallen in love with you.” She assures, his cheek still resting in her hand, her thumb grazing the skin under his eye, as she connects their lips, in a searing, honey drenched kiss 

*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•* 

#john wick x reader #keanu reeves x reader #john wick fanfiction #john wick imagine #john wick x you

[scribbling-stiks]

AAR - III - Close Call

The phone begins ringing again, and Russia jerks out of his thoughts.

'What is that?'

Then the ringing registers and Arizona answers, turning off the radio and connecting to the speaker with the phone.

"Hey, can everyone hear me?" California asks.

Texas gave affirmation, as did others from other cars.

"Okay, so, I think York-y and I figured out what happened. We're pretty sure some official is working as an informant and is tracking purchases from our cards."

"So renting hotel rooms is out of the question," Dixie comments.

"Unless we stock up on cash, yeah," California answers, "and I don't think we should be withdrawing anything right now though. I'm afraid they're right on our tail."

"Well, what should we do? I can't drive constantly," Texas says.

"And I can't sleep in a moving car," New Hamshire complains.

"How much longer can you guys drive?" Colorado asks.

"I can manage, but I'd rather get settled sooner than later," Texas replies.

Several other answers also come in, varying from "I'm fine" to "I'm about to pass out."

Colorado sighs.

"Dixie?"

"Yeah, kiddo?"

"The next road you can turn off onto, take it. It doesn't lead really anywhere, but the end shouldn't be visible from the main road."

"Hold up, how many cars are with us?" Utah asks.

There is a brief pause before Dixie answers, "11, the right number. Why?"

"I was just making sure," Utah replies.

Dixie sighs.

"Don't be scaring me like that," Dixie mutters.

Then a few moments of quiet, the car slows, and it turns down onto a gravel road. Russia hears the stones kicking up onto the underside of the car. Looking out the window, he sees how the trees overtake the sky.

The road winds and rocks loudly clang against the underside of the car.

Finally, they pull over and the overhead light in the car flickers on. America groans.

"Is it safe to get out?" Texas asks after pulling the parking brake.

"Yeah. Nothing here," Massachusetts replies.

"Come on, let's get out and find somewhere to sleep. If there ain't anywhere, we should just stay in the cars."

America gets up and stumbles out. Texas pulls Russia out in a fireman carry. Russia shivers at the winter air. He briefly sees the others begin to dig through the trunk and pull out blankets. The walk down the now narrowing path.

The wind whips by and Russia's shivering gets a little worse.

"Hey, can one of y'all toss a blanket on top of Russia here?" Texas asks.

Someone tucks a blanket around him and the wind feels less harsh.

"Why can't we just stay in the car?" Ontario asks. His siblings chime in with agreement.

"I got a very bad feeling about staying in the cars," Dixie replies begrudgingly.

"That is not a good reason," Quebec complains, her french accent making her nearly unintelligible.

Dixie stops and turns around.

"Please. Y'all have to trust me on this. We can't stay in the cars. We can't," Dixie says, a pleading look in his eyes.

The others look torn.

"Y'all, I think Dixie might be right 'bout this one," South Carolina says.

"Yeah. Let's just see if there's anything to stay in for the night. I ain't sleeping on the floor," Texas says, leaving the "again" unspoken.

There are a few more minutes of walking until they stumble upon an abandoned building. It looks like it used to be a homely one-story cabin. Now, both front windows are broken, and one is boarded up. It looks abandoned, but not unstable. The logs making up the outside walls are thick and dark.

"Hey Coco, wanna help me and New Mex search to make sure there's no one already here?" Texas asks.

Colorado nods and a group of four states walk in, guns out, and clear the house. It takes only a few moments for them to reappear and wave everyone inside. Russia looks around and sees that the cabin only has one room and a curtain that used to be used to divide the space is ripped, and the entire interior is covered in pieces of discarded items.

"Who's keeping watch?" Dixie asks.

"I will," Connecticut volunteers.

A few other states volunteer, and Texas lays Russia down on one of the blankets that had been put on the ground, his back against the wall. America snuggles up next to him, laying in his lap. Once America lies down, the states follow. Before he knew it, Russia finds himself surrounded by a huge group of people shuffling around. A bit of complaining rang out, but it quiets quickly. Surrounded by people, and America tucked under his arm, Russia feels warm.

The younger children try their best to push their way to the center of the group to America. When America was covered, some of them even took places against Russia.

Russia didn't know what to do. He knew there wasn't much to do, with his limited movement, but being surrounded like this, made him feel shielded, almost protected. Although he wanted to be the one doing the protecting, having all these people who seemed to trust him, surrounding him.

He felt less exposed.

Unfortunately, this does not last.

Russia doesn't remember when he'd drifted off, but he woke up to the sound of a muffled walkie talkie and shuffling outside the building.

Even if he could move, he lays frozen in terror.

He stares around and sees that the people who were on watch had drifted off against one of the walls, except for Dixie. Dixie stares up with wide eyes at the window behind Russia's head, in his hands is a shotgun. Dixie meets Russia's eyes and brings a finger to his lips as if to shush him.

"What are we even looking for?" a voice says.

"The people who were in those cars," a second voice replies, a deeper tone than the first.

'Who is that?'

"But how do we even know they're here?"

"This is the direction they left too."

'Oh no. What are they doing here? Are they some of the soldiers that were chasing us? They have to be.'

Russia tries to keep his breathing as calm as he can manage. In through the nose and out through the mouth. He had to keep quiet. He had to.

"Well, what cars were they supposed to be driving anyway?"

"..."

"You're no help."

"Well, the cars are empty. I opened 'em up and checked. You think anyone's in here?"

"Nah. Listen, I'm f***ing freezing, and I don't want to be walking around here any longer than I gotta be. Besides, it's almost dawn and the cars are cold. We'll just tell 'em we found a few cars from an old wreck. I am not going in there."

"We have to investigate. We can't just go back without looking."

'Please don't. Please don't,' Russia mentally begs.

"Oh, but why? It looks empty anyway and I don't want to run into any rattlesnakes."

There is a long sigh.

"Fine, we'll go back to the patrol car. But we are keeping watch."

"Yes."

The footsteps lead away, and the crackling leads away from the cabin's wall. Russia holds his breath until he hears a nearby car roar to life.

"Wha-" America starts, rubbing his face.

Dixie shushed him harshly. America falls silent and looks up to Russia.

"What's going on?" he mouths.

Russia shakes his head. When America begins to sit up, Russia sloppily puts his arm on America's back, trying to pull him down. America relents, giving Russia a confused and panicked look.

'Please, don't say anything. Please. They're too close. Please stay quiet. Please.'

America stares into his eyes.

America looks away and closes his mouth, still looking confused, but he puts his head back down into Russia's lap.

The car speeds around the area, and Russia can still almost make out some of the conversations the soldiers were having around the area as they would occasionally get out and continue to stray closer and closer to the cabin. Russia feels paralyzed, and the look on Dixie's face makes Russia believe that he felt the same.

America still looks confused but doesn't argue, but instead of speaking, he just stares around, confused by the sounds around them. Then, the soldiers' conversations became intelligible again.

"Boss is not gonna be happy," the deeper voice says.

"And? I told you, I was looking through those windows and didn't see anybody."

"We should still check before we go."

Dixie clutches the gun tighter.

"Well, I don't hear anything. And besides, no one tried to run. Face it, no one is here."

"Then, what's with the cars?"

"They were cold when we got here. And no one was sleeping in them. Come on, let's get back to Lambda. Our shift is almost over anyway."

"I'm still gonna look."

Then he hears them walk around the house. America hurriedly sits up and pulls Russia down on top of him, curling around his head. America used his back to muffle the sound. America flinches after hitting the ground but doesn't make a sound.

Russia could have sworn he felt someone staring right at him.

'Please, no. No. NO. Please don't see us. Please.'

He could feel someone staring a hole into his side.

He bits his lip and tries to stay as still as he could. He hopes, prays that no one saw his subtle shivering.

There are a few moments of silence before the footsteps continue.

"Looks like it might be a couple of druggy squatters. Guess you were right."

"I told you!"

"Let's head back to base. Maybe they turned around and went the other way."

"That's what I've been saying!"

The footsteps trail away. The car started back up. He heard both doors open and both people get in, talking about something he hadn't listened to.

They drove off. Once the engine was out of earshot, America whines.

"America," he tries to say. His voice doesn't cooperate, and his mouth feels full of cotton.

America hisses in pain.

"I think I may have ripped the stitches or something," America stammers out quietly, his voice soaked in pain.

Dixie slowly pokes his head up, peeking out the windows. Once he does, he quickly makes his way over to America. the states silently shuffle out of his way.

"Why did you do that?!" Dixie hisses.

"He would've seen Russia," America defends, shaking.

Then Dixie gasps. "Oh my god, there's blood everywhere," he mutters.

Texas pulls Russia away and Massachusetts hurries forward. Virginia and Delaware herd the other states away to give California and New York enough space to work.

"Dad. You need to be more f***ing careful," Massachusetts hisses, summoning a dull green light.

New York and California quickly approach and Russia watches on, helpless as America tries not to thrash about while California and New York examine his wound. New York curses under his breath and Louisiana helps disinfect their hands and she sits nearby with Georgia, ready to step in if needed.

'What do we do now?'

~

Next

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Table of Contents

#rusame #ch russia #ch america #statehumans #countryhumans

[megalony]

A mother’s love- Part 4

Here is the latest part of my King! Ben Hardy series which I hope everyone is going to enjoy, there is a bit of fluff in this part for you all.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogermeddow @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @ambi-and-sunflowers @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @peterquillzsblog​

Series taglist: @onceuponadetectivedemigod​

Series masterlist

Summary: Ben and (Y/n) lost their first baby but now they have a baby boy together, an heir to the throne. But life is far from easy when (Y/n)’s mental health starts to take a bad turn.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Lizzy... where's (Y/n)?" The uncertainty in Ben's voice contrasted to the smile he was trying to force in order to hide the panic building up in his chest as he quickly scanned his eyes around the familiar room once again.

Once his eyes did a sweep of the room Ben confirmed that it was only him and the young maid who were present in the room. This was not what Ben had been expecting when he came in here after his meeting finished, Ben was expecting to see either (Y/n) laying in bed or sitting at the window with James in the cot. He wasn't expecting the room to be bare and to find Lizzy making the bed since the room wasn't occupied.

Ben truly didn't want to be the kind of husband who had to know where his wife was at every given point in the day, he didn't want to be that controlling or intruding. But right now, Ben couldn't shake the panic he felt whenever he left (Y/n) to go to a meeting or to get some work done, he wouldn't even leave the palace for any events that had previously been planned.

"She said she was going to take James out to the garden, your Majesty." Lizzy did a quick curtsy and a nod in Ben's direction before she turned back to straighten the sheets on the bed. She looked down at the sheets as soon as she spoke so she wouldn't witness Ben's reaction, missing the way that his brows furrowed and his lips parted but no words escaped.

For just over two weeks since James was born (Y/n) hadn't left their room unless to go into the adjoining study or bathroom. Ben knew it was very unlike (Y/n) to just go straight out into the garden without thinking about it or planning it beforehand. (Y/n) hadn't wanted anyone but very close family or Lizzy to see her or James, why would she voluntarily venture out of their room and through the palace to the garden when people would see her?

The knowledge that (Y/n) was finally getting back up and about didn't make Ben feel as happy or relieved as it should have done because the panic he was feeling was overtaking everything else.

He knew he should be happy that (Y/n) was feeling well enough to start trying to get into a new sort of routine or just walking about rather than locking herself away in their room. But something about this didn't settle well with Ben. He knew for a fact that over the last week (Y/n) had slept very little, even when for a few nights this week Ben had kept James in the study with him to do work and let (Y/n) rest. She was hardly sleeping and she wasn't eating very much either and it was making her feel more tired and exhausted. He didn't think she looked very well this morning when he saw her, despite her clearly being in a better mood.

Nor did Ben think (Y/n) would willingly leave their room with James with how she had been towards him last night. (Y/n) had set James down in the crib in the afternoon and then refused to even go near him after that like a switch had been flipped in her head and she was suddenly dead set against their son. Ben had been scared to the point of not sleeping so that when James woke up he could see to him instead of (Y/n). Whenever James cried or started to wail it made (Y/n) cry and Ben thought she was about to scream at the newborn last night, she seemed so panicked and unsettled when she looked at their baby.

With that thought playing on his mind, Ben turned around and left the room without a word. He had no business to attend to until this afternoon so there was nowhere Ben had to be right now meaning he could calm his frantic nerves by going and finding (Y/n).

The small part of Ben that told him to let (Y/n) have this time alone was overruled by the knowledge that she wasn't at ease when she was with James. Ben only left (Y/n) on her own with James when he had business he needed to sort out but even doing that was beginning to worry him in case (Y/n) felt she couldn't cope with being on her own with James. Ben would never hold that against her because he knew this wasn't easy on (Y/n) but she was insisting everything was fine and Ben couldn't say or do anything against her word because he had to have trust and faith in her.

He tried to tell himself that he had faith in (Y/n) right now but he knew his panic had a reason. It wasn't that he didn't trust (Y/n) with James, it was that he didn't know what would happen if she got upset or overloaded. Being a mother wasn't very easy on (Y/n) right now and Ben would hold it against himself if he just left (Y/n) right now and then found out that she needed him in any way.

Ben slowed himself down until he was walking and not jogging with the urge to run. He couldn't have anyone thinking anything was wrong and if he found (Y/n) and was out of breath or running over to her then she would know something was wrong.

'What am I doing?'

Ben had half the mind to turn around right on the spot and just go sit in one of the drawing rooms until his next meeting came around. He shouldn't be chasing after his wife worrying that something was wrong, it wasn't fair to (Y/n) it was being cruel thinking that he had to go and find her now because she decided she wanted to get back to normal. But Ben couldn't compel himself to turn around or head in a different direction.

He knew his wife and he knew this was out of character, she would have at least told him that she was thinking about going outside or even leaving their room. (Y/n) was calculated and had to think through her every action, she was by no means impulsive like this.

When Ben headed out of one of the doors, he stopped still and took a few moments to try and think which part of the vast garden (Y/n) would have gone into. When he thought about where he normally found his wife, Ben turned right and started heading for the East part of the garden He knew (Y/n) loved the small patch of roses and lilies near the path that led to the lake.

There was a mix of relief and bewilderment when Ben's eyes finally landed on his wife.

Ben stayed a few feet away just so he could observe (Y/n) for a few moments, trying to decide whether he should go over and say something or just turn around and leave when he knew she was fine. But the longer he took her in and watched her, the more his state of confusion grew.

(Y/n) was sitting on the bench opposite the rose bush but she looked far too calm for Ben's liking when he knew she had been anxious this morning before he left. She had asked him to stay with her so he promised as soon as the meeting finished he would come back and see her. (Y/n) had gotten changed since Ben last saw her about three hours ago. She was wearing one of her dresses that was his favourite, it was a white summer dress with red flowers sewn into it which fitted with the warm weather today. And her hair was tied up in a loose ponytail that made Ben want to smile so bad.

She had one leg crossed over the other and James settled on her lap leaning up in her arm. There was a gentle smile on (Y/n)'s lips but a rather distant look in her eyes like she was somewhere else entirely in her mind.

Releasing the breath he didn't realise he had been holding in, Ben slowly approached (Y/n) and managed to sit down next to her before she seemed to break out of her trance and realise that Ben was there.

"Fancied a walk?" Ben asked quietly as he clasped his hands together between his knees. There was a gentle smile on his lips as he head turned to the right in (Y/n)'s direction and he felt his heart flutter in his chest when she smiled. It felt like such a long time since he'd seen her properly smile at him like that and if he didn't still feel like something was wrong his heart would have felt complete right then.

"Hmm, I thought he might like the garden."

(Y/n) leaned her head on Ben's shoulder whilst her eyes focused on the sleeping baby in her arms who hadn't been very fussy all morning for some strange reason. It seemed to be James' fun and joy to watch (Y/n) struggle when he cried at her, but during the three hours that Ben had been in his meeting, James had been oddly calm. He only whimpered once or twice, he was perfectly fine when (Y/n) picked him up and she felt more at ease and able to cuddle him when he didn't cry.

The longer (Y/n) held James this morning, the more content she felt with him and it gave her a sudden rush of adrenaline. She had gotten about three or hour hours sleep last night which was better than she had been doing and when she woke up, (Y/n) felt different. She wasn't overly happy or bright but she didn't feel like she was dreading what the day had install and when she realised how calm James was with her, she felt on top of the world.

Somehow, (Y/n) knew that she still didn't feel normally towards James, what she felt wasn't what she wanted to feel nor what she should be feeling. She didn't feel like she loved him.

(Y/n) knew every time she looked at Ben she felt waves of love and understanding towards and from him and it was like some kind of magic she possessed. But with James, she didn't have any magic or powers at all. She felt that he was an inconvenience at times, someone she could tolerate but didn't really want to in her heart. She was fond of him and wanted to hold him and care for him, but it didn't feel like love. How could she love someone who wanted to torment her? She should, but she didn't and she didn't know why. There was no switch in her mind to turn on so she could pour her love onto James, all of her love seemed to drain away when she was around him.

"Everything okay?" Ben moved his hand to rest on (Y/n)'s lower back but when he looked down at her, he noticed there were tears falling lightly from her eyes. She couldn't tell him.

If (Y/n) told Ben that she didn't feel like she loved James in the way she wanted or the way she should it would break him. She was so desperate to be a mother but this isn't what she had planned. (Y/n) didn't plan on a baby that wanted to hurt her in so many ways, she didn't plan on wishing for him to disappear when he screamed yet feeling an ache to hold him when he was compliant.

"I'm happy." (Y/n)'s lips curved into a smile and she wiped at the few stray tears with the back of her hand. She was feeling a mix of emotions, one of which was guilt for not loving her son like she should, but the other emotions were more overwhelming. (Y/n) felt relief and a sense of freedom and a small glitch of happiness she was desperately trying to keep hold of. Her tears were because of her mixed emotions but she was making sure she kept feeling happy.

That was the reason she was out of her room, because she was in an elated mood and she couldn't let it slip away from her so soon.

"Good," Ben's smile felt a little bit more genuine before he leaned in to kiss (Y/n)'s temple when she perched her chin on his shoulder so she could look up at him. "Why don't we go and get something to eat, you haven't eaten anything yet." Ben knew well enough to know that in the three hours he'd been away from her, (Y/n) hadn't had anything to eat and she'd had very little of her breakfast too. He was praying that since she was in a bit of a better mood she might be more inclined to have something to eat.

But his lips pursed when (Y/n) shook her head like it wasn't a big deal or decision, her smile still present on her features before she suddenly stood up.

"I want to go on a walk, will you come?" (Y/n) looked back over her shoulder at Ben when she slowly started walking, her smile widening when he rolled his eyes but complied anyway and followed after her.

Standing at her side, Ben wrapped his arm around (Y/n)'s waist, allowing his eyes to drift between his wife and his son. There was something about (Y/n)'s smile that both made Ben feel relaxed yet uneasy at the same time. He was relaxed because she was at ease and she wasn't upset or in pain and that made him so happy to see. But she didn't look like her mind was fully at rest, there was a look behind her eyes that was as if she was hiding something or felt something she couldn't let him see.

Whenever (Y/n) was upset or angry or confused or worried or hurt she would tell him or let him in and he could see it so clearly. But right now she was hiding those feelings from him and he didn't know why. He wanted to help but he didn't know what he could do.

Ben pulled (Y/n) just a little bit closer into his side before he pressed his lips to the side of her head to try and calm down his jumping heart. He watched with intrigue in his eyes as (Y/n) moved her hand so she could brush her finger over James' cheek as he seemed to wriggle a bit due to being moved but something about the action seemed different. There was a sense of love and endearment in (Y/n)'s touch, but it was also like she was telling him something or willing him to stay asleep.

Her eyes weren't properly looking at James either, she was looking through him.

But Ben brushed off the thought because he knew James crying seemed to upset (Y/n) and that was okay. He could see she couldn't quite handle it when he cried or even screamed and Ben couldn't expect (Y/n) to be perfectly fine with every aspect of having a baby and being a mother.

He wished every day could just be like this, so laid back and relaxed and happy rather than filled with anxiety and confusion and dread. But something told Ben that this wasn't an everyday occurrence, he doubted a day like this would roll around again for a while.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"(Y/n), where are we going?" Ben couldn't stop his lips from curving up into a smile, nor could he help the way his brow rose and his head tilted back to try and get his wife to tell him what she was up to. He had to get going for his meeting in about half an hour and he had been hoping to try and get (Y/n) to either get some rest or try and eat something in that time but she seemed to have other ideas.

With how energetic and at ease she seemed to be right now, Ben thought he was better trying to get her to have something to eat but before he could try and say anything, she grabbed his hand and was off down the corridor.

James was back in his cot with Lizzy making sure he was tended to and alright and (Y/n) didn't want to go back to their room just yet. She was too engrossed in making sure these feelings she felt lasted as long as she could make them and staying in their room for the rest of the day was only going to bring her mood crashing down. Staying with James was going to make her crash land too.

But (Y/n) was determined and so the moment James was out of her arms, she took Ben's hand and dragged him behind her down the corridor, not slowing down despite his protests.

