#chapter drop yo!!!

[oh-meow-swirls]

so is blasters really long or is the end level really low-

#puppy rambles #yo-kai watch #chapter 5. only level 20 #is this gonna end up like 2. will i have to grind for hours #bad flashbacks to having to grind on the wicked yo-kai in old springdale for several hours over the span of two days #just to be the right level for dame dedtime. why doesn't the game drop you off at the right level- #1 n 3 drop you off at like the exact right level. did both phases of those bosses first try #even when i'm the right level for dame dedtime she takes me a couple tries to beat. dame demona is really easy though-

[bunnywritesjunk]

My King

Series summary: Your parents signed you up for an Alpha Omega Match company when you were eighteen. It took years for them to find your match, but you meet the giant austrian man. Will he be a good partner?

Chapter summary: You get a call from your mother regarding your match. You are nervous to meet them, but they turn out to be a pleasant surprise.

Pairing: König x Fem Reader

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics (Never use this abbreviation without the slashes it is an indigenous slur) 18+ MDNI (no others for this chapter)

Word count: 4.1k (damn thats a lot for me)

Genre: Mostly Fluff a little angst here and there.

A/n: Yo Yo Yo whatup. New fic dropping. This one is black/poc coded but anyone can read. I haven't seen any poc coded cod fics just yet (if you know any send them my way). If you do not like Omegaverse fics please do not read. Also I tried making a cute little mood board, i think it sucks but I tried my best. Konig art credit. (I couldn't find the art credit for the girl). König and reader are neurospicy. I got inspired to do an Apex Alpha König from @ghostlythunderbird go give them some love please. Also this is kinda what I imagine him looking like.

Next Chapter

Chapter One:

His back ached as he climbed the few steps to his door. The passage back to his home was uncomfortable. All König wanted to do with collapse on his bed. The duplex he resided in was decent, the little old woman who rented it to him was very sweet. König had a hard time getting anyone to rent to him. His status as an Apex alpha was concerning for most people. They believed him to be violent and inconsiderate. His landlord is an omega that lives with her alpha mate. König managed to convince her. She thought he was sweet and kind. He opened the foyer door that lead to both apartments. He glanced at the mailbox, wondering if he should wait until morning. Begrudgingly, he took out the small mailbox key and fiddled the metal box open. He grabbed the plethora of mail and closed the box gently. The box was filled up quite a bit as he had not been home in a couple of weeks. 

Heading up the stairs he filed through the mail. Most were junk coupons and magazines, some were credit card sign-up letters. One envelope caught his eye. It had no company name just a large white manila envelope addressed to him. He opened his door and stepped inside placing the mail and his belongings on his couch. He ripped open the envelope and took out a thin book. It had the circular logo of the AOMO, the Alpha Omega Match organization. 

König started at the cover his heartbeat sped up the longer he thought about it. He signed up for the program after a particularly hard mission he had in KorTac. He left and joined the 141 and decided he wanted an omega. A lot of the men in the 141 had partners they could come home to. König wanted that. Most people were too afraid to be in a committed relationship with him. König often settled for one-night stands with betas but it left him feeling empty. He opened the packet to the first page.

'Congratulations!' The first word read. His heart beat harder the more he read. 

'We have found you a match!' König's heart felt like it was going to pound out of his chest. 

'In the plastic wrap, we've provided a fresh scent sample from your potential match. If you like the scent of your match, please send us a scent sample from you as soon as possible.' 

König gripped the packet and leaned over the table, putting his weight on the table. He took a deep breath, he felt a mix of fear and excitement. When he signed up he was not hopeful for a match. He assumed his situation was too complicated for them. He flipped through the packet before reading the rest searching for the scent sample. A plastic bag fell out onto the table. It was sealed and had a verification sticker assuring its authenticity. König picked up the bag carefully. It had a square of white fabric inside it. He took his hood off before opening the bag gingerly. The scent instantly made his knees weak. This Omega had a warm and spicy scent. Coconut and sugary vanilla with hints of sandalwood. König stuffed his nose into the bag inhaling the deep rich smell of this Omega. 

König sealed the scent sample wanting to savor it. He opened the packet back up to the first page. It said once he mailed his scent sample and was approved by his match, they would arrange a meeting with him and his match. There was more information about this Omega and their family along with the reasoning for them picking them. They informed him that this omega was a twenty-six-year-old female. Her father is also an Apex Alpha, he is retired American military. They did not provide a picture of any matches because they wanted the connection to be based on instinct rather than looks. Her mother is an Omega that works as a teacher. There is not much else about the Omega but, König is hopeful. He reads the instructions to send his scent sample. They provided a kit with a form envelope, a small square of fabric, and a plastic bag, almost identical to the one he received from his match. 