"Somewhere quiet, somewhere away from that room."

Ben couldn't be sure whether (Y/n) was referring to the room in itself since she had confined herself there for over two weeks, or if she was possibly referring to getting away from James. But he dared not try and pick up on what she meant, he pushed the thought from his mind to concentrate on the fact that (Y/n) was clearly feeling more like herself today.

Saying nothing, Ben simply smiled and allowed (Y/n) to pull him down a set of stairs and around a few corners before he realised where they were going. His suspicions were confirmed when (Y/n) opened the door to the drawing room the pair of them usually frequented when they had the free time.

(Y/n) felt something sparking in her chest and she didn't care if it was adrenaline, excitement or just a calming wave of serenity that came with being in this room without the dreading thoughts of her baby and without her baby in her arms. The drawing room wasn't anything special like the ball room or the dining hall, it wasn't grand or beautiful or anything to show off, and that was exactly why (Y/n) liked it.

The drawing room had a few very comfy sofas and armchairs in, there was a book shelf despite being so close to the library. The curtains were blackout in case they wanted to come here at night or didn't want the sunlight to come through but when the light came through it made a perfect orange glow light up the room. This room felt more homely than any other part of the palace and it was quiet and secluded, the couple could be alone and without worry or people trying to find them here.

Once they entered the room, (Y/n) finally came to a stop and spun round very fast on her heels before she wrapped her arms around Ben's neck, taking him by surprise. He stayed still for a few seconds whilst (Y/n) held him as tight as she could, burying her face into his chest to breathe in his scent before he finally seemed to become unstuck. His arms locked tightly around her waist to keep her pressed against his chest before he tipped his head down so his face was in her hair.

He had to admit, this was nice.

"Can we stay here forever?" (Y/n) didn't really know if she meant for Ben to hear what she had said or not but she didn't really mind that he did. She smiled into his chest when she felt him slowly swaying them side to side like he was dancing to a song in his head.

"I don't know, forever's a long time sweetheart." Ben slowly rubbed his hand up and down her back as he closed his eyes, continuing to sway them to the silence that was wrapping around them like a comforting hug to them both.

Ben had feared for hours when James was born that (Y/n) would push him away with how she was feeling and how distressed she was. He didn't know how to help and he thought she wouldn't want him to help either but he had been the most relieved in his life to know that she wanted him close like this. And to just hold her like this without any worry or tears or any pain and distress was a moment of magic that Ben truly did want to last forever, even if he knew it wouldn't.

"As long as I spend it with you." Tilting her head up, (Y/n) didn't bother to open her eyes when she leaned and pressed her lips against Ben's neck, feeling his forehead moving until the side of his head was resting against her own.

(Y/n) knew they didn't have long before Ben had to go to his meeting and she knew he was going to try and get her to go and rest or have something to eat, but that was okay. She didn't care how long they stayed like this or how this moment was making tears well in her eyes and she didn't know why. (Y/n) just wanted to stay like this for a little while longer because with Ben holding her, she felt so much better.

Shivers ran up and down (Y/n)'s spine when one of Ben's arms wrapped tighter around her waist before his other arm moved so that his hand was resting on the nape of her neck to try and hold her as close to his chest as he could manage. Ben didn't know if he would be able to let this moment disappear when it came time for him to go. He didn't want this to end like a dream and to have to go back to reality because this was everything.

Maybe things were finally starting to look up.

#ben hardy #ben x reader #ben hardy imagine #imagine #BoRhap #royalty #dad! ben #a mothers love

[taurusjaehyun]

just a little bit of your heart // j.jh

♦Pairing: Jaehyun x fem reader

♦Other Members/ Characters: Johnny, Taeyong, Doyoung, Hyuck, Ten, Jisoo, Rose and Mingyu

♦Genre: ANGST!!!

♦Warnings: unrequited love, mentions of smut, sad, shitty situations, y/n is very very sad and in love, cheating

♦Word count: 3,978

♦Story: A little is better than none.

 Note: Hiiiii!! I’m back! I know I’ve been MIA in a while but life just happened and so many situtations led me to lose inspiration over writing, esp with Jaehyun (for reasons induced by other jaehyun fans L) and life was generally shitty esp with my already bad mental health lol a anyways, here’s an angsty piece that I’ve been working on for a while since I was sad lol I hope you guys enjoy it! Some references to Ariana Grande’s Just A Little Bit Of Your Heart which is sad af lol.

                                                             ----------------------

 “No. I never loved you and I don’t think I ever will, y/n. I wanna say sorry but I’m not. I know you love me but I really don’t think I can give it back.”

 Ouch.

 For once, you wanted to initiate the kisses that led to fucking just so he could shut the fuck up, much like how he’d shut you up when you kept asking if he loved you. You kept asking him if he finally loved you, and you had begged just even for a little bit of his heart but he never gave you just a hint, even. At least now, he was being honest. After one year. The one year you begged for him to date you just so you could convince him and make him fall for you.

 Throughout the year you spent together, Jaehyun was an excellent boyfriend to you. He provided what you needed more so on the physical side because when it came to feelings, he couldn’t give you anything more than what he already gave. You were thankful he didn’t change the way he was around you and how he treated you as a friend, especially after you started dating. There was really nothing more to being his girlfriend except the dates and the sex.

 You could feel your already broken heart shatter even more. Of course you knew he didn’t love you. He never said and showed he did. And he definitely wasn’t sorry.

“I’d like for us to stay friends, though. I love you as a friend and I don’t wanna lose you over this.” He speaks out, completely calm and reasonable. The hand he had on your thigh felt more foreign than ever.

You give him a tight smile and try to get away from his hold, sitting up and leaning on the headboard of your bed where the two of you had just gone through heated rounds of sex. Couldn’t this have waited after you two were dressed? But he was probably wanting this moment to happen soon anyways so it doesn’t drag out because he’s just too nice. That was the problem with him, he was too damn nice.

“I… Thank you for tolerating me,” you smile, exhaling in the process. You couldn’t let him show how you could feel your insides shatter into powder and that the pain was seeping to your skin and bones. It hurt so much. You couldn’t breathe.

Jaehyun stayed silent but offered you a sheepish smile. It was as if he expected you to just accept his revelation and break up with you even though everyone, especially him, knew how you’d been in love with him for ages.

  The break up news wasn’t as shocking to people as you thought it would. Everyone saw it coming and they were just counting down until the two of you parted ways. Men and women were flocking him and you couldn’t stay mad as he treated them the same way he’d treat everyone while he was dating you but, the problem now is, he never loved you so who’s to say he wasn’t already entertaining people while you two were together?

 Your ‘friends’ saw this coming. Ten, one of the people that clearly expressed that he was not so fond of you, had brutally told you that it was about time before you eventually broke up because according to him, ‘Jaehyun was as interested in you like oil and water wanted to mix’. It hurt and it was embarrassing as he told you that in front of everyone. Even when you were together, he’d even make comments about you and Jaehyun sometimes when you were still together.

 Almost all of your group of friends had agreed with Ten, basically. With the way you were acting like everything was okay and that you were completely fine with parting ways with Jaehyun, everyone thought you had moved on from him. Though Jaehyun had said that the break-up was mutual, they never failed to tease you and tell you that Jaehyun probably dumped you which was real shitty, to be honest, but it was true anyways so you couldn’t deny it.

 You had no one to talk to. It was either they didn’t really care or they sided with Jaehyun. You weren’t apart of the original crew of friends anyways. Now that you’ve broken up with Jaehyun, it felt like there was no reason to spend time with them anymore.

 Jaehyun was very popular in university so of course, everyone knew him and wanted him. While people mostly knew you as the girl who chased after Jaehyun, became friends with him and finally got what she wanted when you successfully got him to date you. No one but you and Jaehyun knew about the one year you begged from him after he had turned you down after your very well prepared confession. Despite that, everyone wasn’t convinced your relationship was out of love in the first place. You’d make Jaehyun turn up in public with your marks inflicted in ‘passionate nights’ but everyone thought of it as purely sexual.

 Everyone knew Jaehyun didn’t like you that way and he was just too nice.

 2 weeks after, you go through the motions as if nothing has changed. You restrain yourself and start to stay away from Jaehyun. You don’t really actively reach out for him, or get close to him like you’d normally would. He’d assume his position beside you because ‘that’s what he was used to and you’re still a good friend to him’.

 You’d decided that little was better than none. You’d take this the feeling of your chest hurting just to see, feel and be with Jaehyun.

 “Did you sleep with her?” Haechan asks, teasing Jaehyun. Jaehyun had started going out with the guys again and although you didn’t wanna know, you were still in this table where the friends shared everything within themselves.

 “No, no! We’re still getting to know each other and besides, we both just got out of a relationship.” Jaehyun explains as he throws a piece of fry he stole from your plate into his mouth.

 Doyoung grunts, flicking Hyuck’s forehead which made the sophomore groan in pain. “Dude, his ex is literally beside him and it’s only been weeks. Rude.” Doyoung scolds Haechan who only retaliates back.

 “Oh, I forgot about you, sorry.” Hyuck shrugged nonchalantly, knowing that jab was directed to you. Without missing a beat, another topic overtakes the table and you’re left to your thoughts again.

 You lose your appetite and decide the peas in your mashed potatoes were very much interesting—just to tune out the others conversation. You tended to overthink and you admit for the past 2 weeks, you’ve thought of nothing except Jaehyun, especially when you were in bed. At night is where usually everything comes crashing down.

 2 weeks of sleepless nights full of tears and no one has noticed nor mentioned it. But you think it’s actually better than actually having to explain yourself. No one had heard your side of the story after the break up and how especially hard it was for you, of course. No one knew what was said and what transpired between your relationship.

 You always thought Jaehyun was just particular about his privacy but turns out, he was doing damage control and not letting people assume about your relationship so when the time came, no one could get in your business because they knew nothing at all. You felt stupid because now it’s clear that it was more like a day dream in your head. Jung Jaehyun, turns out, wasn’t as nice as everyone thought he was.

 You had your classes timed in your phone since you always managed to be late, mostly to the fact that Jaehyun had you pressed against a wall, crying for him, so when your alarm for your next class goes off, you quietly leave the table and as expected, no one really noticed. You liked it better that way.

 As your presence with Jaehyun’s friends started to become non-existent, you started having your food in the courtyard instead of the cafeteria where Jaehyun and his friends usually ate. They’d text you on your whereabouts but you managed to make excuses and you recently joined an org in uni that took up your time and your focus so they didn’t really bother asking much for you. You had a few classes with them anyways.

 Jaehyun texted you whenever he could, though. After all, before you dated, you were the closest to him so it’d be weird not to answer his messages. You had agreed to be friends with him anyways after that night when he dumped you. You did your best to reply, of course, you didn’t want to disappoint him. Again, a little was better than none.

 Most of the time, you’d end up thinking about wanting to cry about Jaehyun that eating became physically taxing and annoying, and you throw yourself in so much work and studying that you barely had time to rest and it didn’t help that Jaehyun was everywhere in your dorm as well so you resorted to sleeping in one of the empty classrooms.

 And that was where you saw him with her.

 You had no idea of what Jaehyun had been up to except for the stuff he’d tell you on text, but you definitely knew he always had had his eyes on this one girl from your Politics class and she definitely was very interested, and now even more that he’s single and you’re definitely out of the picture.

 Jaehyun and Mina were at the front of the room, with Jaehyun pressing the perfect Mina against the board, passionately kissing her in the classroom you were occupying. It seemed like they hand’t noticed ur existence as you were jolted awake when her heel hit the wooden tables when Jaehyun had lifted her from the table and onto his lap before pressing her against the wall, kissing her so slowly and passionately.

 He’d never kissed you that way. No matter how much he kissed you, how harder he fucked you, this was the most you’ve ever felt actual feelings from him. You couldn’t deny the painful jab at your heart so you distract yourself, thinking about your tiredness and want to sleep. You try to force yourself again back to sleep so you had to listen to them making out while talking like lovers. You didn’t cry at all, and you were damn proud, but after they had left, you missed your class and went straight to your dorm, seeing his ghost again. Seeing the ghost of him from your past memories was better than the Jaehyun you saw earlier. You couldn’t deal with him after that.

 After that, you’d completely tried to ignore Jaehyun and his friends. They were never your friends. You’d just smile and wave at them when you see them at classes but there was no point for conversation. They’d text you but it was over nothing. And not to mention that Ten was being extra cold and hurtful with the texts he sent you, knowing you being absent around them was because of Jaehyun.

 From TY:

-          I know you love him a lot.

-          I’m always here if you need to talk.

 From JCC:

-          We miss u broski 😔 we’ll kick Jaehyun and his new gf out for u just come back 😂

-          Oh. Sorry, they’re together now tho... I didn’t mean to tell you... but Ig it’s only right.

-          JN: Sorry :(

 From Junguwu:

-          Hang in there, y/n :) fighting!

 From: Hyuck

-          JAEHYUN HAS A NEW GF???? LMAOOO

-          Suck it up and come back! Show him u don’t need him 🤪

 From Doyoung:

-          You ok?

-          I guess you already know about Jaehyun and his new gf?

-          Take care of yourself, y/n. I know you love him a lot.

 From Jaehyun:

-          Y/n?? Where are you??

-          Miss hanging out with u!!

-          Imma buy u fries just hang out with us again!! I have sumn to tell u!!

-          Im seeing Mina now!! Reply when u see this!

 You busied yourself with the new organization you joined and turns out, the news of Jaehyun dating Mine was bigger than expected, well not to you. It had been a long time coming anyways. Mina and Jaehyun were hooking up even way before you and Jaehyun got together. Jaehyun and Mina were both well known to be one of the most beautiful people in campus and it just made sense they’d date. People were even calling them the most beautiful couple even before they met so needless to say, this couple was approved and well supported by the people in your uni, not just your department.

 You were old news. It had just been 3 months since you and Jaehyun broke up and it was long forgotten. However, comparison wasn’t avoided now that Jaehyun was dating a goddess in his league now, compared to when he dated you, a nobody. You were just known for being the girl that Jaehyun dumped after a year.

 Some people though, find it funny that you were still so obviously into Jaehyun. Your parting ways with Jaehyun and his friends was not unnoticed by the gossip mills in the uni. Out of spite and pure entertainment, people would as you about Jaehyun and how your relationship was, which you ignore—for the most part. Some people are just really interested in him and how it was dating him, and most people asked how he was in bed and of course, you didn’t answer. You tried to distance yourself from him and anything to do with him. You didn’t realize how popular Jaehyun was, honestly. You knew so many people were against you when you were friends and even more so when you started dating.

    You decide to go out again, linking up with a few girls in your org, Jisoo and Rose. It was a club you’ve never been before and you’re glad because they were actually good company. After the break-up with him, you often hung out with them because of the time you spent in the org and you’ve been inseparable ever since.

 It wasn’t common for you to wake up with a stranger next to you for the past 2 months. You heard that Jaehyun started sleeping around a week after you broke up and even if you tried to act like it didn’t hurt, it really did. He was always one to sleep around but he assured you he was loyal when you were together and you gave yourself to him whenever he needed you so he wouldn’t stray but clearly, that wasn’t enough to keep him.

 You recognize your one night stand as Mingyu who you had class with last semester and was good friends with Jaehyun. Not that it mattered, though.

“You were crying last night,” Mingyu started when he passed you a bowl of cereal as breakfast from his position in the other side of the kitchen island. He had offered, of course.

 It wasn’t anything new, really. “Oh?”

 “You were calling his name, you know,” he started as he looked up at you, gauging your reaction, “even when I was fucking you.” He said awkwardly then cleared his throat.

 You sigh, clicking your tongue, “that’s embarrassing. I’m so sorry.” Again, it wasn’t anything new.

 “It’s ok. I know you love him. Everybody knows.”

 You frown, “is that supposed to be a good thing?”

 He looks at you and sees your less than welcoming expression. “No, I mean like, he knows you love him and everyone does. It shows. And it’s completely understandable why you’re hurt now that he’s... with Mina.” He cleared his throat when you visibly wince at the mention of Mina’s name. “He’d tell us... about you sometimes when we hung out.”

 You didn’t want anyone’s pity, honestly. “Yeah, well. See how that didn’t work out.” You laugh bitterly. “I gave him a lot of me and he never felt the same way. It’s ok, though. I mean...” you pause and start to eat your cereal and he nods.

 “Umm... I’m really sorry I don’t know how to comfort you but if it makes you feel any better...” he pauses, as if pondering then smiles before speaking again, “you’re a great fuck.”

 You burst out laughing, “well, that was the only way I could keep him, Mingyu.”

 Mingyu ended up dropping you off at your dorms on the way to his first class, and in his car so the walk of shame wasn’t as embarrassing. You didn’t forget what he told you before you came down the car.

 “You’re worth it, y/n and more than enough. Jaehyun isn’t just for you and it’s his loss, honestly.”

 You skipped on your first class, staring up the ceiling as you let the tears fall silently until you couldn’t breathe. Even with the amount of guys you’ve slept with, none of them compared to Jaehyun. You knew some of the guys you’ve slept with knew you were Jaehyun’s ex and if they didn’t, they’d know from the way you could call his name and cry for him in the middle of drunken sex. You felt extra bad for Mingyu as he turned out to be a great ear for you and the fact that he said that you were one of the best fucks he’s ever had while you couldn’t say the same.

 Sex was pointless at this point, honestly. You couldn’t feel anything but the emptiness and pain you felt while you were being fucked and usually, the after effects were you being sore. And the only way you would cum was when you’d think about Jaehyun fucking you but that made the pain in your heart grow. It was an annoying cycle.

    “Fuck me, Jaehyun.” You’ve admittedly had a little more to drink so it was the first thing you said as soon as you saw him. He was in a booth along with his friends and your arrival and opening words surprised them all, no doubt.

 “What are you doing here?” Jaehyun asks, confused. He’s never seen you at a club before and knew you didn’t like going to clubs. Well, you only started going after you broke up anyways so how would he know. Jaehyun and a few of the guys stand up, holding you in your drunk stupor.

 “Fuck me.” You mutter as you push yourself to him and catch his mouth in a heated kiss which he stops by pushing you away and wiping his mouth. That hurt.

 “What the hell is happening here?” Ten asks, confused and surprised as Jaehyun looks at you in so much shock.

 You were desperate and the alcohol inside you was giving you the push and confidence that you usally didn’t have. “Jaehyun, please. Fuck me. I’m begging you.” You plead, trying to kiss him and grind yourself against him that you smell Johnny’s familiar cologne and you just know that he was the one who pulled you away from Jaehyun and is currently holding you back. “I can’t feel anything. I can’t. Jaehyun, please. Fuck me. Make me feel. Please, please.”

 “Are you on drugs?” Johnny asks, scanning his eyes over you as he holds you back from Jaehyun.

 “I’m not high or drunk, Johnny. I just can’t take it anymore! I can’t feel anything! Just-I just need to feel something… anything.” You reach out for Jaehyun again and Johnny’s hold tightens around you. “I’ve tried fucking other guys, I even fucked Mingyu and the guys in your team but I... can’t. If they’re not you. I can’t fucking feel. Make me feel, Jaehyun. Please.”

 Jaehyun talks to the guys and they decided to leave you be, Jaehyun personally drives you to your apartment while they cover for him. Mina was there after all.

 He helps you to your house, not trusting you alone. Yes, you were drunk but you were aware of everything you were doing and saying. In the car, you didn’t shed a tear, keeping quiet. You basked in the feeling of anxiety he was giving you. It was better than not feeling anything at all.

 As soon as you got in your room, you kissed him and stripped. And of course, he did fuck you after you begged him. And he made you beg more and more in bed, too. The tears that you thought would run out, never stopped pouring as he fucked you. Because the person that you heart longed for was finally in your arms again.

 Your heart was full with him. His warmth filled your being, his scent filled your senses, his kisses left you breathless, hos touches leaving warmth in his wake, his cock filling you like no one has ever and his cum filling you to the brim. You felt everything all at once that you felt overwhelmed. You knew you were screaming how much you loved him as he was fucking you and you don’t regret it. You let him use you for his own pleasure as you cried for him. You’d take everything and anything you could for tonight.

 After multiple rounds of fucking, you were beyond exhausted but seeing him in the flesh beside you, in your bed again made you... feel. Before tonight, he was just a ghost in your home and in your mind. You’ve longed to see him like this again. You spent a lot of the night awake, watching him sleep, tracing the features of his beautiful face you’ve missed that you’ll probably won’t see again.

 “Am I ever gonna be someone worthy of your love?” You ask quietly as you stare at his serene face. It was unfair how beautiful he looked, even at his most vulnerable. “I miss you so much.” He shifts and you pull your hand back as if you were burned, tucking your hand away, feeling awkward. “I’ll never be enough for you and I know that. I don’t wish for you to feel the same way because I don’t deserve it. You deserve better. You deserve her. She’s everything I’m not…” You scoot away from him, giving him much space as possible. “But I wish I was her and you were mine.” You feel the tears fall down your temple and you quickly wipe it away. “I’ll never be deserving of you, even just a little bit of your heart, Jaehyun.”

  You decided to clean up, taking your time in the tub and wearing sweatpants and a hoodie to hide the marks he inflicted onto you. You didn’t want him to see, even if he knew what he was did. Walking was a bit hard to do because of the sex but it wasn’t new with him.

 You sit on the solo sofa by the bed, watching Jaehyun asleep, lying on his stomach and head facing you as he slept, mouth agape and body completely limp. You could see the scratch marks on his back and arms and the hickies on his neck too but frankly, you try not to care about it too much.

 You barely notice the sun coming up until the room is filled with light and the sun just highlights Jaehyun’s beauty more and more. You feel... everything all at once. The loss, the pain, the love, the anxiety, the despair, the desperation, the jealousy—everything. It had you feeling breathless, as if the air was knocked out of your lungs.

 You hated it but it was better than feeling numb. You’ve never been so lonely and unwanted before and you it hits you so hard.

 A little was better than nothing.

#jaehyun angst #jaehyun fic #jaehyun smut #jaehyun fanfic #jaehyun x reader #nct fanfic #nct angst #nct smut #nct fic #i hope yall like this #I have a smut Im finishing up so I can upload soon #I wanna talk to u guys :(

[echoes-of-realities]

be my fire in the cold (and I'll be waiting by the mistletoe) - 24/25

* * *

[From the Start] // [Fanfiction] // [ao3]

[Previous Chapter]

Chapter Summary: The Nutcracker has its last show; Santana and Brittany spend Christmas Eve together. 

Notes: We’re Almost there fam! Also the actual George Balanchine’s The Nutcracker doesn’t stop after Christmas and goes up to December 30th at least, but just for simplicity’s sake I’m taking artistic liberties and in this universe the ballet’s last show is today.

Chapter 24: watching old movies while the fireplace fades

///

The last show of the production’s run is at two, but Brittany still gets up early to help Mercedes finish up the last of her packing. She’s leaving with Sam as soon as the show is over tonight to head back home until New Year’s, her and Sam heading to her parents’ place first and then his; usually the company and crew will have a wrap-up party as soon as the last show is done, but with it being Christmas Eve and all, this production of The Nutcracker usually skips that tradition so everyone has more time with their families and has it sometime between Christmas and New Year’s.

Mercedes is just zipping up her suitcase when Brittany wanders into her room, yawning and absently pulling her messy hair up into an even messier bun. “Nee’ ‘elp?” she mumbles.

Mercedes giggles and rolls her eyes. “You’re only wearing one sock,” she comments mildly.

Brittany looks down, too tired to feel surprised, and shrugs. “Lefty was too hot,” she says nonchalantly, and Mercedes bursts into giggles. “I’ll help you take your stuff out to the living room.”

Mercedes hefts her suitcase off of the bed and motions to the pile of wrapped gifts in the corner of her room, all neatly packed into couple of reusable grocery bags. “You can grab those.”

“What time is Sam picking us up?” Brittany asks as she trails after Mercedes.

“Like, nine thirty-ish?”

“Cool,” Brittany says, “I’ll have time to tidy up then.”

“Why?”

Brittany feels a blush creep into her cheeks before she can even think to try and hide it, which probably would have proved useless anyways, since Mercedes has, like, hawk eyes when it comes to Brittany’s embarrassment.

Mercedes, sure enough, looks back and instantly spots Brittany’s blush, her grin taking on a wicked edge. “Oooh, is your girlfriend coming over?”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Brittany mumbles automatically, but even as she says the words it kind of feels like she’s lying.

“In all but name maybe,” Mercedes says, and Brittany has to concede her point.

“The name part of that is kind of important,” Brittany argues as she drops the presents beside Mercedes’ suitcase.

“Maybe,” Mercedes concedes, “But the feelings part is pretty important too, and that’s definitely there.”

Brittany smiles a little, almost involuntarily, as the thought of being in love with Santana still fills her with bright warmth, and hums in acknowledgement. “I invited her to spend Christmas Eve here since neither of us had any plans.”

“I’m happy for you, Brittany,” Mercedes says softly, and Brittany grins bashfully down at her toes, too distracted by the warmth blooming in her chest realize that Mercedes has started smirking at her. “Just don’t christen any public places please.”

“Mercedes!” Brittany squeals, patting at her cheeks as the blush burning there flares up into an inferno.

“And make sure you kids stay hydrated and well-fed, you don’t want to run out of energy.”

“No no no!” Brittany shrieks, fleeing backwards towards the bathroom, her skin burning bright red from forehead to collarbone, “I take back anything I ever said when you and Sam got together!”

Mercedes smirks because, considering the teasing she got back then, there's no way she's going to give Brittany a break now that she's in love. "Make sure you're safe!" she calls.

“Oh shut up!” Brittany calls back before slamming the bathroom door shut.

///

Even though it’s Christmas Eve, the theatre is surprisingly—or not so surprisingly—packed, people already starting to filter into the lobby even as the company and crew take their last lunch break of the show’s run an hour before half hour. Brittany’s always antsy for last shows, both excited for it to be over so she can finally rest (and, this year, spend the evening with Santana) but dreading it because it means that there will never be another show like this, with this particular group of dancers and kids and crew, ever again.

Santana brings her lunch from that sandwich shop she loves, the same place she bought lunch for them that very first time, kickstarting their almost daily lunch and supper dates. Santana doesn’t bother with any pretences, just sinks down to the floor right beside Brittany, taking her left arm and draping it over her shoulder so they can cuddle and eat. Mercedes, Sam, Tina, and Mike all show up about halfway through their break with an assortment of food between all of them, sprawling on the floor to complete the circle in an impromptu picnic and fondly teasing Brittany and Santana as soon as they all realize their spending Christmas together.

Every single time Mercedes catches Brittany’s eye she feels heat crawl up into her cheeks at the knowing glint there. Santana seems to notice something tense—not bad tense, just the knowing and teasing tension when you know your friend is laughing at you across the room—and quickly takes Brittany’s free hand, as soon as they’re both done eating, and pulls it into her lap to play with her fingers, tracing the webbing between each finger and pressing down on her knuckles like piano keys. It eases the blush from Brittany’s cheeks and softens the teasing glint in Mercedes eyes, and Brittany soaks in the feeling of being surrounded by so much love, from her friends and from Santana, before the chaos of the last show overtakes them.

///

The audience is electric during Brittany’s last performance, knowing it’s their last chance to see this show until next year, and Brittany dances better than she ever has before, knowing that Santana is hidden in the curtains watching. She dances for the audience and she dances for herself but, mostly, she dances for Santana, for the woman who brought laughter and love into her life, who brought her family to her, who brought her love of Christmas back.

Her bow goes on longer than normal as the audience cheers for her, and she’s breathing quickly as pride fills her limbs in place of heavy exhaustion. She exits the stage to continuing applause, waiting in the wings for Jake to go on and do the opening of the Coda before she joins him. She feels someone watching her, and a smile tugs at her lips before she even turns to catch Santana’s eye, and the smile on Santana’s face makes her stomach flutter with about a bajillion butterflies, her chest blooming with warmth and love.

Santana shakes her head a little, still smiling softly, as if she can’t quite believe that Brittany’s real, and Brittany gives a small wave, feeling her heartbeat everywhere, before she turns back to the stage and prepares to join Jake for the Coda, Santana’s gaze heavy and warm on her back as she steps back into the lights.

///

Mercedes helps her out of her costume and unpins her hair quickly so she can rush off to meet Sam and they can try and beat the rush out of the city back to her parents’ house tonight; since it’s the twenty-fourth already, nobody has to pack the show back up into storage until after Christmas.

Mercedes gives Brittany a tight hug before she leaves, still continuing her teasing and making Brittany blush all the way to the tips of her ears as she chases her best friend out the door and runs straight into Santana, who quickly gives Mercedes a brief hug goodbye before turning to Brittany with a wide smile.

“Hi!” Brittany greets brightly, pretending her skin isn’t splotched with pink despite Santana’s adoring gaze on the blush in her cheeks.

“Hey,” Santana says softly. She’s already dressed in her jacket and has a small bag of overnight stuff in one hand, wearing the scarf and hat that Brittany had lent her last week and tying Brittany’s stomach into knots at seeing her own clothes on Santana. “You ready to go?” she asks.

Brittany nods and they just smile at each other for long moments—Brittany taking in this moment, this feeling, this girl—before Brittany turns to shrug on her jacket and collect her things. Santana stands patiently by the door, waiting until Brittany’s locked her dressing room before she reaches out to take her hand, their fingers tangling together easily as they head down the hallway, Brittany quickly easing Santana’s bag from her other hand so she can carry it for her, not missing the smile Santana gives her or the way her stomach ties itself into warm knots at how couple-y it feels.

They wave goodbye and wish Merry Christmases to their friends as the pass them on their way out of the theatre, deciding to walk back to Brittany’s apartment since it’s still pretty nice out despite the snow that falls in gentle swirls of white as they step out onto the street, dusting Santana’s borrowed hat in a thin layer of white and sparkling in her dark lashes. Santana glances up at Brittany and smiles, bright and unabashed and dimples-deep, before looking forward again with that breathless, flustered look she gets when she blushes. Her cheeks are a little pinked, from the cold or her blush Brittany’s not sure, but it makes liquid warmth pool in her stomach, so happy and so in love that she doesn’t know how anything in the world could ever feel better than this.

Her attention is drawn across the street where two men hold the hands of a little boy, helping him take a couple stumbling steps before swinging him into a high arc, his giggles bright with childlike innocence even across the lanes of slow moving traffic.

“He’s cute,” Santana says beside her, drawing Brittany’s eyes back to hers.

“You’re cute,” Brittany says automatically but sincerely. Santana rolls her eyes a little but doesn’t even bother to bite back her smile. “We should stop on the store on the way past. We can get something for supper and maybe, like, baking stuff or something?”

“Baking?” Santana teases, and Brittany shrugs a little.

“What? I may be a disaster in the kitchen when it comes to baking but I know you aren’t,” Brittany says with a smirk, “Tina told me.”

Santana gasps over-dramatically. “What a traitor!”

Brittany just giggles and tugs a little on Santana’s hand in hers, pulling them even closer together and soaking up this feeling of unbridled joy.

///

The grocery store is insane, but they’re in no rush so they just wander the aisles leisurely, dodging over-excited kids and frantic parents and slow old couples, giggling at everyone rushing around despite the fact that they both just feel comfortable and relaxed.

Santana carries their two bags of groceries and snacks since Brittany still has her bag, and they tangle their fingers together again as soon as they step back out into the weak winter sun. It’s already past five, but they’re still in no rush as they head back to Brittany’s apartment, discussing their plans on which Christmas movies they have to watch and which ones they’ll skip.

Brittany takes the groceries from Santana and drops them off in the kitchen, directing Santana to turn the tree on and set up the living room for their movie marathon, before heading down the hall to drop Santana’s bag off too. She stands in the hallway for a long moment, fighting an internal debate before she finally pushes her door open and drops Santana’s bag by the dresser; she’s honestly not being presumptuous, because Mercedes offered her room if needed, she’s just being hopeful.

By the time she gets the groceries put away and a couple hot chocolates made, Santana is already snugged up on the couch, one blanket over her lap and the other around her shoulders, the lights turned off except for the Christmas tree and the television screen; she’s already figured out the DVD player and the empty case to Home Alone sits on the shelf of her and Mercedes’ combined collection.

Santana brightens as soon as Brittany comes into her view, shifting around until she can lift both blankets up for Brittany. It takes a little bit of maneuvering, but eventually they get settled against each other, curled under the blankets, without spilling a drop of hot chocolate. Santana quickly hits play on the DVD remote before tossing it onto the coffee table and taking her mug from Brittany.

“I used to watch Home Alone every single year,” Santana says quietly, a nostalgic smile on her face, “And I kind of want to restart that tradition.”

“But you’re not home alone,” Brittany teases.

Santana tries to give her a smug smirk but her eyes are as soft as her voice, “Maybe I want to make some new traditions.”

And, really, what can she say to that without shouting her love from the rooftops? So instead she just cuddles further into Santana and sips her hot chocolate.

Even though they start out sitting under the blankets, as soon as they finish their hot chocolate they end up laying out on the couch, Brittany flat on her back with Santana sprawled on top of her, repurposing Brittany’s breasts into her own personal pillow, and the blankets wrapped around them. Brittany ends up spending more time watching Santana and playing with her hair than she does watching Santana’s favourite Christmas movie, but watching Santana is her favourite thing so it’s a pretty fair tradeoff.

Her mom calls about three-quarters of the way through Home Alone and Santana lifts herself off of Brittany just enough to reach the remote and pause the movie before cuddling back into her while Brittany talks to her mom and curls a strand of Santana’s hair around her finger, and it feels so domestic that she can’t imagine doing anything else for the rest of her life.

After Home Alone they take a break to make supper, giggling the entire time as they weave around each other in the kitchen and end up spending more time laughing than they do eating.

Brittany runs to the bathroom while Brittany sets up another movie, laying back on the couch and waiting for Santana to see her choice.

Santana’s gasp is as satisfying as Brittany thought it would be as she grins up at the ceiling, waiting until Santana rounds the couch to stand in front of her, blocking out the dim lights from the Christmas tree and the title screen for Gremlins on the television.

“Brittany!” Santana whines.

“Santana!” Brittany teases.

“I swear to god, Brittany, if I get nightmares from this,” Santana threatens toothlessly.

Brittany just giggles and tugs Santana down to the couch with ease. She falls onto Brittany and instantly softens and sighs in contentment as Brittany wraps both her arms tightly around Santana and draws her further into her embrace, nuzzling into Santana’s hair until she can kiss her forehead.  “I’ll chase the nightmares away,” she promises. Santana’s breath hitches and she presses a kiss to Brittany’s collarbone, making Brittany’s skin burst into burning goosebumps at the feel of Santana’s soft lips on her skin.

“You better,” Santana mumbles into Brittany’s neck, waiting until Brittany reaches for the remote to play the movie before she nuzzles herself as close to Brittany as she can and still see the television.

Brittany thinks her heart might just burst from loving Santana so much.

///

They fall asleep sometime in the middle of Gremlins, waking up hours later to the twinkling Christmas lights against the night sky Brittany can see through the window, the television having automatically turned itself off after so long.

Brittany trails her fingers along Santana’s back and sides, drawing swirling patterns into the warm body above her with just enough pressure to gently wake Santana, who just cuddles further into Brittany instead of waking fully.

“We’re real party animals,” Brittany teases.

Santana grunts and nuzzles her nose into Brittany’s neck. “Saving it for New Year’s,” she grumbles.

Brittany laughs and feels a smile curl against her neck in response. They lay there for a couple more minutes until Santana finally emerges from Brittany’s neck, propping herself up on one elbow, the blanket falling from her shoulders, and glancing across the living room before gazing down at Brittany with the softest look on her face.

“Hi,” Brittany murmurs.

Santana’s eyes are liquid and dark and basically hold the secrets to the entire universe. “Hi,” she whispers, nodding her jaw towards the television with a small smile but not dropping her gaze from Brittany’s, “It’s eleven-eleven. Make a wish.”

Brittany glances to the side and sees the bright red time glowing on the television box thing that she never remembers the name of. She smiles and closes her eyes, wishing for the one thing she wants more than anything, the only thing she’s wanted all month.

“Did you make your wish?” Brittany asks after long moments of silence, her eyes still closed and her body feeling Santana along it even better with her lack of sight. Santana hums in acknowledgement and Brittany smiles blindly. “Good,” she whispers, “I hope it comes true.”

“Oh, I have a feeling it definitely will,” Santana murmurs, and the feeling of her thumb brushing along her cheek finally draws Brittany’s eyes open, fluttering at the sensation.

“Mine too,” Brittany whispers.

“Oh yeah?”

Brittany nods slowly, one hand stilling against the small of Santana’s back and the other one sliding along her shoulders under waves of dark hair, her fingers almost brushing the nape of Santana’s neck as Santana sighs and tilts her head down a little.

Santana’s face hovers a scant few inches above her own, the lights from the Christmas tree painting her skin in splotches of faint blue and red and green. One of Santana’s hands curls against the fabric of Brittany’s t-shirt, plucking and worrying the fabric between her fingers, her eyes caught on the peak of Brittany’s cheek but not actually meeting blue eyes.

“You’re nervous to kiss me,” Brittany realizes.

“I mean— Kinda?” Santana says sheepishly, “Not like nervous nervous but like— I mean we’ve literally been trying for forever and every time we do we get interrupted and now I’m worried that we’ll keep getting interrupted or it won’t be—”

And then—

Then Brittany slides her hand a little further up and guides Santana’s lips to her own, her rambling cut off by the gentle pressure of Brittany’s mouth moving slowly against hers. Santana’s lips part under Brittany’s and she lets out this breathy sigh into Brittany’s mouth and Brittany’s soul trembles with the weight of Santana’s lips against hers. Santana tastes faintly of chocolate, but something sweeter and deeper, and she tastes of summer nights on the west coast, bright and warm.

She tastes like home.

Santana’s fingers trail across her face as she presses closer, and Brittany feels both steady and like she’s about to float away, like everything over the past week, over the past mouth—probably over her entire life—has built towards this moment, like this is exactly what she was made to do. Santana’s lips move against hers with all the time in the world, like they’re stuck in a traffic jam with nowhere else to go, her lips soft and pliant against Brittany’s, eyelashes fluttering against the peak of her cheek, noses nudging together, and Brittany smiles into the kiss because this—

This is everything that Brittany’s been looking for her entire life.

She pulls back just far enough to press their foreheads together so she can try and breathe properly, but with Santana’s nose still nuzzling against hers that proves impossible. “Are you still nervous?” she whispers.

Santana doesn’t answer, she just uses the hand on Brittany’s jaw to guide their lips back together, and then they’re both smiling into the kiss, too wide for it to be anything more than all teeth and no finesse. Brittany lets her hand drift from the small of Santana’s back and start to wander her body under the blanket, the other playing with the baby fine hairs at the back of Santana’s neck.

Santana lets out a fluttery little sigh into Brittany’s mouth and Brittany can’t help but press up to kiss her harder again, and again, and again, and again—

///

When Brittany wakes up hours later in her bed, it’s to Santana drawing hearts on her bare stomach. Her fingers are light and soft against her skin and Brittany’s breath hitches; there’s no intent behind Santana’s touch, she doesn’t skate her fingers suggestively lower or higher, she just trails her fingers across Brittany’s skin with quiet marvel, and it jolts something in Brittany. No one’s ever touched her just for the sake of touching her and mapping her body before, just to connect the freckles and moles sprinkled across her torso into constellations, just to map each scar and imperfection that puckers her skin.

No one’s ever touched her just to learn every inch of her skin against their fingertips.

Santana realizes that Brittany is awake when the hand Brittany has curled over her waist starts lazily scratching at the soft skin there. She turns her head up towards Brittany and, even in the dim of the middle of the night, she can see the softness to Santana’s smile, the shadow of a dimple in her cheek, the love shining in her eyes, and something buzzing and warm tugs low in Brittany’s stomach as she falls in love with Santana all over again.

“Hi,” she whispers.

Santana’s smile widens a little. “Hi.”

“Merry Christmas,” Brittany says, reaching a hand up to tuck a strand of dark hair back behind Santana’s ear. She’s not sure exactly what time it is, but by the time they managed to untangle and stop kissing long enough to pull themselves up off the couch and stumble down the hall, the bright red time glowing on the television box thing had read 12:34.

Santana smiles and nuzzles into the hand that cups her jaw. “Merry Christmas,” she returns quietly.

Brittany leans up to press a soft, probing kiss to Santana’s lips, chaste and intimate all at once. “So did your wish come true?” she asks as she falls back to the pillow.

Santana nods and her smile loses its softness and takes on that playfully teasing look Brittany so adores. “Well, I wished that we would finally actually get to kiss without being interrupted, and, well,” she drags her hand down the bare skin of Brittany’s ribs to make her point and they both burst into laughter, Santana’s head dropping down to Brittany’s shoulder as they giggle. She presses a lingering kiss to the soft skin there and Brittany’s breath hitches as Santana props herself back up on her elbow, her other hand trailing circles on Brittany’s hip, and smiles softly at her. “What about you?” Santana whispers, “Did your wish come true?”

Brittany softens until she feels like she might melt right through her bed at the sweetness to Santana’s expression. She takes a moment to trace a heart on Santana’s hip before she smiles up at Santana. “Yeah, it did.”

Santana trails her hand up Brittany’s torso, skating her fingers against her breastbone and dipping into the hollow of her collarbone before she reaches Brittany’s face and cups her jaw, leaving a trail of buzzing heat in her wake. She leans down to press the softest of kisses to the corner of Brittany’s mouth and Brittany’s pretty sure her soul trembles at the contact. Santana draws back just barely enough to speak, her half-lidded eyes softening and the very tips of her lips brushing against Brittany’s chin as she speaks. “What was it?” she whispers.

Brittany just tilts her head up to press their lips together, both of them sighing at the contact.

“You,” she breathes, “Just you.”