'Wash your hands, and rinse any dirt off of your scent glands.'

'Then remove the fabric from the plastic.'

'Rub the fabric on your clean scent glands for 20-25 minutes.'

'Seal the fabric thoroughly in the bag provided .'

He shed his vest and protective gear, the last thing he wanted was for her to smell dust and gunpowder on him. König tried to quell his excitement as he followed the directions. Rushing to his bathroom and then back to his dining room. The fabric square was slightly smaller than his palm. He cupped the crook of his neck, sandwiching the fabric between his hand and his neck. He rubbed gently filling it with his scent. He read the rest of the packet as he rubbed. The rest was mostly semantics about the company and its policies. He combed it a few more times trying to memorize every piece of information about his Omega. 

König smiled gently, he shouldn't think of her as his yet. She smelled so good, too good for him. He smelled the cloth every once in a while to ensure his scent was potent enough. When he was done he placed it in the bag and sealed it. He filled out the form and packed the pre-paid envelope neatly. He grabbed his keys and left his apartment to go to the mail drop-off on the corner of the block. He needed to send it today, he wouldn't be able to sleep if he didn't. He walked back to his apartment having long forgotten about his back pain. 

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

You looked at the list on your phone pushing your shopping cart. Buying the week's groceries had fallen to you this time as your mother was dealing with state testing for her students and your dad was on a hunting trip. You maneuvered the isles expertly collecting the items on your list. As well as some extra sweet snacks you like to indulge in much to our mother's chagrin. You were about to put a pack of Oreos in the cart when your mom called.

“Hello?” You answered but all you can hear was excited screeching. You held the phone away from your ear until she quieted down. 

“He accepted you!!!” She screamed. 

“What? Mom, you're too loud.” 

“The match company! The match they picked liked your scent.” She giggled. 

You were slightly stunned. Your parents signed you up for the AOMO when you were eighteen. You weren't that on board with it but you let them. You know they only want the best for you. You kept sending scent samples every year but they never got back to you about anything. Now, six years later they show up with a match for you. 

“I just got the call, they're sending a scent sample for you right now it's gonna get here in a few days.” 

“Wow...” That was all you managed to say. 

“Now I know this wasn't your ideal way to meet someone, but just please be open-minded sweetheart.” 

You sighed. “I will. I'm finishing up at the grocery and I'll head home.”

“Alright, I'm gonna be home soon too, bye sweetie.” 

You hung up the phone and stood in the aisle. You placed the pack of Oreos in the cart and moved to get the rest of the items before checking out. 

When you arrived home your mother was there waiting. She squealed and hugged you before helping you take the grocery bags inside. 

“I am so excited for you! I have heard so many good things about the AOMO. I bet whoever they picked is gonna be great.”

“Let's hope.” You say. 

The next few days went by quickly. You dove into writing your next few chapters to take your mind off of the match. The sequel to your best-selling fantasy novel was underway. Your days consisted of writing, planning, engaging with fans, and talking to your editor. You typed out the outline for the next few chapters when you heard a knock. 

“Come in.” You said. 

Your mother walked in holding a large envelope. “Guess what came today?” She said excitedly. 

 Your heart thumped with anxiety. She placed the envelope on your desk.

“I’ll leave you to it, let me know if you like them.” She sauntered out of the room happily. 

You picked up the envelope and opened it pulling out a packet of information. You flipped to the first page. 

‘Congratulations!’ It read. 

‘The match we have chosen for you wants to meet you. Once you contact us with your acceptance of their scent, we will arrange for them to meet you and your family with the chaperone of one AOMO agents to facilitate. The two of you will go on a date and get to know each other before deciding whether to move forward. If you do not accept the scent, we will put you back in our database to be matched with someone else.’ 

In the middle of the pages, there was a plastic bag with a white cloth in it. You picked it up and sighed. You doubted you would like the scent. Most alphas were off-putting to you, either way too strong of a scent of they smelled like dishwater. You opened the bag casually and took a whiff. Your inner Omega preened at the musk that erupted from the bag. 

“Oh my…” You inhaled deeply. 

This Alpha…smelled good? He smelled like chocolate and dark roast espresso. There were some hints of fresh baked bread and cinnamon. You caught yourself before you got lost in his scent. You sealed the bag up and took a breath. Maybe, this would be a good experience for you. You scanned through the rest of the information looking over what little they provide about this Alpha. He is a male Alpha, non-American but they did not specify what country. The only other thing they said about him was that his demeanor was shy and that he is military. The instructions said to call the number if you wanted to meet him. You reached for your phone a little too eagerly and dialed the number. A woman’s voice answered.