#brittana #brittany pierce #santana lopez #glee #brittana fanfiction #glee fanfiction #my writing #story: be my fire in the cold (and I'll be waiting by the mistletoe) #it's christmas eve?????? #I'm literally in Shock that we're actually here???? #this is the chapter that everyone (mostly me lmao) has been Impatiently Waiting for #me @ me: you should try writing a sort of slow burn fic to challenge yourself #also me @ me: OR you could just have them KISS right NOW #in other words this is the closest to a slow burn I'll ever get lmao

[uzumaki-rebellion]

Black Boys Bloom Thorns First Volume 2, Chapter 12

Kinda over all the hard times I've been through

(Love brought me to you)

And I kinda feel loose

My heart I choose

My heart been broke down in the dirt and I finally see blue

Raised hands feel focused

And I'm done being broken

And I talked about love, real love

You the only thing that get me up

I'm high

Got me so far off that I could fly

Watch me fly…"

"High" - Ledisi

N'Jobu saw the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent slip into the back of the dance club around ten at night. He followed the white woman from a boarded-up strip mall building in East Oakland all the way across the bridge and into Korea Town. She must've felt very comfortable moving about because she was not careful about her surroundings nor did she try any evasive maneuvers to throw anyone off her trail. She dressed like a real estate agent and had the air of a woman accustomed to being anywhere she pleased.

Sandy brown hair cut in a short smart style, the woman eased past a crowded dance floor and took a seat at a small table next to a man sporting baggy jeans, a silk shirt, and dark glasses. N'Jobu bought a rum and coke and casually walked past them tossing a microbead under their table. He adjusted the earbud he wore and stood several feet away from them pretending to admire the dancing.

"Are you sure they have boots on the ground here? In the city?" The man asked. His voice was clear and distinct in N'Jobu's ear.

Light brown in complexion, possibly Southeast Asian, the man was also an agent.

"We have confirmation. But what they are really up to is anyone's guess. The point is they are here and we have to find out why," the woman said.

N'Jobu caught sight of something suspicious in his peripheral. A young Black woman with a short blonde 'fro was peeping the conversation near him. N'Jobu gulped down his rum and coke and maneuvered away from the agents.

"Shit!" the woman agent yelled as the Black woman pulled out a small pistol and aimed for her.

"Run!" the male agent yelled and they both took off toward a rear exit pushing past patrons who were unaware of the danger. The Black woman didn't pull the trigger and N'Jobu suspected it was a setup. He blended in behind the Black woman and followed her toward the exit, his own gun jammed in his front jacket pocket just in case. The two agents must've deactivated the exit alarm because no sounds rang out to alert the establishment that there was trouble.

The rear exit led to an alley and N'Jobu saw the Black woman chase after the two agents who made their getaway in a dark sedan parked conveniently in an illegal spot. She shot at them but missed doing any damage. He pretended to be taking a piss when the woman turned back and headed for the club exit again. Her gun was still in her hand and when she approached him, he acted surprised to see her.

"Damn, baby, who you mad at?" he asked her zipping up his pants and fake staggering like he was inebriated, bumping into her. Her eyes narrowed watching him, but he was convincing because she brushed past him saying, "Drunk ass."

The moment she went back through the exit door he checked his comm tab for her GPS signal. The tracking device he wiped onto her clothing with his hand came up clear for him. She was still inside the club.

Moving in stealth mode through the venue, N'Jobu was surprised no one noticed the slight commotion. The woman sauntered back over to the table where the agents sat and checked for anything they may have left behind. He moved away from her and out of the club entrance using an app on his phone to hail a ride. The GPS would stay active on the woman and he could trace where she laid her head once she left. His one regret was not placing active trackers on the agents to see where they went, but he wasn't expecting this turn of events. He could find the female S.H.I.E.L.D. agent again and try to follow her on some other night. The club location would now become dead space, never to be used again by the agents. At least he was able to capture some photos of all three people. He had upgraded facial recognition software in his kimoyo beads so hopefully, something would pop on the man and the other woman who interrupted the meeting.

N'Jobu was tired and wanted to finish his field reports and hit the sack in his apartment. He worked a split shift at the barbershop and had been on his feet all day and night. He had to meet Califia and Erik in church the next morning. Nana Jean was receiving an award from her church for over fifty years of faithful service. The Stevens family was expected to turn out en masse to help celebrate and he promised Califia he would meet them there at the church on time. His last four nights had been busy spying and tracking and his woman was missing him at home and so was his son.

A compact orange SUV rolled up that matched the picture on his app and when he reached for the back-passenger handle, he felt the hard barrel of a gun jammed into his back.

"Get in like normal. We're going for a ride player," the Black woman said.

N'Jobu didn't make any sudden moves, he hadn't expected her to do this, but he had to blame himself for not keeping up his drunk act all the way out of the building. She must've caught on to his ruse. His mind was on getting home and being with his family instead of the mission at hand. It wouldn't happen again. He climbed into the backseat and the woman eased in behind him closing the door. She kept her gun trained on his side.

"Fun date night?" The driver asked trying to be friendly.

"Awesome date night," the woman answered.

N'Jobu looked at her. The blonde hair made her dark skin look warm and inviting, but her eyes were cold sable pools of danger.

"I like this song, could you turn up your music?" the woman said.

"Sure," the driver said pressing a button on his steering wheel.

Music up, the woman leaned into N'Jobu letting her lips graze his ear.

"Who are you? Who do you work for?"

N'Jobu tried playing it off with his drunken club façade, but her eyes let him know it was best to stop.

"I'm just hanging out. What's good?" he said.

He was relaxed as they rode through the streets, the address given to the driver was a fake address to a safe house his people had set up that was away from his own home with Califia and his apartment. Her dark eyes studied him. "Intellis? Hydra? Deep S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

"Sorry, Ma, I don't know what you're talking about. I don't mind sharing this Lyft, but that piece in my side ain't cool."

"You followed me out of the exit. You were tracking those agents too."

"Like I said—"

She lifted the gun to his head. The driver was oblivious, too busy enjoying his own music and moving through traffic. N'Jobu held still. He could easily overtake her, but he wanted to see what more she would reveal.

She gave a deep sigh and glanced at the driver. When her eyes left his, he swiped her gun from her hand and stuck it hard into her ribcage. He leaned into her tight making it look like he was cuddling with her.

"My turn. Why are you accosting me when I'm just trying to have a good time on a Saturday night?"

She seemed upset that he turned the tables on her, probably believing he was actually a random dude she had pegged wrong. The car came to a red light and the woman reached up fast and scratched the hell out of N'Jobu's face before bolting out of the backseat and onto the street.

"Hey! What is she doing?" The driver yelled staring at the woman running into the night.

N'Jobu pocketed her gun and closed the back passenger door. He felt blood welling up from the deep scratches she left on his face with her nails.

"Lovers spat. She's mad at me for talking to some other woman back at the club."

The driver glared at N'Jobu as if he were nervous about having him in the back of the car. Holding the side of his face, N'Jobu released the biggest smile.

"We go through this every time we go out. She thinks I'm flirting and I'm just asking this chick what drink she had in her hand. Go figure. Aye, you can let me off over there. I'm going to walk off this buzz. My apartment is nearby."

The driver pulled over once they made it through the green light.

"Thanks," N'Jobu called out as he left the car. The driver took off and N'Jobu checked the GPS tracker. The woman was close by, inside an apartment on the next block. He picked up his pace and walked to the apartment. Waiting on the corner as if he were waiting for a late-night bus, he kept his eyes on her domain. She appeared to be in for the night. He recorded the address and hoped she had some good prints on her gun. He would figure out who she was later.

He jogged a few blocks down and called for another ride. This time to his real home. No one was tailing him.

The scratches on his face began to throb with a dull pain. He had church in the morning and would have to explain the marks on his face. He had some medicinal cream from home in his apartment that would help speed up healing, but he would still have signs of injury in the morning.

His new ride appeared and he jumped in. His body ached. He was tempted to go to the townhouse and slip into bed with Califia. But he had work to complete. He couldn't wait to see his family at church.

Califia checked her watch. He was late. But only by a few minutes.

Holding Erik in her lap she glanced toward the back of the church to see if N'Jobu had slipped in and was waiting in a back pew. Nana Jean was up front with Califia's father and Uncle and the rest of the family sat behind them. Several cousins flew out from Atlanta to witness the event and a few from Richmond came through too. They were representing Nana well.

Califia heard some tittering behind her and when she looked back, N'Jobu was sauntering in wearing a gorgeous eggplant-colored suit with a matching tie and expensive shoes. He looked like he was wearing something from his Prince couture closet. Her man looked clean from top to bottom except for that large bandage on his left cheek. They made eye contact and she watched him head for her and Erik as some in the congregation watched him. They didn't come to church often, but when they did, N'Jobu was always a head turner. He squeezed into the pew next to her and Erik was already crawling onto his lap. N'Jobu leaned over and kissed Califia's cheek. Erik puckered up his lips and N'Jobu kissed his son back. Califia had put thin cornrows in Erik's hair while she wore her own hair out in a bushy 'fro. She was letting it grow out. Erik's hair was already touching his shoulders and there was talk between them of cutting it for pre-school soon.

Pre-school.

Time was marching. Erik was three and ready to go into a classroom with other students. She watched N'Jobu admire the maroon suit jacket and bow tie that she had put on Erik. His son looked dapper. Even his toddler shoes looked fancy and the color matched his tie. Like father, like son.

"What happened to your face?" Califia whispered to him.

N'Jobu looked at her and she got lost in his eyes. She hadn't seen him for any real length of time for four days and she missed him. Worried about him too. He let his thigh rest against hers as he reached down and held her hand.

"On the job snafu."

"The shop or….?"

"Not the shop."

She asked no further questions.

"It's nothing serious. I promise, just a scratch," he said.

His eyes roamed over her outfit.

"You look lovely," he said.

She bought a new purple blouse and skirt set along with some cute heels appropriate for church. Her grandmother had puckered her lips when she saw how tight the skirt was, but she couldn't say much when some of the other women in the church were wearing dresses that could be worn at a club.

Califia saw Nana Jean turn around and wave her hand for her great-grandson to be brought to her. Califia picked up Erik and moved away from the pew and headed to the front of the congregation. She heard a few people say "Aw, how cute," when she walked past them with Erik. He really was cute and she felt proud that her son was acting so well in church. When Erik saw Nana he automatically reached out for her and the older woman took him onto her lap. Califia returned to her seat and N'Jobu leaned into her ear, "I think the deacon on the right was checking out your ass. That skirt is tight as hell, girl."

"I didn't think it was all that tight when I got it."

"Trust me. That thang is poked out. Did Nana say anything?"

"She looked me over a bit."

"I'm sure she did," he said beginning to giggle. Califia hit his knee.

The pastor of the church stood reading off Nana's history with the church, shared a few anecdotes, and then called Nana forward. The entire church stood giving her a standing ovation and they all watched her walk up to the podium with Erik in her arms. Erik appeared enamored with the crowd looking at him and he held onto his great-grandmother's neck with one arm.

"This is my great-grandson, Erik. Don't he look nice?" Nana said bragging on him.

Califia found herself beaming as she held N'Jobu's hand. They listened to Nana as she thanked her church home and Pastor, and Califia saw N'Jobu really get into what her grandmother was saying about community and commitment to uplift. When she was finished speaking, a young woman stood next to her with a large gold plaque in her hand. N'Jobu strolled up to get Erik so Nana could hold her plaque. He stayed on the stage next to Nana and Califia's Aunt Doxie leaned over from the front pew and said, "Girl, you can tell Erik is his baby. Looks just like him. Chile, your son is going to be fine when he grows up. Y'all in trouble."

Califia laughed, but staring at them both on stage, she realized Aunt Doxie was right. Erik's cuteness was just the first stage of taking after his father. She could only imagine if he took on any of N'Jobu's traits when he grew older. How many young girls would be crying over him? Boys too. Vying for his attention? Calling the house at all hours trying to catch him? She was dreading the birds and the bees talk because already at the age of three, Erik was a big flirt. He was already tapping into his skills as a charmer. One well-placed dimple when he smiled had people fawning over him already. And he recognized that power to manipulate.

Nana walked back to her seat in the front pew and N'Jobu walked back to his seat with Erik. There would be a potluck dinner in the church dining hall and everyone was planning to stay for it. Califia was itching to go home with N'Jobu. She wanted to feed Erik, change him and put him to bed then crawl onto the couch with her man and fool around. And then talk about going back to work.

She already accepted a job offer for the fall when Erik would start school. Their son would go to pre-school for a half day and Dante would pick him up and watch him until she came home from work. The new school that hired her was a twenty-minute drive from their house, a middle school that had a great reputation and a gifted and talented education program that was filled with children of color. It was a school she would want Erik to attend once he came of age. She was excited about it and wanted to tell N'Jobu all the details. She knew he wanted her to stay home longer, but she felt it would be easier to get through his misgivings if she already had a job in place.

At the potluck, Califia introduced N'Jobu to many people who were curious about her and him. She wasn't deep into the church so each time congregants saw her, they wanted to catch up, and now that she had a son by a man they didn't know, their curiosity was strong. Erik sat and ate with Nana and he was getting his flirt on with a few grade school girls who kept playing with him and fussing over his bow tie and shoes. She spied him purposely untying his shoes so some little girl would come over and tie them for him. Then he would smile real big for her just so she would play with his hair or ask to carry him around again.

When two girls walked around with Erik holding his hand and they came her way, Califia bent down and told him, "Stop untying your shoelaces." He just smiled. N'Jobu only sat back and grinned.

"Don't encourage him," she said.

"He is his own person."

"With your D.N.A."

N'Jobu shrugged and they both watched Erik work the room.

"When are you two going to have more like him?"

Califia was startled to see the Pastor's granddaughter standing so close to their seats.

"Cali, right?" The woman said. Her eyes flitted past Califia and landed on N'Jobu's.

"Yeah," Califia said crossing her leg so that it rubbed up against N'Jobu's leg.

"Your grandmother is always talking about you and the work you do at Alpha House. The dance classes and martial arts…you always sound so busy. Hello there, I'm Kandice, you are…?"

Kandice held out a well-manicured hand toward N'Jobu. He shook her hand and threw his arm around the back of Califia's chair.

"Thinking about more kids?" she asked again.

Califia hated when people did that. Especially people she didn't know well.

"Erik is a handful right now, so not any time soon," she answered. She noticed N'Jobu's expression. He seemed disappointed with her answer.

"Well that little guy is adorable and you make pretty babies together. You should give him a sibling."

Califia wanted to tell Kandice to mind her own damn business but she felt N'Jobu stroke her back gently to calm her. He could already tell she was ready to tell ole girl off.

Kandice went on her way and N'Jobu moved closer to her.

"Erik is not really a handful, Califia."

"I know, I just wanted to make her go away."

"It would be nice for him to have a sibling."

Califia stared at him.

"Just not now," she said.

His eyes blinked and then she knew. He wanted more babies sooner. Not later.

"I took a job, N'Jobu. I will be teaching in the fall at a middle school. I'm going back to work."

He let her words sink in.

"I was going to tell you about it tonight. I wanted to tell you sooner, but you've been gone and…"

"I want us to have another baby, Califia. I want more children with you. I don't want to wait. It would be good to have our kids close in age. I don't want Erik to be alone-"

"N'Jobu—"

"That's how I feel."

Califia glanced around the church dining hall. No one was listening to them and Erik was busy being the center of attention with Nana.

"Let's talk about this later," she said. N'Jobu nodded his head.

She had hoped he would want to wait a few more years before they tried again. But he wanted more than just one sibling for Erik.

She raised her hand up to his face where the bandage was.

"Let me see it," she said.

He lifted up the tape and pulled back the bandage. Four scratches. The type of marks a woman might make. She put the bandage back in its place. Glancing around the room she made eye contact with her grandmother.

"I'll be right back," she said leaving her seat.

The room was full of chatter and laughter and church folk catching up with all the good gossip. Califia made her way to Nana.

"Hey, Nana," Califia said.

"He looks to be winding down. You all can go on home if you want. I'm leaving in a few minutes with your father and Doxie."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Thank you for coming and bringing my sweet great-grandbaby. He is so good around people. Didn't fuss or anything,"

Califia picked Erik up.

"You ready to go home, JaJa?"

He nodded.

"Say bye-bye to Nana."

Erik leaned over and hugged Nana.

"Give your Nana a kiss so you can go with your Momma."

Erik kissed Nana and waved at everyone as she walked to her father and gave Dante a hug. N'Jobu was up with his car keys in his hand. Califia and Erik had caught a ride with a cousin to the church. They would ride home with him.

The moment they were in the car and Erik was safely strapped in the backseat, Califia asked what she was dying to know.

"A woman made that mark on your face. Right?"

"Yes," N'Jobu said heading away from the church.

"I thought you just spied on people. You're interacting with them now? Who is she?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know—"

"I was watching some other people and then she pulled a gun on me."

Califia stared at his face. He was calm driving. He hardly told her anything about what he did and she never really asked. But those scratches…that was something intimate. Face to face.

"A gun was pulled on you? Jesus Christ. N'Jobu—"

"I took it from her. Nothing serious—"

"Nothing serious? I'm thinking you are just out there…damn…you're running around with guns too…and you want me to have more babies when I have to worry about you getting hurt or killed now?"

He kept silent.

"I don't like this." "It's what I do, Califia."

"I still don't like it."

The silence in the car was loud to her ears. Her stomach was upset and she was tense in her shoulders. All she wanted to do was be home alone with her man and child and close out the world. But here they were.

Erik was fast asleep when they arrived home. N'Jobu carried him inside and took him to bed, changing his clothes and telling him a story to help him ease back into dreamland. She took a shower and changed into a long nightgown. N'Jobu was still in Erik's room when she went downstairs to watch TV.

Forty minutes later he walked down and joined her on the couch. He didn't speak and she didn't really want to talk about baby making or even her career. Her thoughts were on the woman who pulled a gun on him. He had taken the bandage off and rubbed some fresh medicinal cream on his wound.

They sat next to each other rather stiff and awkward.

"I hate worrying about you," she said still not looking at him.

"I don't want to cause you to worry. This was just an isolated incident. I want to keep this work away from you and Erik."

"Hard to do when people are putting hands on you."

She finally turned to look at him. She touched his face. What bitch marred his beautiful skin?

"Tell me who did this and I will whoop her ass."

N'Jobu smiled and held her hand. He kissed the inside of her palm gently and pulled her in close. She rested her head on his chest. He made her feel calm at that moment.

"I want to have more children with you. I do. But I would like to work for a bit and focus all my energy on Erik. He has cousins and we have friends with children so he won't feel alone. Just let me have a few years of teaching and my other work."

He stroked her arm and then kissed her forehead.

"If that is what you want, then I will support you."

She felt his body tremble a bit and she held onto his arm tight.

"We will have that tribe you want, babe. When you take us all to your home one day, we will make your family proud. Okay?"

"Okay," he said with the softest voice she had heard from him in a long time. He was hurting. She felt it.

They were both mentally drained but held each other for some time on the couch, the TV blaring a series of awful TV shows. Califia laid her head on his lap and he rested against the couch rubbing her back.

"Please tell me you're not mad at me," she whispered when he flipped the channel. The quiet between them was bothering her.

"I'm not mad. Just a little sad. I told you I would support you. I will."

She hated disappointing people she loved. The sadness in his voice made her feel sad for him. Life was going well for them. They were truly blessed to have one another and Erik. They were blessed to have a home they could afford, and extra resources to do nice things together as a family. Most people around them struggled, but they were lucky to live the life they did.

She finally felt confident in raising Erik the way she thought he should be raised with the help of N'Jobu. Not having her own mother around and not having a great relationship with her for so many years made Califia concerned that she would not have the type of experience necessary to bring her son up in the positive loving environment she wanted for him. She herself had been raised by parents who loved one another despite their interpersonal flaws and fights, but once her father was gone, she didn't receive the mothering she needed to thrive. She often felt she had to mother herself while her own mother found herself again. And once Melissa re-married, her focus was on her new husband and her new babies. Love seemed conditional there. As long as Califia was good and didn't cause problems Melissa was a competent parent. However, Califia was a young girl grappling with trauma, and Melissa was ill-equipped to handle that and two new young babies. She preferred to ignore it. Califia felt like an outsider in that home. She always felt like she had to figure out life without any help from her mother.

Even when Bakari's parents fostered her until high school and gave her love and security, she still felt a displacement, a sense of being a fringe dweller horning in on someone else's family. She had nothing of her own. Living with Nana from high school until parts of college saw her sharing space with a revolving door of cousins, aunts, and uncles who sought respite when life got rough or they were going through a transition: homelessness, unemployment, divorce, domestic abuse, drug rehabilitation. Nana provided a stable home but it was often chaotic with family drama.

Living with N'Jobu and having Erik gave her peace. They gave her security. Real stability. Love unconditional. She finally had what she needed. She didn't want to offset the balance she had now. But N'Jobu was feeling slighted. No, not slighted. Incomplete? Missing something…

"Are you worried that Erik being half Wakandan and living here will cause him problems if he is alone?"

She felt N'Jobu's hand stop in mid stroke on her back. She sat up to look at him.

"You don't want him to be an outsider," she said.

"I do worry about that," he said.

She touched his hand.

"He is also Black American, and he is being raised here. He will not feel like an outsider with my people. He is always surrounded by love. And he has us."

N'Jobu seemed to relax because of her words.

Once they found their way to bed for the night, N'Jobu held her tight, making her lie on top of him while his arms surrounded her. The tension that hovered over them earlier in the night had dissipated. She thought they would make love, anticipated it once the friction between them passed. But he just held her until she fell asleep.

The Saturday before Erik was to start pre-school was a rite of passage for him.

His first haircut.

Dante and Nana Jean came to the shop with Califia's cousin Junie and Michelle, as well as her Aunt Kendra and Kendra's grandchildren ages four and five. Erik was excited by all the attention and when the family swept into N'Jobu's shop, it became a festive atmosphere.

All was well until Erik was sitting in the booster seat on N'Jobu's shop chair. Both Erik and Califia rocked 'fros, but once N'Jobu's clippers started buzzing and he made the first pass on Erik's hair, his son began to cry.

At first, they thought it was the sound of the clippers scaring him, but when N'Jobu turned them off and stared at his son's face, he guessed it had to be something else.

"Why are you crying, JaJa?" he asked.

Erik's wet eyes looked tortured and his hand went to his lip. Califia rubbed his back trying to calm him.

"I want my hair to be like Mommy's!" he wailed.

All the adults cackled and Califia's face gave their son a sympathetic look.

"You'll look so handsome with a nice haircut from Baba," she encouraged, "you'll look like him."

Erik shook his head and his tears sprung harder.

Dante and Junie laughed at N'Jobu.

"JaJa, I already started to cut your hair, it won't look like Mommy's—"

"Erik, don't be that way," Califia said touching his cheek.

Califia's eyes were full of mirth as she stared at N'Jobu. There was no going back on the clippers now.

"Mommy is getting a haircut too!" Califia said. N'Jobu stared at her. Her thick head of hair was returning to its old sunburst length finally. Would she really cut it off so soon?

"Let Baba finish cutting your hair and then it will be my turn. Mommy has to get a new haircut for school too."

Califia gave N'Jobu a look to finish his work on their son. Erik had stopped crying and was staring at his mother in earnest.

"You'll still look like Mommy, okay?"

Erik nodded and allowed her to wipe his tears away with her fingers.

N'Jobu turned his clippers back on and Junie captured the haircut with his cell phone along with Califia and Dante using theirs.

Once he got his son's hair trimmed and tapered down to the proper length he and Califia agreed on, he etched in lines on the side to give his boy some style with a different set of clippers.

"Watch out now," Nana Jean said admiring the quality of N'Jobu's handiwork. Erik's young cousin's Macy and Dean watched, both ready to leave the shop because they were all promised a trip to get ice cream from a local spot once Erik's hair was done.

N'Jobu brushed the back of his son's neck and his shoulders before releasing him. They gave Erik a mirror to admire himself and he broke out in the biggest dimpled grin.

"Your turn, Mommy!" he said as N'Jobu helped him down from the booster seat. N'Jobu handed the booster seat to the new shop assistant and Califia took Erik's place.

"Go ahead and take the kids to get lunch and ice cream. I'll catch up with you when he's done," Califia said.

Dante picked up Erik so he could see his mother get the first cut.

N'Jobu touched Califia's hair, his fingers caressing the soft fullness.

"You sure you want to do this?"

"My baby wants to look like me. I can't deny that little face anything," she said.

N'Jobu fired up his clippers with fresh clean blades.

"Here we go," he said and took out one smooth swipe of her luxurious hair.

When N'Jobu glanced at his son, he saw Erik clap his hands. He took another strip of hair out and Califia waved her hand at the family.

"Go get the kids ice cream. Macy and Dean look bored watching this," Califia said.

"Bye, Mommy! Bye, Baba!" Erik said waving.

"You be good for Grandpa and Nana," Califia called after them as the family left the shop.

He and Califia waved at Erik, and then N'Jobu continued with her hair.

He ran his fingers on the new smooth section of her scalp. Something about touching her there made him feel excited. He didn't put a drape around her so the clipped strands of her hair fell on her bare shoulders. He brushed away her shorn locks as he worked. She wore a yellow halter dress and the ginger hairs that fell across her reddish skin stirred a sensual visual for him. When she tilted her head to the side for him, his eyes glanced down at her round soft shoulders and the curve of her breasts. He trailed his fingers on her shoulders and she gave him a look like something was kindled within her too. He felt himself breathing a little harder and focused on finishing her hair.

He caught some male customers watching them…her in particular like they sensed something rising between them. When he glanced over at Nate, his boss had his eyes right on Califia. N'Jobu knew the man had a thing for her. Nate was respectful and even a little doting on Califia and Erik. He was a married man with a few side chicks that popped up in the shop from time to time. He also had a foul mouth, but whenever Califia was around, he turned into a saint with just a hint of lust in his eyes when he thought N'Jobu wasn't looking.

N'Jobu would normally pitch a quiet fit if a dude was checking for Califia a little too hard, but Nate was an exception. Probably because he allowed N'Jobu to do what he wanted whenever he wanted, especially when it came to taking time off at a moment's notice. A little reckless eyeballing on his woman was a small price to pay in order for N'Jobu to spy and keep his freedom of movement.

Turning his attention back on Califia, he could smell the shampoo she had used on her hair that morning, satsuma orange. The lotion she rubbed into her skin wafted up, strawberry scented and complimenting the orange aroma falling away from her. He stepped in front of her and tilted her head up so that she was looking at him. He bent down and kissed her, not caring if anyone watched them. He slipped her a bit of tongue, then pulled up allowing a finger to dip down and rub across the top of her dress so that he touched a nipple that hardened under the cotton material. Califia's eyes began to smolder and he moved around her so that he could continue cutting.

The barber Ivan now had his eyes on them, and he must've caught the slip of N'Jobu's finger on Califia's nipple because N'Jobu saw the man adjust his manhood, his eyes staring at Califia's chest. Even Tamla the manicurist was watching them, her face starting to look flustered by what N'Jobu was doing. A simple haircut had become something more.

Once he had her scalp smooth and faded just right, he lined her up and gave her a similar look like their son. She looked gorgeous. Short hair was her signature look he felt. Her eyes popped, her lips and cheeks popped, she just looked amazing without hair. He wiped the rest of the loose strands from her shoulders and neck with his hands. The contact with her skin had him hungry for her. He could see her nipples so ready for him. They all could.

"Hooked that shit up, JoJo," Nate said still watching from across the room.

"I have to use the restroom," Califia said getting out of the chair. She handed N'Jobu money for their haircuts and moved to the back of the shop to go use the employee restroom. N'Jobu handed the shop cashier the money.

"Erik's on us," Nate said as he worked on a young man with a thinning hairline.

"Thanks," N'Jobu said.

He followed Califia into the back of the shop. No one else was back there, but he heard water running in the restroom. He opened the door.

Califia had a paper towel folded in half and was letting water splash onto it. She wiped the back of her neck with it.

"You got me a little hot and bothered out there," she said smiling at him. He didn't smile back. He closed the door behind him and ran his hands across her back and neck and rubbed her in spots that had her closing her eyes.

"That feels good," she said.

He placed his lips on her left shoulder and allowed his mouth to move down her back and across to her other shoulder. His fingers trailed up her neck and stroked her scalp for a bit, his eyes staring at her in the restroom mirror.

"You are so beautiful," he said.

Before she could respond, he turned her around and his hands cradled her face. He kissed her, light touches at first, and then his teeth were pulling on her bottom lip. She opened her mouth and let his tongue in. He lifted her up and sat her on the edge of the sink, his mouth never leaving hers.

It seemed like it had been a long time since they had kissed like this, and he could not get enough of her. He ran his hands across her smooth scalp once more, his lips nibbling at her earlobes, and he could hear the satisfied sighs coming from her.

"Babe, you're at work—"

He pulled down the top of her halter dress exposing her breasts.

"N'Jobu," she gasped pulling her dress top back up and trying her best to place her breasts into the built-in bra cups. He unzipped his pants and pulled his cock out through the slit in his boxers and stroked himself. He hadn't touched her intimately since before Nana Jean's award. Work, taking care of Erik and Califia, and his nighttime spying kept him busy. He had been unable to relax enough to touch her for weeks. Cutting her hair made him desire her on the spot, even though it was his workplace. He didn't care. He was going to have her.

He pulled down her dress again and squeezed both breasts with his hands. Califia sighed and let him do what he wanted. He let his right hand drop back down and stroke his erection while he played with her nipple. Pre-cum oozed out onto the floor.

"Baby," Califia said as she watched the puddle of his own making pool on the floor. She let a finger drop and play with his slit, her digit coated with his wetness. She put her fingers in her mouth and sucked off his pre-cum.

"You taste so good," she said.

He continued working his dick and staring at her chest. He bent his head and latched onto her right nipple. She held the back of his neck with one hand.

He licked and sucked on her other nipple then raised up stroking himself harder.

"Yo, JoJo, your next customer is here," Nate called out from the office. N'Jobu slowed down his hand. Califia held a hand to her mouth to keep herself from laughing.

"You hear me?"

"Yeah, Nate. Give me a minute," N'Jobu answered.

"Take two," Nate said.

N'Jobu smirked. Califia tried pulling her dress back up again.

"Don't," he said, his eyes still glued to her large areolas. He resumed stroking himself.

"Your boss is outside that door," she said.

"I don't care. I have two minutes."

Califia fixed her dress.

"Come home tonight and I will let you have whatever you want," she said.

He sought out her lips again and when she let him taste her tongue once more, he forced her right hand onto his cock.

"Play with my dick," he whispered in her ear.

"Nate can hear us—"

"Come on, girl…"

She did what he asked and he was so primed for her touch that he began rutting in her hand freely, grunting as she rolled her fingers around the head of his cock.

They could both hear Nate moving around in his office, going through his desk and typing on his office laptop.

"For real, N'Jobu, we should stop."

"Stroke my shit."

"You can't cum on my dress."

"I'm going to cum on your tits."

He reached over and pulled the toilet seat lid down. Luckily for Califia, Tamla liked having a plush pink toilet seat cover in their work restroom. N'Jobu pulled Califia from off of the sink and had her sit on the toilet lid. He yanked her dress top back down and released his entire dick and balls from his pants, sandwiching himself between her breasts.

"I can't believe you right now," she said holding her tits together for him.

"Just look at me," he said thrusting inside the soft round orbs she offered up to him. Her pseudo-innocent eyes had him slipping into a need for release. He gripped his dick and pulled out from her breasts.

"Push those tits together…shit…," he said.

She mashed her breasts together and opened her mouth letting her tongue roll out teasing him. He changed his mind about her breasts.

"Fuck girl…take this fat nut."

His release coated her tongue and she had to wrap her lips around him and swallow everything fast to keep it from dripping onto her dress. He tried to keep his voice low but his groans got away from him. Nate definitely got an earful.

When she finished licking her lips and fixing her clothes, Califia stood up and poked him in his chest.

"How am I supposed to go out there now? Is he still in the office?"

"Probably."

He saw her cheeks color.

"Don't worry about it. He won't trip. I've heard him in here plenty of times myself. He can't say shit."

"Him and Pamela be in here?"

He gave her a sly look.

"Ooh…" she said.

He shrugged.

"He cheats on her in the restroom?"

He shrugged again.

"And you had to do this with me in here?"

"Stop being sexy to me then," he said.

"Y'all nasty."

She still wouldn't leave the space.

"I'll go out first then you can leave when you're ready."

"Keep him talking or something…ugh…I can't even look him in the eye now."

N'Jobu chuckled.

"I promise, he won't say anything."

Fixing his pants and making sure there were no stains on the floor or on his clothes, N'Jobu washed his hands.

"Wish me luck," he teased and opened the restroom door.

Nate was obviously pretending to be fixated on his computer when N'Jobu stepped out.

"Everything good?" Nate drawled out and N'Jobu grinned.

"Of course—"

Califia breezed past them both, not even looking in Nate's direction.

"I better see about my customer," N'Jobu said, his stride relaxed as he left the office.

Califia put Erik to bed at a decent hour. He was exhausted from being with his cousins and running around the local park with his cousins after having lunch and ice cream and then pizza rolls later for dinner at Nana's. He was thrilled to see her hair when she caught up with them at that ice cream parlor.

Lying in bed herself, she waited for N'Jobu to come home. He said he would be home after nine. It was already ten. He left a text saying he wouldn't be long at nine-fifteen.

At ten-thirty she got up and started pacing in the living room, the sexy red nightie she had on for him now covered by an old bathrobe. She texted him but there was no response.

His intuition told him to go snoop back around the apartment where the Black blonde lived from the club fiasco. The GPS he swiped on her jacket still worked so he knew she was inside her apartment building.

Her fingerprints and faceprint came up clean. No records. No telltale signs that she belonged to any organization criminal or otherwise. What was her connection to the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents she was tailing along with him?

He watched her building from his car. His GPS showed she was on the move. Thank goodness she was wearing the same jacket from the club.

He wore glasses with binocular enhancements and kept his focus on the entrance of the apartment building. She was about to walk outside.

"Interesting," he muttered to himself as he watched the Black blonde exit onto the street with another woman who looked exactly like her. Except she had a short platinum 'fro instead of a blonde one. Identical twins.

He scanned their bodies from his car with the glasses and he knew they were packing serious heat under their clothes. Two weapons each.

He checked his cell. Shit. He never responded to Califia's text. She was probably sitting at home pissed.

The twins were walking away from the apartment. He had to make a decision. Let the GPS track the women and hope the blonde twin kept wearing the jacket all night, or go home to appease an angry wife. The GPS would only show where they were going, but not the details that a more elaborate tracking/visual-audio recording system would give him. He would have to get close to one of them to place an upgrade on them but also taking a chance of being caught, or he could tail them, get photos and figure out the proper time to try and get into their apartment to set up surveillance on them.

His cell vibrated.

"I'm sorry, I'm running behind," he mumbled still watching the twins move around the corner.

"You're not coming," she said. He couldn't tell by her tone if she was mad or merely disappointed again.

"I'll be there, but it'll be about another hour."

She hung up on him.

"Shit."

She was mad.

It was after one in the morning when he snuck into their bedroom.

He tried his best to keep quiet so that he could slip in between their sheets and pretend that he had gotten there earlier while she slept. He sidled up next to Califia and felt the silky material of her nightie. Damn. The red one. He missed out on some good loving.

Fuck.

Chapter 13 HERE.

#njobu #n'jobu #blackpanther #black panther #erikkillmonger #erik killmonger #babyerik

[ryewi]

When I’m with you I’m in Utopia [Chapter 7]

Summary:   9 years ago, the world split in two halves, Utopia and Dystopia. One of the laws allows citizens of both worlds to visit the other once in their lifetime, for a whole week, after which, they’re forced to return home. If by any chance, they don’t return, a death punishment is sentenced. Jeon Jungkook, a citizen of Dystopia seemed to be desperate enough to challenge that exact law.

Genre: Utopia!au, Dystopia!au, fluff, angst, drama, to be added~~

Words:1,6k

Warnings: none!

< Previous | Part Seven | Next >

Jeon Jungkook. It was his headshot.

“Can I please review the picture closer? My eyesight is pretty bad without glasses” Faith lied, buying herself enough time to think about how to get out of the situation. She extended her right hand, clutching tightly onto a grey doorknob with the left one. Hoping that these men won’t notice her slightly shaking, Faith brought the picture obnoxiously close to her face and pretended to scan the face of a boy she knew oh-too-well.

“Do you maybe have a name of this person?” She asked, squinting back at men in front, really trying to act out being half blind.

“Jeon Jungkook” Faith visibly cringed at the mention of his name. She couldn’t believe it. How long have they been searching for him? Has the chase started today or has Jungkook been running for a couple of days? So many questions flew through her mind and she sighed, finally giving back the headshot and shaking her head no.

“I’m sorry, I have no info to give out” Shrugging with her shoulders, Faith looked back at the open bathroom door and a shocked Jungkook staring right back. His eyes were glassy and he continuously shook his head as to say “please don’t give me out”.  

“Really? Are you sure?” They pressed harder and that’s when Faith began to panic. They knew something.  

“I am one hundred percent positive that I’ve never seen this man in my life and that you were the first ones to introduce me to him” She pushes on, ready to close the door any second, but while she wasn’t backing down, neither were they. It was unknown to her what they knew, or how they got their information, but she was ready to fight as long as their arguments weren’t stronger than her lies.

“We have a source that told us you’ve spent time and invited this man to this exact place, so miss, it would be better if you cooperate, you know the law”

Oh, the law. A piece of text that prohibited citizens from staying more than a week out of their world. A piece of text that made murder legal. Faith has only read about people being killed for breaking this exact law on the internet. It only applied to the other side, she never paid much attention to that, but it was never a fair decision in her head. Weren’t laws supposed to calm down the riots, prevent people from hurting each other and make the world a better place? Why would you kill an innocent being for wanting a to be free?  

Then she remembered the second part of the text, as cruel as the other one.  

“Anyone who helped the guilty, whether it was sheltering them in home of one’s own, or defending them in any kind of accusation related to their escape, will be treated as previously stated.”

“I really have no idea what you’re talking about, that source isn’t reliable and without any proof you can’t claim that I’ve done something. Why would I put my own life on the edge for someone I don't know?” Faith snorted in disbelief, provided acting seemed to be very convincing. She made a mental note to later pat herself of the shoulder for being such a natural talent.  

Jungkook’s life was already on a thin line, but the moment she denied any more allegations, closed the door and slid down them, she knew that line now held two lives instead of one.  

Faith looked in the direction of Jungkook, the boy now making his way over to her, steps hurried and mouth still hanging in disbelief. In that moment, Faith felt emotionless, even when her figure was captured in a cage of Jungkook’s strong arms, even when she was brought to his lap and talked to. The words entered through one and left through another ear, it was all a blur, her mind climbing Mount Everest, but at the same time laying relaxed on water’s surface.

When it all really hit her, Faith pushed him away, standing up and running back towards the bathroom. Is she really this stupid? Cold water on hot skin felt refreshing, making tingles spread throughout her whole body. Has she really put herself in this much danger for a stranger? But Jungkook isn’t a stranger, yet was he worth all of this? Should she just turn him in, plead for innocence and secure herself? You’re a fool, you can't plead now.  

No, Jungkook wasn’t a stranger, he was just a lost boy. Her lost boy. It was peculiar, how should she carry this one? All the thoughts of Jungkook’s perfect smile, his precious curiosity and honey like voice. The way his singing and arms around her waist made her feel safe. How they looked and behaved next to each other. Was it possible for all of this to happen in just a span of a week? Were the feelings going to pass when fear and danger overtakes their body?

Jungkook tried to enter numerous times, knocking politely and waiting for a reply, which he never got. He respected that Faith needed her privacy, especially in this crucial moment. Why has she done that? Was he really this selfish?  

Why would anyone feel affirmation towards a boy like Jungkook, a scumbag that pulled people into the hole he was in. Was it necessary to make someone risk their own life for his own sake? He was going to die anyway, but now she was going to be executed too.

Standing up, Jungkook made his way towards Faith's balcony, watching the beautiful view from 10th floor. The night was clear, chilly and windy, it was perfect. He could see cars moving on the highway far away, their headlights together appearing as one dot of light travelling on an invisible path. Voices of passerby in the main street below, barely made it in a shape of whispers to his ears, then disappeared as quick.  

Jungkook played the instrumental of a song he really liked, Only Then, losing himself quick in calm and inviting notes. Before he knew it, Jungkook began singing, his voice slowly carried through the atmosphere.

It was no surprise that Faith managed to hear a small part through a partially opened window. It was no surprise that Jungkook’s singing managed to make her feel safe once again. A warm feeling travelled through her body, glassy eyes slowly turning back to normal.

Reluctantly, Faith opened the door, a loud squeak echoing through the hallway as a consequence of her actions. Scared that Jungkook will stop singing if she made any more noise, Faith stopped dead in tracks, but fortunately, he seemed to continue performing, evidently unbothered.

Tip-toeing through the dark living room, Faith stood by the balcony door, watching Jungkook with devotion. He was breathtaking, she thought, he is the one.  

Then again, was he? Was he really someone she wanted to wake up to? How do you develop feelings for someone like Jungkook? Faith couldn’t stop doubting all of her thoughts, especially being who she is. It wasn't easy for her to develop strong feelings, it was all push and pull, until Jungkook appeared.

She continued listening this beautiful song, high notes sending shivers down her spine. Faith could imagine Jungkook protectively, but tenderly, holding her in his arms, singing quietly as they both enjoyed the sunset. She could imagine waking up to a pair of sincere eyes already looking back.  

Faith was so lost, well enough to not notice the song finishing and him turning towards her, smiling. Just when Jungkook stood up, now eye level with the other, she shook off her daze.

“Get inside, it’s getting cold” Faith mumbled, turning on her heel and walking towards the kitchen, suddenly craving some blueberry juice. She didn’t notice Jungkook following until his taller frame towered over hers, reaching for a glass on the top shelf.  

Setting it aside in the same time as Faith, he cleaned his throat, silently (or not so) asking for her attention. Responding and turning around, Faith tried to stay emotionless standing just a few inches away from the other. Jungkook’s breath fanned over nose, tickling, after which she tried to stifle a giggle.  

“I can’t thank you enough” He began, locking eyes and suddenly sounding much softer. Laughing to himself, Jungkook carefully picked up a small hand in his, caressing it with his thumb.  