“Hi, you’ve reached the Alpha Omega Match organization how may I help you?”

“Hi, um I got an Alpha’s scent in the mail, and I want to meet him.” You said awkwardly.

“What’s your name and date of birth?” You told her, nervously. 

“Please hold while I transfer you.” 

The light piano hold music came on, you fidgeted with your sleeve. 

“This is Kara, how may I help you?”

“Oh hi, I got an Alpha’s scent in the mail and I would like to meet him.”

“Alright, let me get your file from reception she’s sending it right now…Ah got it. Oooh ok great I am your agent that will be facilitating this meeting. Your parents will want to meet him yes?”

“Definitely.”

“Ok so, what we will do is you and your parents will meet me at a public space of your choice then. I will bring you to meet the Alpha first, then your parents. We like to keep parent meetings brief as they tend to try and challenge the Alpha. I will have you know, this Alpha is an Apex like your dad. That is one of the reasons we chose you as his match, you have experience with an Apex. Will you be comfortable with all that?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Your head was reeling from all this information. Great, I see you guys are in New York City which is one of my favorite places to visit. Do you have anywhere in mind to meet?” 

“Um, we could do the Highline, there’s food, and it's pretty.” 

“Oh, that’s a great idea let me write it down here. How does September ninth at noon sound to you? A weekday so there are not too many people.” 

Your heart jumped, that’s in two days.

“Uh, sure.” 

“Alright, I will send you a follow-up email regarding our plans all you need to do is confirm. Your match will be notified, and his flight will be booked as soon as we receive confirmation. Do you have any other questions?” 

“No not at the moment.” 

“Ok, don’t hesitate to reach out if you have any concerns. I will see you in a few days.” 

“Bye.” 

You put your phone on your desk and walked out of your room. Your mother was standing a few feet away from your door. When she noticed you, her face lit up.

“So? How was the scent? Are you meeting them?” 

You smiled and nodded “Yup, in two days.” 

She squealed and captured you in a bone-crushing hug.

“I can’t wait! Let’s go tell your father!” She practically ran down the hall. 

You walked to your living room where your otherwise stoic-looking dad was watching TV. 

“Tell us about them, sweetheart.” Your mother said. Your dad turned the volume on the TV down and looked at you expectantly.

“Well, I don’t know much but, I know he’s not American and that he might be shy…He smells good.” 

“That’s important, I hope you wouldn’t pick someone who smells like shit.” Your dad chimed in. 

“He’s also military, and an Apex.” You added quickly. 

Your mother gasped quietly, and your father raised his eyebrows.

“Now that’s intriguing.” Your mom said smiling.

“You already booked a meeting with him?” Your dad asked. You nodded. 

“You should’ve asked me first.” He pinched his nose bridge in annoyance. 

“Well, he’s my match and I wanted to meet him.”

“Apex Alphas are dangerous. I would know.”

“Oh, please honey it’ll be fine.” Your mother ridiculed him.

“It’s my choice, Dad. You guys are the ones who signed up, I finally got a match, so I want to see it through. If it doesn’t work out, then I’ll call it off.”

Your father growled lowly. “Fine.”

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

Your mother insisted to dress you in a cutesy outfit, so you let her have her moment. She dressed you in a dark floral dress that hugged your curves just right. She added dainty jewelry along with your protective collar. You didn’t usually wear it but again, she insisted. She did your hair half up half down. Your dad was waiting by the front door with your mom’s purse in hand. 

The train ride there was silent, your mother looked utterly content while your father was peeved about this whole situation. You arrived at the station and walked to the Highline. You got a text from Kara telling you what she looked like and where she was. She was wearing a dark blue pencil skirt and a white blouse. She stood up as you and your family approached. You stuck your hand out to shake hers.

“Nice to meet you guys, come sit.” She said motioning to the bench she was on. 

Your father stayed standing while you and your mother took a seat next to her. 

“So, there are some things I want to go over with you all and then I’ll talk to you privately and do the official meeting ok?”

“He’s here?” You said in an almost panicked tone.

Kara chuckled. “He is here but I left him to wait somewhere out of sight for now.”

She continued. “His name is König, he was born in Austria. When we did his psyche and personality evaluations, we found that he has neurodivergent tendencies, like you. Our matches with people that have a similar way of communicating have gone well.”

“Wait, neurodivergent?” Your mom chimed in. 

“Yes, your daughter did show signs of some behavioral abnormalities, but she is high functioning.”