“I don’t know why you did that” Continuing, his voice started breaking. Jungkook wasn’t close to crying this time, it was only that the timeline of events still seemed unreal. “I don’t know what I did to deserve this, I only know that I’m a selfish prick that somehow felt like it was a good idea to bring someone else in too and I-”

Suddenly, like a gunshot in the woods, Faith moved forwards and connected their lips. Jungkook apparently picked up the pieces of the puzzle fast enough, his hands quickly making its way around Faith’s waist and lifting her up on to the counter. He was an amazing kisser and she hated him for being a man with great qualities in every field.  

They seemed to part for just a second to catch their breaths before Jungkook kissed her again. He was clueless as to why huge relief washed over him, or why he unconsciously pressed her hips closer to his, but he was afraid to let go. Jungkook feared that maybe after this it would all be over, that this was just heat of a moment, but at the same time, he hoped that it was.

Faith was the first one to let go, smiling and biting on her lower lip, declining to look up. Jungkook’s hand slowly made it up to her chin, lifting it up. Galaxies weren’t a powerful enough term to describe what was going in inside Faith’s eyes. Galaxies, collision, world reborn.  

She wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing him closer and resting her head in the crook of Jungkook's neck.

“Jeon Jungkook, I hope this will be worth it”

“It will, I promise you darling”  

AN: Just don’t get your hopes up too high with romance my dudes

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts #bts fanfiction #bts angst #bts fluff #bts scenario #jungkook scenario #kpop #kpop fanfiction #kpop scenario #kpop fluff #kpop angst #namjoon #seokjin #yoongi #hoseok #jimin #taehyung

[cloudwomensquarterly]

Grinding Rock By Janet Rodriguez

I squat and release my bladder, breathing in the river’s green and looking up to the stars, just hours before we make our sacred journey to the grinding rock.  The early morning sky is dark purple where it touches the earth, but the moon is round and high in the sky, painting  foamy clouds yellow, pink and orange as they move near her. The longer I look, the more the sky changes, drawing twinkling stars toward each other, forming a new constellation—my mother, standing there in the sky.  I have never seen the stars move like this, so I am frightened. My mother has been dead for more than twenty winters, but now her form is clear in the stars, looking down at me.  Her face is bright, her unbraided hair flows over her shoulders, and her hands are glowing so brightly that I know she is here from the spirit life, where there is no need to grind acorns, or plant roots.  She wears her celebration dress and head covering, tightly woven with the friendship design. When she speaks, her voice sounds like the whispers of wind:

Me’yula, my daughter, do not fear.  Great change is coming for our people. On your journey to the grinding rock, take an extra basket strap with you in your baby’s cradle and be ready to trade it.  White men will overtake you, but death will be quick.  I will help you across the great river, into this world without boundaries.  You have no need to worry—the harvest of acorns will last through the winter, but soon we will be outnumbered in our own land.  The united chiefs will strike bargains with dishonest men.  Soon, your husband will step across the bridge to the spirit life.  Your daughter will be content among the living, even though she will join a people who are not her own.  Trust me, my daughter.  

She disappears as quickly as she came, and I am left there, still squatting and staring into the sky.

I stand up and look around.  The river and moon are still bright; the stars are back in their places.  I walk back to our house, wondering what just happened. A thousand questions dance in my head: Why had my mother not mentioned my son, Aku-aku?  What about my twelve-year-old daughter, Piwan? Will I be able to avoid death if I do not journey to the grinding rock?

I reach our house and walk in the doorway. My husband, Toh’l, is asleep on his mat, snoring loudly.  Our son, wrapped tightly, lightly snores next to him.  Piwan, is already awake, sitting up and braiding her hair.

“Why is your face troubled?” she whispers.

“I went outside to pee,” I answer, picking up Aku-Aku.  He wakes up as I unwrap the blanket that covers him. I begin to dress him in his day clothes, feeling Piwan’s eyes still on me.  I sing as I bring the baby’s mouth to my breast.

“Did you see something outside?” Piwan asks.

“Get the basket ready,” I say.  “We will leave as soon as Aku-aku finishes.”

***

The women of the three tribes gather once a year at the grinding rock, usually four days after the first harvest moon.  Two days ago, it appeared in the evening sky, like a pale gold sun, floating just above the horizon. Its light cast an orange glow over the entire village, and my cousin, Y’amu and I made plans for the journey.  I explained to Piwan that she would be able to join us for the first time, carrying our family’s acorn basket. I had never seen my daughter so happy.  She is usually a very serious girl, but that night, as we ate bits of dry deer meat together, she could not stop smiling. She will soon see how heavy the basket is.

Ek’imut, the only other woman still alive in our village, will stay home.  In the past year she has become unsteady on her feet, gnarled as tree roots. When I told her that it would not be wise for her to join us, her milky grey eyes were watery.

“I understand,” she said, but I could tell my words wounded her.  

In the last few years, we have lost many people.  Our tribe is no longer strong, even though we have survived disease, harsh droughts, and the violence of uninvited white men who want our land. We now live a life of grief, familiar with pain. This journey to the grinding rock is important for our community now.  It may be our final one.

Yokut traditions involve ceremony and celebration—these we must keep alive for our souls to recover.  The grinding rock is a sacred place, a wavy outcropping of limestone with more than a thousand mortar holes. Women travel from all directions, carry cone-shaped baskets filled with acorns, teach their daughters how to kneel on the grinding rock, grind the acorns with pestle stones in ancient mortar holes. We sing the songs of our ancestors, keeping the rhythm of shared tradition.  

My own mother never took me to the grinding rock. By that time, she had crossed over the bridge to the spirit world, and Ba’amu was functioning as my Yokut mother, the one who taught me how to live as a Yokut woman.

My mother died as she struggled to bring my baby brother into this world.  She was already weak from the virus that killed our people that winter.  I was younger than Piwan is now, but the women allowed me to stay for the birth, even when it got hard. Mama squatted over a hole in the middle of the dirt floor, one sister on each side of her, holding her elbows as she pushed.  Mama kept falling backward, moaning and weeping, asking if she could lie down. The women sang, dried her tears, and encouraged her as long as they could, but when her body collapsed and her eyes rolled back, the elder women jumped up.

“Lay her down!” they shouted. “Ca’ama, reach in and pull the baby out!”

I watched, silently, as two sisters removed a grey, lifeless baby from Mama and placed it on the basket tray.  I looked at Mama’s face. Her eyes were open, but nothing was in them. I looked around, wondering what I should do.  Ba’amu was suddenly at my side, taking my hand.

“Your mother and brother left this life,” she said. “They have flown away to a better place.”

“I want to go with them,” I cried.  

Ba’amu shook her head.  “Not today.”

As the women sang the death song, Ba’amu took me by the hand to the river, where she said my father was waiting for us.  As we walked, Ba’amu sang the death song slowly.

“Try to sing with me,” she said.  She was an elder, so I obeyed her, singing the strange words.  I felt something like the flapping of feathers inside of me, a caged bird, trying to escape.  We sang softly, but when we came close to the river, Ba’amu stopped.

“Wait here,” she said.  “I must tell your father by myself.”  She walked on, but I followed her quietly, until I could see the place where my father and my Uncle K’Anu were standing by the river, talking.  At first, they did not see Ba’amu approaching, but soon my father stood up straight and stepped toward her, ready to hear he had a son.  

I saw Ba’amu lift her right palm in front of her, a sign of refusal.  

“Your wife took your son to the next world,” she said. “They will be able to live there forever, without conflict.”

My father’s face did not change at first, but then he pulled off his buckskin pants, threw them to the side, and sank to his knees.  He lifted handfuls of dirt to his face and smeared it all over himself.  He hit the ground in front of him and began to cry tears. My Uncle K’Anu pulled him to his feet.

“Be strong, my brother,” he said.  He put his arm around him and they walked a few paces. I watched my father’s face, frightened of this emotion that I had never seen in him.  As I watched, my tears did not come.

In the next few months, my father and I lived like shadows.  People brought us food and we ate it.  When night came, we slept.  We did not sing or laugh.  My father did not pretend to chase me, like a bear, nor did he hunt with Uncle K’Anu.  We both missed her—the heart of our family.  I missed my mother’s brightness, and I missed the baby brother I never knew.

The Mourning Ceremony happened in the summer, after the twelfth moon.  Our tribe gathered near the river, and our chief, the great Leucha, led neighboring chiefs and their people as we all mourned for the ones we lost that year.

The first day of the ceremony, we sang and began the weeping.  For the first time since Mama died, my father and I cried together, wailing for the two of them.  We did this for two days, our tears so plentiful that they made a ring of water around us.  I hardly noticed the other mourners, crying in the circle with us.

On the third day, we made straw figures of the people we lost, taking up green and dried tules and string to tie them together.  I made a small figure of Mama. With the bark of the strip tree, I created a dancing dress for her, just like the one she wore to celebrations.  When I was finished, I made a smaller figure: a baby in a tiny cradle.  I tied the cradle to Mama’s back, weeping as I did.  I tied both figures to my chest with string, but Ba’amu came close to me and cut the string with her knife.  

“Never attach yourself to the dead,” she whispered to me. “Let them go.”

I wept. At night, I fell asleep in her lap.

The next day, I woke to the sounds of the big drum. When I woke, I could see the medicine men singing and dancing in their bright costumes and headdresses, moving in a circle around a large fire.  I took my place in the circle, sitting between Ba’amu and my father.  People began to dance in a circle, lifting their grieving dolls to the sky and then throwing them into the flames. Ba’amu showed me how to wave the smoke into my faces, breathing in the burning grief of others so we could share the burden of grief.

When my father got up to dance, two of our elders joined him.  The drum beat steadily and the song continued.  My father held his dolls, one as large as the other, and shouted as he cast them into the flames.  Ba’amu rose and danced, and without thinking, I joined her, feeling the drum take control of my arms and legs.  We danced, following the rhythms of the song.  My dolls reached for the fire and I released them to it.  The fire burned away these objects that held my grief and disappointment.

That night, everyone ate from baskets of fish, foul, acorn bread, berries, onions and squash.  I ate so much food that I felt sick.  I went to shit several times before I went to sleep in my house, but I was alive again.  

After the Mourning Ceremony, my father and I began to speak to each other again.

“Daughter,” he said one evening, not using my name—Me’yula—because it sounds like the name of my mother, Ma’aila, and it is dangerous to speak the name of someone who has died.  “Ba’amu will be your Yokut mother now.  She will show you the ways to be a woman.”

The ducks on the river called out, squawking and celebrating each member of the family, but I remained silent.  I did not want to hear my father’s words; I did not want a new mother.  I could feel my father watching me closely, so I answered.

“Yes, Father.”

The following day, I walked the path to Ba’amu’s house.  She was not there.  I looked around, and saw her praying by the great river, stretching out her arms and lifting her face to the wind. I walked down to Ba’amu, and lifted my own face to the sky, hoping that I would feel connection to the spirits, but I did not. When I looked back at Ba’amu, she was facing me.

“Your own mother has crossed the bridge into the spirit world,” she said.  “Now you have a life to live. Do you want to learn the ways of your people?”

I looked down at my feet and then back at her. “Yes.”

She nodded. “I will teach you the ways, but I know I will never take her place.”

And from that day forward, I was happy to call Ba’amu my Yokut Mother.

***

To remove the bitter taste from the acorn meal, you must treat it with hot water like this.  This cooking basket is different from your water basket, where you cannot put water or the fire stones. Do you see how the long wooden tongs are used to drop fire stones in the water?  I keep these tongs for the family. See how I lay the acorn meal on the sand and pat it down like this?  The sand will not get into the meal, even when we pour the hot water over the mush. They are all working together. Are you watching? Good. Pour the hot water over the meal like this.  Not to the side, but over it. See how the water is draining? Now, I will put these rocks back in the fire with the tongs.  See how I lift them? Now I push them into the fire.  Now we wait for them to get hot again. We will repeat this process four times, each time the water will filter through the acorn meal.  Once it is finished, we take out the meal and let it dry out in the sun again. This is how we make the acorn ready to cook.  

***

Aku-Aku smiles at me as I strap him in his cradle. Piwan picks up her new buckskin strap that my husband, Toh’l, has made for her, seasoning it with water and salmon oil.  She is excited to use it, and when she takes it outside, I can hear her attach the acorn basket to its ends and then pull it up with her forehead.  I take my own basket strap from beneath the blankets in the corner and tuck it beneath Aku-aku’s feet, safe in the cradle just as my mother told me. I lift the cradle and join Piwan outside.

Y’amuis already in the clearing, waiting for us, and Piwan helps me lift the cradle strap over my head, and adjusts it on my shoulders.

“Who will go to the rock with us?” she asks me.

“All of the women who have walked this road before us,” I answer.  “They are always with us.” When I face her, I see her eyes are filled with a hope so bright, it makes me weep.  

We join Y’amu in the clearing and begin our walk.

***

We start to sing the grinding song, encouraging our feet as we climb the slow grade to the grinding rock.  Y’amu and Piwan sing, not paying too much attention to the rising sun, climbing over the hill.  We are nearly at the top of our hill, a place where we can stop and rest and look down at our village, when I decide to tell them.

“Wait,” I say, stopping where I am.  They turn and face me, stopping their song and looking at me.

“What is it?” Y’amu asks.  She looks at the hem of my dress, expecting to see a tangle of thorns near my feet, or something else that stops me. Instead she only sees me, shaking my head.  

“The spirit of my mother came to me this morning,” I say.  

Piwan looks at me, and I can tell she is frightened. Y’amuis no longer looking at me, but over my shoulder. She lowers her acorn basket, and points at the river.

“Look!”

I turn around and see our village, silent in the mist.  The rising sun shimmers on the river’s surface, and the boats look like floating animal skins, even though they are actually sturdy tree trunks, held together by ropes.

“They must have tied them to our tree,” she says, kneeling down.  Piwan and I kneel beside Y’amu, and we all watch the river.

As I focus, I see a few men, dressed in mining clothes, smoking small pipes together.  They have guns on their backs.  I swallow.

“Mama,” Piwan whispers, “Shall we go warn the men?”

“The men know,” I say, confident that Toh’l is crouching in the tall grass, hidden from our view, ready to strike the boatmen, if necessary.

“We must go back,” Y’amu says.  

“No,” I say. “There is danger there and it is good we are here.”

Y’amu looks at me harshly.  

“You stay here,” I say, carefully unstrapping the cradle from my head.  I rest it on the ground next to me. Aku-aku is sleeping, and I hand his cradle to Piwan. “I am the fastest runner,” I say, “I can run to the grinding rock and get help.”

A jackrabbit darts past us, and we all turn to see why.  Three white men, wearing hats, long pants, and shirts are walking toward us, each of them moving carefully, but without fear.  I feel my bladder release as I watch them.  They carry short guns, not rifles. They look like the miners who travel the river, looking for gold. They look like they are smiling, but their eyes are hard.  One of them says something to us, looking down at us in our kneeling position.  I try to remember Mama’s words.  She told me to not fear them.

The white man who speaks has yellow hair.  He holds out his hand and points to the flat part of it.  

I stand up, and Piwan cries.  Y’amu grabs her arm.

The yellow haired man says something else. He points to his hand again.

I turn to see Y’amu and Piwan cowering in the grass, shielding Aku-aku with their trembling bodies.  

“Do not be afraid,” I say to them.  “Even if I die, you must not fear.”

I kneel over Aku-aku’s cradle and reach underneath him for the extra basket strap, which comes out easily. He does not stir when I put my forehead on his small body and whisper that I love him.  I touch Piwan, who is crying.

“Stay here,” I tell her.

I stand up and walk toward the men.  The yellow haired one steps back; the other two watch me closely, their small guns still in their hands.  They all smell of filth; they have not bathed.  I hold out the strap with both hands, offering it to the yellow-haired one, my eyes downcast.  He steps toward me, holding the short gun with one hand and taking the strap from my hands with the other.  He tries to examine it, but he cannot do it while he is holding the gun.  He lowers himself to the grass, never taking his eyes off me, and sits on his haunches; I do the same.  We are now only an arm’s length from one another.  He lays his gun down in the grass next to him and unfolds the strap. The other two men come near him and lean over to admire the tight weave, our pattern of health and friendship.

None of them notice when I pull yellow-hair’s gun toward me.  I want to throw it in the tall grasses, or take it home for my husband.  Heavy as a pestle stone in my two hands, I am unprepared to feel the thunder as it explodes. Two of the men jump and turn to me, startled.  The yellow-haired man falls forward, on his face.  He drops my strap in the grass, spotted with blood now.  One of the men bounds down the hill like the jackrabbit.  Piwan and Y’amu are screaming, covering the cradle with their bodies.  The last man is facing me, shouting.  He is trying to hold his gun, but he is trembling and his hands are not working properly.  I can see that he is only a boy, desperate and frightened.  I try to offer the gun to him, but something hits my chest with the speed of a hawk crashing into me.  I fall to the ground, without breath.  

Mama is suddenly next to me, taking my hand and pulling me toward the river.  There is no ground beneath our feet, only the sky. I look down and see Y’amu and Piwan over my empty body, weeping as they claw at their faces.  I see the body of the yellow-haired man, lifeless over the blue grass—my strap next to him, speckled with blood.  The man who shot me is beside him, on his knees, shaking the body of his friend.  The one who bounded down the hill is approaching Toh’l, crouching and waiting for him in the tall grass.

My mother and I are flying away, and I suddenly I feel her hand in mine.  I can feel her heart pumping with joy, and she can feel mine.  We sing a new song, one without words that celebrates the sweet faithfulness of the bridge that stretches between the limitless spirit world and the fading green river of the living.

Janet Rodriguez is an author and editor living in Sacramento with her husband, extended family, two dogs and one cat. In the United States, her work has appeared in Salon.com, American River Review, Calaveras Station, and The Sacramento Family Guide. Rodriguez has also co-authored two memoirs that have been published in South Africa. Her short stories, essays, and poetry usually deal with themes involving the mixed-race identity and experiences taking place in a culturally binary world. Currently she is an MFA candidate at Antioch University, Los Angeles, where she serves as an editor for the magazine, Lunch Ticket.

#Women #Short Fiction #Green River #Grinding Rock #CWQJ Winter 2019

[llantrisantscc]

Group C Round 5 - 8th August 2018

Lots of people back from hols this week, so only really Karl still out gallivanting. Quali in Red threw up something interesting, and to my recollection, probably unique in the club history (please feel free to trawl back and have a check). Russ pointed out that all 9 qualifiers finished on the same second – not just within a second of 1st to last, but actually all 9 of us on 8 point something! Cool.

The racing was, as always, quite quick and closely bunched. All three groups saw some very close quarter battles throughout the night. So let’s go racing – Alan got the launch spot on in Yellow as Heat 1 kicked off proceedings, Junior followed on in Blue with Lee at the tail in Red.  A lap later and Lee drove inside Seb to take P2 as he started to chase Alan. An off for both the leaders saw Lee rejoin at the front, with Alan snapping at his heels with Seb still within striking distance in 3rd. Alan got the slipper down as he harried Lee, and by L9 Lee succumbed by the smallest of margins as Alan regained the pointy bit.  These two guys drove the opening 13 laps absolutely side by side – you could tell they were really enjoying the dice. An off on L13 saw Lee drop back a few inches as Alan set off on his almost perfect run to the line. The single off on L4 was Alan’s only blemish as he stormed Heat 1 for the victory.

Seb was very relieved to get onto Green for H4 after the frustrations of Blue in H1. So much so, that he went flag to flag without too much interference from the other two.  Alan enjoyed the opening two laps in P2, but a poor L3 saw Lee capitalise and grab it from him, going all the way to the flag behind Seb, with Alan crossing the line at the back. A reversal of H1 !

Lee had the bum deal in H7, a lonely drive at the back trying to get the best out of Blue lane. Alan was within a whisker of Seb as he circulated in Green, but a trip up on L8 let Seb have a bit of breather as he started to pull away at the front in Red. A couple of hiccups just before the 2/3rds mark perked Alan’s ideas up a bit, but Seb soon got back in the groove and pulled away for a comfortable win.

The guys last outing in H10 looks relatively boring from the graphs – it was anything but! Seb got away in Yellow like a scalded cat, Alan was next away in Red with Lee chasing him from Green. Seb worked away at getting his laps consistent and thus eked out a good gap of several seconds from Dad who was doing a very good job of keeping his laps consistent too. It was a ll looking like a bit of a foregone conclusion, until Seb slid off on L25 – Alan was right on his tail! Both banged in four great laps and then both crashed on the last lap. Does neither want to win! Well, of course they did, with bated breath the Scuderia floored it for the line, with Seb keeping his composure and lead to tag a well earned win for the final heat. Lee kept bashing away at Green, but was unable to make significant inroads into Alan’s safe P2.

H2 was another linear affair, Martyn bringing up the rear with an utter nightmare in Blue – that’s his night in the bin! Leon charging hard and having a flawless Red, as Mike had just that little edge as he ran a flawless Yellow. The two front guys were nip and tuck all the way, a very exciting, close, and well driven race – try as he may, Leon was never quite able to pull in front of Mike, despite them both alternating a few tenths faster than the other as the laps counted down. Great racing!

ForH5, Mike sat out in Blue and sung Team America’s “Roanreee” for the solitary thrash around in the slow lane. Meanwhile, Leon got the drop in Yellow leading Martyn (Green) off the line. Leon’s first fumble of the night came on L4 and Martyn was through to the lead. On L9, Leon literally just squeezed ahead. The guys then had a great dice until Martyn got too excited and slid off on L15. Leon drove the remaining 15 laps very well, so Martyn couldn’t get a sniff in. The only other excitement in the heat was Martyn trying to fend off the shame of being lapped by Leon, but I.I.R.C. the king of slapshot did him on the last corner to earn lapping bragging rights.

Next time out, Martyn got the holeshot in Red and drove his first flawless heat in a long time to tag a flag to flag win. Leon got away 2nd in Blue with Mike on the chase in Green. There was about 0.5s in it until L13 – Leon ditched it and Mike took P2. Mike got his rhythm going and finished the heat with only one incident on L2, meaning Leon had no chance of closing the gap.

As they entered their last heat, Leon held a 9 seconds advantage over Mike, with Martyn a further 10 seconds back. The lanes were looking better for Martyn (Y) and Mike (R ) with Leon in Green. Martyn got a good start, edging away from Mike and Leon who were locked in a paint swapping duel just behind. An off for Martyn on L7 allowed Mike through, but it was Slipper time for Martyn as he regained the lead a lap later and started to pull away.  Leon and Mike once more put in flawless runs and were really chasing the bejabers out of each other. Another silly off for Martyn on L25 put paid to any chance of just nicking a place from mike at the end of the night, but have a look at the score sheets to see how far Mike was ahead of Leon as their race night drew to a close!  I think the three lads really enjoyed themselves tonight.

And so to group 1 in H3. Steve had a lightening start in Yellow and apart from his opening lap of 8.6s, did every other lap under 8.5. Craig was holding P2 in Blue, with Russ going pretty quickly in Red. L8 saw Craig’s charge slowed as he had an off, meaning he had to try and chase down Russ for P2. As Steve cleared off on his immaculate run, Russ ran consistently under 8.5 himself. The gap between Steve and Russ stayed around the 2 to 3 second mark for a good part of the race, with Steve eking it out to 4 seconds at the line. Craig had started to creep back towards Russ, but finished in P3 about the same distance back.

Craig (G ) got a flyer off the line as H6 got under way, Steve was pretty sharpish off the line in Blue, with Russ having a bit of a doze in Yellow. By L2 Russ was up to speed and demoted Steve to P3, and closing the gap on Craig. Good lap times from Craig made life tricky for Russ, though his persistence paid off as Craig binned it on L13. I was going to say “the bearded one then set off…..” until I realised everyone in the top group sports whiskers. Remember Leon, we need to grow a beard to win more regularly at Llany! So Russ set off to do some very quick laps until he overcooked it on L19 – whiskers in the eyes perhaps? But he got his mojo backstraight away and managed to keep a second a half gap over Craig as the latter drove the wheels off trying to catch Russ.  Steve, meanwhile kept it smooth to get the best out of Blue.

H9 by contrast was a “no overtaking” sesh, Craig taking the win in Red, Steve P2 in Green and Russ tail-end Charlie in Blue.

The grand finale of H12 had a little more of a dust up in it. Craig shot out of the gate in Yellow, with Steve half a second back in Red, but sadly it all got a bit cross threaded for Russ in Green as a double off dropped him out of contention – still podium slots to play for though, so he knuckled down and did the remaining 29 laps with his racer’s head on and came home without further mishap. P1 swapped hands on L4 as Craig hit the barriers, immediately followed by 4 sub-8 second laps as he chased the auld fella. All it took was one tail-slide from Steve on L11 to allow Craig to edge ahead.  Unheard of! Craig binned it again L18, but graciously, Dad did likewise a lap later. You couldn’t separate the two now. Then Craig went to the next level and started pulling out 3/10ths a lap – Steve was spent, he just couldn’t catch the youngster, with Craig taking a very well earned win and Steve taking P2 with full battle honours. What a race to finish the night on. And there was me bumping my gums a few weeks back saying we should drop Group C because it was boring! Not a chance, if any doubt about which class to run at this years GP, the excitement of tnight cemented the decision for us! Roll on Fiat 500s next week.

#Group C #Round 5 #2018 #llantrisant slotcar club

[notoriousjae]

The 72 Rules of Cat Grant || Supercat (8/?)

Chapter Title: Diving 

Pairing: Kara Danvers/Cat Grant

Rating: M

Chapter Description:

“I like this side of you.” Cat decides, throat bobbing as she swallows the offering.

“Of course you do. Because you’re so certain that it’s all your fault.” The tease causes another laugh and when Cat reaches across the desk, Kara runs fingers along her palm until she can hear her heartbeat ease into the softest staccato among the constant fluttering of pens outside this closed-off office of glass.

Note: Finally mostly up-to-date with all this jazz. 

Chapter 1: AO3 Link | FF.Net Link | Tumblr

Chapter 2: A03 Link | FF.net Link | Tumblr

Chapter 3: AO3 Link | FF.Net | Tumblr

Chapter 4: AO3 | FF.Net | Tumblr

Chapter 5: AO3 | FF.Net | Tumblr

Chapter 6: AO3 | FF.Net | Tumblr

Chapter 7: AO3 | FF.Net | Tumblr

Chapter 8: AO3 | FF.Net | Below:

It’s day five (and a half) by the time Kara feels her whole life flash before her eyes. Fortunately, the majority of it (where she had a fitful sleep for twenty-four years or so, waking up every few minutes or hours or years to gasp until the life support systems would guide her back into oblivion) is lost in favor of remembering the way Alex had looked when she took her flying the first time, mixed with a murky memory of how Catherine’s smile can catch sunlight. Kara doesn’t have much time to think, at all, and those two images seem to be the best her mind can come up with when her body is thrown through a concrete barrier, fingers scratching at cement to catch her before she can plummet into the murky waters below.

This is officially not her most graceful fight.

The overwhelming taste of green and copper is nauseating-- this is what nausea feels like--and when Kara spits, red spews like paint splatter against the dirty canvas of a life-stained bridge, stumbling to shaky knees when unfocused blue eyes spot the sight of her cousin towering over heaving shoulders of the man in front of her.

This isn’t the first time they’ve met. It’s the fourth, in fact.

It’s the same man, Kara realizes with a sinking dread, that had tried to kill Lena Luthor a few hours before--who had nearly killed her sister a few moments later --and the rage is displayed by another mouthful of something else when he rushes forward, fingers curling around a swallowing neck like an iron vice as she spits what blood she has into his face in defiance.

He merely wipes it away with a rumbling chuckle, the coldness of it seeping far deeper than the Kryptonite does. Which is saying something, because the green is slowly slithering up her spine like a venomous snake and breath is becoming ragged against a swelling tongue.

Powerless.

Kal-El rushes to stop him, but the Kryptonite seems to seep into his bones when Metallo (that’s apparently his name, he likes to throw it around like a trademark) blasts him in the chest, her cousin’s body skittering across the bridge like a lifeless ragdoll and Supergirl struggles against hands made of steel she can’t bend as the glow of green overtakes her, body raising limply into the air as her bending throat creaks like a rusty metal door underneath the weight of his hand.

Definitely not her most graceful fight.

There’s countless flashes from the few spattered civilians brave enough to remain on the bridge and when one throws something at Metallo's head to distract him, Kara lets out a rasping--

“ Don’t --”

--even as the action causes a deathgrip to ease, just a little, because the last thing she wants is for them to die defending her.

Kara really doesn’t want anyone to die, actually. Herself and Kal-El included. Because this shouldn’t be it--it shouldn’t be today--not the day when she’d left Winn asleep on his couch to go stop a robbery. Not the day she hasn’t seen James at all. She hasn’t written Lois. She hasn’t laid out her letters. She’d left a cup of coffee on Cat’s desk with no explanation, this morning and hadn't been the person to leave her lover's third, and had left her relationship with Alex in tatters over a very ill-executed suggestion of Metropolis in her apartment, and they haven’t made it to lunch with Eliza , yet, who is probably making the best sandwiches on any coast, and Kal-El--

Kal-El is stumbling towards them, as powerless as she is from the Kryptonite, and the last daughter of the House of El lets out a quiet, frustrated curse of an apology in Kryptonian, before shoving her hand as hard as she can into the green, glowing pit where a heart should be in this man’s chest with a groan of agony to draw his attention towards her.

Before doing what’s probably the stupidest thing she can think of, but the best option for getting him off this bridge and away from Kal-El--away from the people who are now rushing to help her--

A gasp as fingers claw, memories of a green ring and determined eyes and her sister--her sister--

Kara throws all of her body weight just like her sister had taught her, hand curling in this green abyss (this must feel like what shoving a human’s entire arm into a spreading, growing lava would be) feeling the tendrils of it spreading from her wrist to her arm to her neck. She inhales and exhales and suddenly her breath is green and her eyes are green and her world, weak and small and powerless, is green--

Her leg sweeps underneath his thigh and her nails dig in and pull him closer, not further away--

And she throws them both off the edge of the bridge with a pained gasp, the only thing she can manage, the man’s grunt of surprise in her ear overtaken by a string of very british-sounding curses.

Because only one of them can fly.

It’s halfway through their descent, however, that Kara realizes neither one of them can fly and swallows, eyes closing as she feels the wind rush through her hair and the sound of screams in her ears, and has just enough time to fish out the bracelet in her breast, bringing it up to her lips with a faint apology, holding it with what strength she still has.

Today should not be the day for this.

She didn’t say goodbye.

--

The sun is high and bright and beautiful and Kara’s shoulders almost lazily sag underneath the weight of it as she leans against Catherine’s desk, a takeout box settled on wood and a coffee settled very, very close to her chest. A few moments after depositing them, she decides to plop knowingly--easily--into the chair, instead, and it's a testament to how distracted the CEO must be because there isn't even a half-hearted chide dancing along the office walls, dripping with forced insult and barely-concealed amusement.

“Doesn’t it ever grow tiring, Kara?” Cat quietly asks, eyes settled on a clock and Kara has the most ridiculous urge to skim her lover’s fingers along the edge of gold around her wrist, instead. “Knowing I’ll be here at exactly the same time, every morning. Putting out the same fires with different names. Arguing over semantics. Doesn’t a young girl like you find it tedious dealing with the boring, repeatable minutiae of life?”

“I never get tired of seeing you at 7:05 on the dot, Cat. I actually love minutiae.” Kara shakes her head, coming forward with curled fingers at her lap to keep from running them along the lines of a brow that shouldn’t crinkle quite so deeply. Trying to follow the look in her eyes feels like chasing the tail end of a comet through the stars, something she’ll never be quick enough to wrap her fingers around, and when Cat lets a quiet sigh between the gap of her teeth, she feels succinctly like she’s said the wrong thing. “But I…”

“Of course you don’t, Kara. You haven’t been stuck in an endless Groundhog Day cycle of trying to turn around incompetence, doing the same thing for two decades.” Cat cuts her off, focusing back down on the paper underneath her and a small laugh bubbles up, unbidden, on Kara’s lips, trying to cover it with her hand. It rumbles between them and a singular eyebrow arches over the silver frame of glasses in unimpressed question. “I wasn’t aware my problems amused you. I suppose that’s what I get for paying Lucy van Pelt the 5 cents. Hell, you’ve barely even been alive for two decades, you’re like a perky little goldfish floating around, seeing everything for the first time and then forgetting five seconds later.”

Seeing the tension on Cat’s face, Kara tries to take the insult in stride because the moment she’d walked into a building she currently (for a few more hours) isn’t employed at, she could feel the heat off of Cat’s shoulders. And watch the after-effects of it, given the scurrying employees that told her to run while she could the moment she stepped on the 40th floor.

“Okay, forgetting the fact that you just called me a goldfish, I’m only laughing because I…” Eyes flick behind them and she scoots a chair closer to the desk, uninvited, and ignores the sigh she can practically feel bubbling up on familiar shoulders. “It was the word choice, Cat. I literally spent two decades in space. And I mean literally. Twenty-four years of floating around. Doing the same thing.”

It’s a rare treat to see surprise barely widen those eyes and Kara shakes her head.

“...that’s new information.” Cat’s careful with her word choice and Kara still sees that journalist in the corner of her eyes--squinting and quiet--even as she sees the lover in her clearer and clearer each day, in the way her finger so carefully squeezes the edge of her pen.

“It’s boring information.” The last thing she needs in this week is to see mockups on James’ desk referencing her twenty-four year casting as Sleeping (not) Beauty. She’s trying her best to keep Supergirl out of the news this week. She’s been in it enough, with Metallo. “I wasn’t kidding about the floating. But either way, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude.” Cat hums, dipping back in her chair, eyes ever assessing, and Kara leans forward to chase that comet, wrists resting on a desk, “There’s a quote I always think of when I think of you, Catherine--”

“You do realize a person who relies on quotes so often usually does so because they don’t have original thoughts?”

Kara’s eyes barely slit, finger raising, “Okay, that’s the second time. I’m letting you slide because I know you’re obviously stressed and it’s rare for you to talk to me about anything so you’re vulnerable and...and grumpy and I do not want to accidentally get Eve fired so I’m keeping my mouth shut,” She straightens her blouse a little, shoulders tightening as her finger wags, voice even and pointed because sometimes Catherine needs a bit of a push back, “But it’s technically not my job to get you coffee, anymore, and I swear I won’t do it if you keep this up, Ms. Grant. Because this one? This coffee’s mine, and I won’t share.”

Okay, it’s not her best threat.

“Oh, you won’t get me coffee ,” Cat drawls, calling her on it, “My world is ending. It’s almost like I don’t have a thousand nameless employees all perfectly capable of doing menial--”

“ Cat .” Kara’s jaw clenches and her voice sounds every bit as strong as the House of El and, amazingly, she watches fingers pinch at the bridge of a nose before they slowly slide off glasses, a hint of remorse settling in a familiar gaze even if her tone is intentionally--it must be intentionally--bored.

“I’m sorry , whatever.” But dark eyes flick towards the balcony and a small sigh lowers shoulders, quieter--barely a whisper, “I’m sorry.”

Kara takes that as her cue to slowly stand, shutting the office door and lowering the blinds--it’s not an uncommon occurrence mid-day for Cat to need a moment, another migraine tucking at the back of her throat--and a softness tips up lips when she sees a familiar hand splayed over the desk like Cat hasn’t expected her to turn around, at all. At the sight of a frown and a down-turned chin, Kara rushes to assure against such a nonsensical fear, voice the same humming volume of the background news coverage she clicks off (an earlier fight between the superheroes and Metallo) when she promises: “I wasn’t leaving, Cat.”

Catherine lets out a slow, slow breath, fingers rubbing at her temples, and Kara leans against a desk--lowers hands with a teasing, knowing bat to an older pair--and lovingly does it for her, hands smoothing against skin underneath the tight line of perfectly-styled hair that falls between them.

“If you scared me off with a couple of mood swings, I wouldn’t have made it past my first hour of working here. Definitely not the morning after we were together the second time.” There’s a faint, almost fond chuckle at the memory of it, “Or maybe I just forget,” It’s sing-song--beaming, “Because I’m a goldfish.”

Cat sags into her hands, a hint of a warm laugh breaking against her wrists, and lips brush over a tilted forehead in a soft gesture--a gentle forgiveness and quiet hello--a hint of gratitude, even, for being able to be right here for her. It’s the equivalent, Kara knows, of not going onto that balcony alone, and she won’t forsake it.

“I should have stuck with golden retriever.” Fingers curl around Kara’s wrist, nose turning into a palm, and when carefully-blackened eyelashes flutter, Kara can see an ocean of open green in Catherine’s eyes.

“Goldfish is fine. I think I like it. Mainly because, normally when people call me a dog, they’re using another word for it and they’re usually very loud.” A sage nod, “ Very angry. And it’s usually? When I’m helping put them in handcuffs.” Her nose wrinkles and Cat laughs and just like that, the day is a little brighter.

“Well the handcuffs could be arranged.” That’s a decidedly lower drawl and Kara flushes from it--crosses her leg on the edge of the desk--bites the edge of her lip underneath the faintest hint of a blush as she leans forward, a breath above Cat’s knowing eyes.

“Well, if you like being tied up, I have a cape that doesn’t fray.” It’s out of her mouth before she realizes she’s even said it and her cheeks turn the same shade as said cape at the image, clearing her throat a little, unused to being so brazen underneath the warmth of the sun but not shying away from it, fingers lowering from temples to skim along a cheek, a moment later hopping up and dutifully retrieving two pills and a glass of water before resuming her perch, those eyes heating skin far better than the sun ever has as she does.

“I like this side of you.” Cat decides, throat bobbing as she swallows the offering.

“Of course you do. Because you’re so certain that it’s all your fault.” The tease causes another laugh and when Cat reaches across the desk, Kara runs fingers along her palm until she can hear her heartbeat ease into the softest staccato among the constant fluttering of pens outside this closed-off office of glass, “If you haven’t the strength to impose your own terms upon life. You must accept the terms it offers you.”

“That’s the quote?” A thoughtful hum, but Cat doesn’t pull away, taking another drag of water as elegantly as a socialite might a glass a wine. “That sounds...familiar.”

“T.S. Eliot,” Kara supplies, “ The Confidential Clerk .”

“Of course, everything you could have possibly quoted by T.S. Eliot and some obscure play marks the top of the list.” The glass sets down on the edge of a desk, a reflection of Cat’s quirking lips caught along the edge of it like how stars catch in the glass of her bedroom window, at night.

“ I’m not the one that likes to drop Superfluous Man into the middle of a conversation.” Kara challenges and Cat leans fully back in her chair, fingers idly twining in a familiar pair, so casual and thoughtless that it makes a young smile soften.

“Oh, I really like this side of you.” A nail skims along the inside of Kara’s index finger and she laughs, raising it up to smiling lips.

“My point,” Kara tries because she’s hardly as motivational as the woman she’s attempting to motivate, “Is that you’re a strong woman, Cat, and in anything I’ve ever seen you do--anything you’ve ever done? You’re the one making the terms. You didn’t like that journalism was male-dominated--had no place for women, at all--so you one-upped the scene. You created every form of media sensation possible with, yes, a whole lot of work, you never stop telling any of us about the work, but you did it. Journalism, news, TV, radio. I’m sure people told you you couldn’t be a single mother and a CEO and CatCo is better than ever. And Carter is the smartest, most talented, brilliant kid I’ve ever met.”

Cat hums, a hint of pride flashing over a wistful smile at mention of her son, “That’s certainly true.”

“Even in the hard things, when you gave up your son,” Kara gently reminds, “Society says you can’t have it both ways, and you’re making things with Adam work--and before you blame me for any of that,” Kara raises her free hand, “This relationship with him? It’s all you. It’s on both of your terms, not what anyone else thinks of it.”

A slow, almost shaking breath straightens shoulders, “Also insightful, in a very odd way.”

A beat, "This isn't about the dinner with Adam, right?" 

Thankfully, Cat smiles, "No." So Kara continues, thankful and glad (and thinking that she should really go check that Facebook message).

“You paved the way, Cat. For women. You paved the way for all of us to be taken seriously without having to dress like men , either. Which, you know, is nice. Please no comments about my wardrobe.” That's a hasty addition, flushing and barreling on before Cat can get a word in edge-wise, “You’re a mother and successful. You have a portfolio that your accountant says is so well-rounded you could have your own gravitational field.” Kara shakes her head, pressing, “Even our relationship, Cat,” It’s gentler, voice dipping the same moment Cat’s eyelashes do, “We’re against all odds here, but instead of giving up, you created the terms. We both did. We’re making it work so far, aren’t we?”

“It’s been a few days , Kara.” Kara can hear it. She can hear Catherine’s breath catch against the edge of teeth--can feel her pulse barely quicken--but the almost shy smile that tucks up the edges of curving lips, amused and fond, is the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.

“It’s been five months, Catherine. Almost six.” It’s an argument she’ll never give up and the fact that Cat doesn’t even try is more than telling, “And we’ve survived. We’re forging new relationship territory, remember? You’re...you’re a woman who changes the world without changing herself to fit it. I’m in awe of it, sometimes, Cat. It’s hard not to be. But it’s just who you are. So why...why would this be any different? You’re talking about CatCo, right? About being unhappy here?”

A grousing hum is all the answer Kara needs, because this is a subject they've broached only in the darkest mist of night.

“Because it’s my entire company, Kara. It’s…” Cat sucks in a breath, frustration quickly overwhelming any traces of her smile, “I’ve spent so long building this empire. This image. My family and--”

“And the things you love, that you throw your whole heart into, aren't as disposable as you want to think.” Kara boldly notes, watching the way Cat's fingers barely flex and leaning closer before she can pull away, voice quiet, because she doesn’t think this is about them, she knows it’s about Cat. Cat’s happiness. And to Kara, that's more important than them. “I don't know what you're thinking of, Cat. I just know... you're not happy with the way things are here, anymore. I get it. And I know you could never leave CatCo or anything,” She laughs at the ridiculous thought and looks curiously at the profile of a woman who suddenly seems content to look through the windows to a balcony overlooking her city--content to look anywhere but Kara. “I know we talk a lot about duty and...that people depend on us.” Kara doesn’t like the way Cat seems to be caught outside, reaching forward to gently tuck up a chin--to bring a gaze up to meet her own away from the city they’ve sworn to protect. “But there's so many ways to help the world, aren't there? And if the way CatCo is doing it isn't what you want anymore...then I don't think anyone on this planet--on any planet, and I've been to a lot of them--is more capable of changing the terms of the world to fit how she thinks the world should be. If you’re not happy, you’ll change it.”

“You...really mean that, don't you? You really think it could just be that easy. Just change the world.” Cat scoffs a little, but there's something so hopeful in her eyes, Kara's words a near tipping point in a game of dominoes. Kara doesn't know what she's done, and likely never will. “You’re so young.”

“Maybe.” Kara concedes, “On this subject you’re definitely the mentor.” Her smile turns sheepish, “Okay, on most subjects you’re my mentor. In fact, I’ve spent a long time studying you, Cat--I'm still adamant that that was part of my job description--so you should be able to take my word for why I believe it’s possible. It’s because you’ve already done it. Your whole life. If you're not happy, and I think you deserve to be happy--you deserve...so much. To be happy,” It’s cold when she drops fingers from a chin, offering a supportive smile, instead, “Then you'll find a way. And if there's anything I can do at all, to help…”

A hand waves towards herself--hopeful and eager and honest--not understanding the hint of conflict settling so deeply, however brief, on Cat's features.

It’s only a moment--a flicker of vulnerability--but she’ll never forget it, the faint flicker of something dark casting shadows over the bright light of Catherine’s lips. It makes Kara stumble a little over the words, enamored by it:

“You should focus on it. The being happy part, remember?”

Kara thinks it must be the weight of figuring out what to do with CatCo--even feels a naive, righteous sense of warmth in her chest from having helped in even the smallest ways--and she'll never quite understand the look in Cat's eyes.

Because that’s the thing with those small, hidden moments before everything changes, it’s impossible to recognize them as lasts until they’re gone. Kara has pockets full of moments just like this one stuffed in a hidden compartment by her heart--her mother’s fingers skimming along the edge of a necklace as she explains love; her father’s eyes brightening as he taps knuckles along a sculpture; Astra’s lips in a dream brushing over her forehead; and this, this moment of Cat’s eyes haunted and conflicted, holding onto something like a planet that’s turning green from the inside out, determined to take the galaxy with it.

Kara towers over Catherine and watches green eyes catch in the sun, the memory burnt on the back of eyelids with a unforgiving sting of a fountain pen. There’s a breath that tumbles from Catherine’s parted lips that means something in its indefinite silence--that hints towards a lifetime of possibilities unsaid--and Catherine almost says something--maybe almost says everything --and this small, simple little exchange is what will play on repeat for months.

Kara Danvers will play it over and over and over again like nails desperately scratching at a broken record. She'll replay the way Cat's hair falls in front of her eyes as her nose dips. The way that her eyes almost shine above those shadows of her cheeks. The way her breath rattles and quakes. The way those fingers curl nails in anxiety and promise.

The way Catherine's lips part and she...says nothing, at all.

What did you want to say?

Kara will beg her to say it. She’ll never scream--never fall to her knees in rage and loss--she’ll never argue or even actually ask anyone but a figment of a ghost of someone she swore not to love--she’ll beg an empty corner of her bed that’s no longer cold, and that’s worse, somehow.

But right now, happy and light and carefree, Kara doesn't notice, instead drumming her fingers on the edge of a desk with a light shrug, too busy trying to pull Cat out of her own head to dive into it, instead. Because that’s her job, these days, she feels, even when she doesn’t exactly have one--to keep Catherine from collapsing in on herself like a singularity with hope and love, alone.

“I was only kidding about not getting you coffee.” Kara smiles and Cat's eyelashes flutter as she lets out that almost quivering breath, nails curling into her desk. It must be nerves or exhaustion but Kara is determined to help cure either, promising, “Let me go grab it for you. Before you can tell me it's not my job, I want to.” A genuine smile, “The little things. I won’t be able to come back here today, anyways, so I’d...like to.”

A foot turns on a heel, intent on walking away and she makes it to the door, fingers curling around warm metal but knowing better to raise the blinds until Cat is ready. Something else she'll have to inform Eve and she's so focused on mentally running through the list in her desk--distracted by the thought of making sure that Ms. Grant has the best replacement possible (did she miss telling Eve anything, while she's here?)--that she almost misses the way Cat's voice quakes when she barely whispers her name.

“Kara?”

Another turn on her heel with a soft hum of question, adjusting the glasses on the bridge of a nose. The sun has settled in Golden hair and showcases the shadows underneath eyes and for one of the few times Kara will ever see it, Catherine Grant visibly hesitates.

Her mouth stills--words halt--and her lips press a thin line. The smile that follows is forced but genuine, something deep cemented in resolution in the depth of her lover's eyes as she jokes:

“My hero.” There’s a quiver at the edge of her lips--a shine to that endless, painting of eyes before Cat’s looking back down. Back to work. “Scalding hot, please.”

But there sounds like there's truth in it--like Cat believes she's a hero through and through--and it makes Kara beam, turning around to get that third latte of the day.

“Anything for you, Ms. Grant.”

Her phone dings at Noonan’s ten minutes later, a freeze-frame of stolen pictures and smiling eyes there to greet smiling eyes.

Thank you.

Teeth tuck at lips and when her phone buzzes again, blue soften and for a second the latte she’s grabbed might actually feel warm against her open hand.

“Boyfriend?” Eve’s tired voice--Kara sympathizes because boy does she still remember her first day, even if this is technically Eve's second--calls around her shoulder, light and kind and knowing and she quickly tucks away her phone, shrugging a shoulder.

“Just a nice text for a nice day.” She offers, instead, eyes flicking down to the mug before raising it up, “Think you’re ready to deliver this one on your own?”

Eve looks terrified.

“Oh, come on, I promise, it won’t be that bad. You’ve done it twice and she hasn’t killed you, right?”

Kara takes another look at her phone, wise enough to hide her smile, this time.

I’m sorry.

A quick reply hidden by her hip--

I’m sticking by the goldfish. It’s forgotten. Really. We’re more than ok Cat. Eve’s bringing you your caffeine fix so please be nice.

Adding for good measure--

Please be nice *Ms. Grant*. Typo?

Even better measure:

Ms. Grant, who has the right to fire anyone she wants but should be nice anyways. ;) Gosh, look at those typos.

She can hear Cat’s indulgent, annoyed sigh forty floors down. The blinds are back up and Kara smiles over Eve’s shoulder the entire time when Cat shoots her a knowing look but wordlessly takes the latte and that’s enough of a victory for Kara. It should be a simple moment, lost and forgotten, moving about her day with no clue--no idea.

“You don’t work here, anymore, Kiera.” Cat calls to her with a glance at a watch, “Seven hours.”

“Yes, Ms. Grant. Consider me not here.”

“Like anyone could shield their eyes, you're like a walking Forever 21 ad.” But Catherine’s smiling now with a flick of a dismissive hand, Eve looking after her like she’s awaiting a nuclear bombing.

Kara’s decidedly not a goldfish. She doesn’t forget.

She sighs in a big, white, empty office, fingers running along stuffed-away pictures, sagging onto a table as she drums fingers along her desk and frowns.

Idly, she plans to get a picture made of the one of Cat on her phone--plans to gently tuck it in a safe place right next to J’onn--and leaves before she can think anymore about a ticking clock, sipping on her own coffee, not bothering to heat it.

Lena’s name lights up the screen of her phone and Kara shoots up into the sky a few minutes later, unable to shake the look on Cat’s face, leaning over a desk, a thousand words left unsaid, and Kara isn’t sure why.

It's the beginning of an end--such simple things usually are--and anytime Kara ever thinks back on it, she'll cry.

--

The last thing she sees is Kal-El, stumbling and just as powerless as her, diving after her over the edge of the bridge, whatever words croaking out of his lips lost to the sound of the wind.

khap zhalish

The last thing she hears is the sound of Metallo hitting the water and going silent.

--

“Alex, I’m not saying I’m going to Metropolis, I’m just--”

“Leaving? What is that like our family motto? Did you ever stop to think that I’ve changed my whole life --”

--

The last thing she does is smile up at Kal-El, trying to assure him as best she can, despite the fear that slowly settles in the pit of her stomach. Falling, at least, feels a lot like flying.

--

“J’onn?” Kara whispers, fingers tenting over a knee as her chin falls down to it, eyes flicking over towards the familiar, somber face. He hums in acknowledgment, the afternoon sun painting the shining floors of the new DEO building in a way Kara is still getting used to. Everything is so...shiny now. Not all...rock-lair, cave-motif.

“Supergirl?” His voice is gruff as always and she wonders if he would understand what it’s like to not sleep for nearly six days, because she’s certain he sounds like he’s never slept, at all.

“Do you think we can ever be happy? I mean, sure we can, right? Saving the world...” She trails off, chin tipping back as she searches the lines of an exposed ceiling, the words to her question lost on her tongue, unsure how to phrase it outside of her mind, “I know we’ll stop Cadmus--I mean, who comes up with a name like that, anyways? What does that even mean--and we’ll stop whoever comes after that, and I know that the world is full of rules . Especially for people like us. But one of those rules...one of those rules has to be that we should be happy, right?”

“I think…” Kara doesn’t look at his face, but his voice sounds so calm--so confident--so steady as his fingers curl around her shoulder, “If there’s anyone that deserves to find out, it’s you and your cousin.”

“You think?”

“I know , Ms. Danvers.” She turns to take in his smile, then, and she leans into his hand before the squeeze becomes a pat. “You’re still not sure which job--”

“No.” Kara sighs, “It's not that. I think I know, I just...I wonder some days if--I mean, between Alex and Kal-El and Cat--”

“J’onn!” A voice calls around the corner, “We’ve got reports of a jumper on--”

--

The last thing she thinks before the impact of the ocean engulfing her like an unwanted gift, the pain rattling like a broken baby’s toy through her shattering bones, is that Eliza? Alex?

Catherine?

They’re going to kill her if she dies.

The water soaks through her suit, ice and lifeless, staining the white of a list until it crumples so that when it’s unfolded, for the rest of its life, it will never unfold the same way, again. Like the thin line of glass that can never be repaired to its first form, an uncompleted list will crumple at the edges and fold in uneven lines, some of the ink running at the edges.

It will change--break and mend--just like a heart can.

--

Rule #72….

--

Life isn’t as dramatic as the movies--as the books she spent years pouring over bent knees devouring--and maybe hurtling herself and a man bent on destroying dozens of people (herself and her cousin, included) off of a bridge is maybe a little dramatic by nature, but waking up from it isn’t.

She wakes up to an empty room, the heat of a sunlamp staining the rise and fall of her chest with life.

She wakes to a dozen voicemails and one text, in particular, that makes her swallow--she wakes to Kal-El’s smiling, cut face as they both heal--she wakes having not really slept, at all, five and a half days lacking it settling down her healing bones underneath a false Sol just as much as the Kryptonite had.

She wakes up to J'onn's nervous eyes and Alex gone and doesn’t let herself heal and Kal-El doesn’t ask her to. She wakes to her sun having set and the world tasting like cold and green and she tucks a bracelet back in her pocket, not having let go of it for a moment--a breath--the entire time she laid there.

Kara wakes up, maybe, but she doesn't feel awake.

Kara tears apart the city to find her sister and doesn’t let her go when she does, a murmured apology in her ear that’s doubled ten-fold against her neck.

She wakes and heals and saves and a few hours later, all four of them--J’onn, Kal-El, Alex, and Kara--are once again in two separate cities, determined to protect the people within them, moonlight at their backs.

Death doesn’t stop them, and neither does Metallo. She rips out his heart and barely keeps from crushing it beneath her palm.

Kara doesn’t remember being in the water--doesn’t remember much save for falling--but she’ll see the headlines of the image of Superman cradling her body against his chest as he stumbles out of the ocean like a beacon as he holds her , a bracelet limply hanging from her fingers as the sun settles on his shoulders and dances shadows on her bruised, barely recognizable features. Both of their forms cut and bruised and hanging on the edge of life, war-torn and martyrs.

She’ll see the picture hung on the edge of what was once Catherine Grant’s wall, along with their other highest-selling covers--right next to the one of them both healing, scraped and bruised, towering over Metallo--for months every time she walks into the office and feels a chill hang over her features.

She doesn’t remember, but she’ll see that picture and will shatter a breath against her teeth and understand why Cat couldn’t bear to look at it, at all.

The whole night is spent tracking Cadmus with little to show for it and, eventually, in the early hours of the morning--day 6 because being in some kind of coma or something does not count as sleeping--Kara hugs Kal-El tighter than anyone else could, feeling Alex’s fingers on her shoulder, and tells him that she’s staying.

She’s staying. That’s a decision she knows how to make. She’s not going to Metropolis. She’s never going to Metropolis, not as long as Alex is here.

So Kara watches him shoot off into the twilight sky, taking a piece of herself with him--thankfully taking the last of the Kryptonite, as well--before she kisses her sister’s cheek and shoots off, herself.

It’s nearly five in the morning when she sets down on a familiar balcony and wonders why she isn’t surprised to see Cat leaning on the edge of it, swirling a glass in her palm. Either she stayed here the entire night--unlikely, given Carter--or just started early, but the circles unhidden, silhoutting the features of familiar eyes is telling, enough, and Kara has to swallow down more than breath when she comes closer.

Without a word, bruised fingers gently untuck a bracelet from a suit, a little squeezed but since cleaned (haphazardly cleaned in a DEO sink by her cousin at Kara’s pleading, pleading look, and then feverishly cleaned the moment Kara could stand on trembling knees an hour later) and offers it palm up to the woman next to her as their shoulders brush, settling next to her on the balcony.

It’s not unusual that Kara doesn’t know the right words to say--it’s a daily occurrence--so when Catherine takes a long, long drag of the liquid before reaching forward, nails almost reverently skimming along the expensive, bent bracelet, Kara doesn’t bother trying. Instead, she just holds the bracelet up as Cat becomes reacquainted with it--dips fingers underneath the shine of it--and when her lover’s breath finally rattles into the night, Kara doesn’t mention the wet sheen to dark eyes, clear even so high above the city, lights dim and quiet. She just gently unhooks the bracelet and slides it around Cat’s wrist, raising it up to her lips and kissing it in silent apology, just as she had before plummeting into the ocean. Not that she would tell Catherine she’d done that, at all.

That doesn't seem like knowledge that would help.

At least this time, she feels a heartbeat flutter underneath her touch.

And Catherine’s so slow about it, the way her wrist turns and so carefully cups Kara’s cheek in a trembling palm, thumb brushing over the high rise, underneath the worst of her still-healing cuts, that Kara wouldn’t know the words even if she tried to stumble over them.

“That is not what I meant by diving. You certainly like causing a spectacle of yourself, don’t you?” It’s a dry whisper--like a barrel full of whiskey, a burning match hovering above it--and Kara just leans into her. It’s been a long day and there’s familiarity in it, a hint of a laugh flushing cool cheeks.

“Someone likes to tell me I like being difficult.” Kara swallows because the thin smile Cat’s attempted gives way to something else, leaning down to slot their foreheads together and the quaking anger does little to overrun the hint of something far worse on her lover’s tongue.

“We have nearly three dozen witness testimonies regarding your idiotic heroics, and none of them understood the gravity of what happened in front of them. Pictures showing you bleeding before you practically backflipped off of the bridge. You could have--”

“I came home to you.” It’s gentle and loving and a little desperate, lips brushing over a forehead and Cat’s fingers tangle so tightly in her suit that she can barely breathe. “Catherine--”

“You’re still bleeding.” It’s a searing breath that curls up in pain at the end, Cat’s fingers tracing the wound below a bloodshot eye and Kara catches her wrist with a faint wince as that jaw lines itself with steel and features contort in something indistinguishable before Catherine pulls away altogether. Voice far colder: “You missed your deadline--”

Kara selfishly kisses her like her life depends on it--like she can’t catch Catherine with fingers or words, so she tries chasing her with this, instead--pressing her up against glass with a withering, breaking sigh against parting lips. Fingers tangle in her hair and the sound of a bracelet clattering to the floor is lost underneath the scratch of heels, because Kara had forgotten to re-clasp it.

“I don’t care about my deadline.” Kara kisses her again because the further and further Kal-El shoots into the sky, the further the green seeps out of her bones and she knows she can keep Cat here against her with super-strength, but she’d rather keep her with something far darker in the pit of her chest. Almost accusing: “You came up here to wait for me.”

“I wouldn’t--” Catherine practically hisses , a frustrated breath on the edge of her tongue rolling like a locomotive up her lungs, her hands cupping cheeks and tugging her close. “ Yes . I had to see you with my own eyes.”

“I’m right here.” Kara promises, pulling away so that Cat’s fingers can trace every single line of her face like her thumbs are far more knowing than her eyes. And they might be. She sucks in a sharp breath when a thumb swipes underneath that same cut, surprised when Cat tugs her down and gently brushes lips underneath the puckered edge of healing skin.

Catherine kisses her again, consuming and rough, and Kara’s knees shake before she's suddenly pushed her away, again, just as rough and just as consuming, jaw setting.

“We’re crashing the cover.”

“You’re--” Kara blinks because it’s five AM and she doesn’t know how she missed the noise--the life in the building--because her ears are still full of Kryptonite and her lungs might still be full of water, “Oh.”

“You don’t work here, anymore.” Cat straightens her hair--her blouse--sets aside her drink and stands taller than Kara knows how to, shoulders wilting and something quaking pushing through parted lips.

“...oh.” A hint of a desperate laugh, wishing she at least had the bracelet to hold onto because suddenly she feels very, very cold, surprised when fingers gently tuck up her chin and she comes face to face with Catherine’s determined, unwavering gaze. There’s something sad there, now--something Kara’s well aware she’s put there--and it makes her swallow feel like glass. But still she can’t stomach the thought of Metropolis, not now. Not after holding Alex’s trembling hands and not after seeing the look in Cat’s eyes. “I’ll--”

“I extended your deadline.” Cat whispers and Kara blinks.

“You--” Another blink, unable to help the surprise. A third blink because-- “Really?”

“Kara, I’m tough, not cruel.” Her voice is quieter, then, fingers falling from a chin and Kara boldly catches them.

“I don’t think you’re cruel, I just--”

“Thought that I was going to fire you for trying to save someone’s life on the off-chance that you were stupid enough to die?” Cat supplies and Kara swallows.

“Well, I--no? Not exactly...that. Maybe fired me to make a poi--”

“Stop talking before you dig yourself into a hole superstrength wouldn’t get you out of. I’m well aware of what people think of me, I don’t need to add what your pedaling little thoughts are to the--”

Kara reaches up to cup her cheeks in a way that makes Cat visibly tense, words dying out before she smiles, “You don’t want to hear that I think the world of you? I know it’s a little too cheesy for your tastes.”

“You really have to stop talking.” Cat warns but there’s a hint of a smile there, now, and lips brush over a forehead, holding the smaller form against her chest for as long as she’s allowed. Which is longer than expected, long fingers gently raising to spread out over a heart as a nose slots against a neck. Kara can feel the heat of the sun--faint and faraway, but there--on her back by the time Cat untangles herself, a rough sigh sliding past her lips. She bends down and clasps the bracelet properly on her wrist, now.

“Catherine,” Kara murmurs before she can go too far, kissing the rise of knuckles before letting her lover go, completely, “I’m not saying that I think what I did was...okay. I’m not trying to make you feel better, but I...did. Come home to you. I’ll always come home to you, if I can. You’re--you’re what gave me the strength to--”

Cat raises a hand up in-between them, stopping Kara in her tracks, and the look on her face, however brief, is pained enough that Kara feels regret over saying anything at all. The bracelet jangles as the hand lowers and the CEO of CatCo looks back towards her lit office, shoulders straightening and heels clicking, a discarded drink on the nearby balcony table.

“You have until Friday afternoon, 4 O’clock, not a moment later. You’re not stepping foot here in any form of professional capacity until then.”

“Okay.” Kara breathes--nods--looks back up and clears her throat at the straight line of shoulders she wishes she could spend hours easing the knots out of with well-intentioned fingers. Knots she caused. And she thinks Catherine was right, this weekend--she does have to learn how to live with affecting her. “Thank you...Ms. Grant.”

Cat nods and leaves and the balcony feels colder for it.

As cold as the city seems without Kal-El--without Kryptonite, even--and Supergirl turns to tower over her city for a few more minutes before falling down to the street, to the corner around the corner, leaning against the wall by Noonan’s.

She strips off her suit and slowly pulls up jeans--a shirt--and looks down at glasses, cracked along an edge she’ll need to fix, cupped in her palm as the sun starts to rise. She listens to the city wake and the life paint the streets in gold and red and green and with a suit tucked in her bag, a cut slowly healing underneath her eye, Kara Danvers starts the long walk home to an empty apartment across the city.

Alive and exhausted and cold, she doesn't really feel like flying. 

 --

 **Kryptonian Translations, Mythos, and other DC shenanigans** Source(s) Language **Zhalish: Pardon, excuse, absolve, disregard, exonerate. Another way of saying "I'm sorry". verb P: [n̩.ʒæ.liʃ]; Kryptonian: :ZAliS

#supergirl #supercat #kara danvers/cat grant #is kara ever gonna pick her job? #who knows #ff #ff: sc #fic: 72 rules #fic: sc #fic: 72 rules ch 8 #I'll add the ffnet link later #I'm on a delay with ffnet #because tbh I hate it