“I told you that Mom.” You say giving her a deadpan look. Your mother looked down and gave a small ‘hmm’. Kara continued. 

“He does struggle with social anxiety so please be patient with him. Other than that, he currently lives in Amsterdam, if you choose to go forward that is where you will live.”

Your dad finally spoke “Is Amsterdam safe for people like us?” He asked with a raised eyebrow. 

“Oh yes, Amsterdam has many people from different places and backgrounds. It is one of the most popular immigration and tourist countries, don’t worry.”

“Alright, how about you come with me, and we’ll get your meeting started.”

Kara led you away, you turned and did a small wave to your parents your mom smiled back at you warmly. 

“So, I will be in contact with you the whole time. If you want to go just say the word, I am never going to be more than a couple minutes away. Honestly, I don’t think you’ll have any issues with him.” 

She led you to a restaurant below the high line, it had indoor and outdoor seating. There were a lot of people laughing and drinking. Your heartbeat sped up as you scanned the crowd. The scent of food entered your nose. Everyone’s scent in the dining area mixed into an indescribable concoction. Among the borderline overwhelming smells, you got a hint of something familiar, espresso. 

You scanned the large room trying to pinpoint where it was coming from or if you were just imagining it. I dark figure near the corner of the room caught your eye. He looked way too large for the chair he was sitting in. He was looking down at his hands, dirty blonde hair covered his forehead. He was wearing a black cloth mask along with a form-fitting black shirt. As soon as you walked in he raised his head. You looked away pretending you weren't staring at him. Kara led you straight to his table.

“This is König.” She gestured to him. 

He stood up to shake your hand still keeping himself hunched at the waist to appear smaller. You shook his hand and smiled as you introduced yourself. He nodded and said a small 'hmm' to acknowledge you. 

“Alright, I'll be near. Have fun.” Kara left swiftly.

You sat down in the chair across from him as he did the same. A wave of anxiety came as you did, not knowing how to break the ice with him. You picked up the menu and scanned it.

“Did you order yet?” You ask.

“No, I was waiting for you.”

“Well thank you, what looks good?” 

“The Steak frites look pretty good.” He glued his menu.

“I'm excited for dessert, they have chocolate cheesecake.”

He chuckled and it made your stomach flip.

“You like sweets?” He asked.

“Very much.” You smile at him. 

The waitress came over and asked if you wanted any drinks. König looked at you, waiting for you to order first. 

“I'll try the elderberry gin and tonic.” You said.

 Konig was about to order when the table next to us erupted in loud laughter. He jumped slightly before answering the waitress. 

“I'll get the house Lager.” He said. 

The waitress left to grab the drinks. The adjacent table was still very loud. The group of friends hollering and screaming obviously day drunk. Konig had his head slightly turned away from them in an attempt to lessen the noise. It was subtle but you could tell. You reached into your bag and brought out a pair of foldable headphones. You turned on the noise cancellation and gave them to him. He looked slightly confused. 

“Put them on.” You encourage him. 

When he did the noise muffled and the restaurant was much quieter. You could see the tension in his shoulders ease by the second. His scent sweetened

“Is that better? Can you hear me ok?” 

König swears he could've kissed you right then and there, but he settles on a nod. 

“Thank you, Leibe.” 

“No problem.”

The waitress came by with the drinks and asked if the two of you are ready to order entrees. You ordered the fish and König ordered the Steak. While you waited, you two had a pleasant small talk about his flight and how he is enjoying his visit. He hesitated to take off his mask at first so you focused on your menu to give him the space to be comfortable with you. You glanced up and took in his face. He was beautiful, he had scars on his face that added ruggedness to his chiseled features. König noticed your scent amplify as you gazed at him. His inner alpha pushed him to be closer, to know more about you.

“So, you're in the military?” 

He nods. “I work for a military contractor. Do you work?”

“Sort of, I'm an author so I work from home.”

“That is nice, are you published?” König was secretly very happy he'd get to have you at home all day. 

“Yes, I am. I'm working on my sequel right now. Do you like to read? Or, do you read in German?” 

He chuckled. “I have not had much time to read lately, but I will now.”

“Well, you have to buy my book of course.” You giggled. 

König nearly fell off his chair at the sound. This Omega was everything he wanted. He prayed to whatever god was up there that you felt something with him. By the time the food came you both fell into a comfortable rhythm. He asked about your childhood and hobbies. It was a change of pace, most Alphas are very self-centered, but he is putting effort into getting to know you. The food came out and you both ate. He offered bites of his food for you to try which you happily returned the favor. By the time you finished your food, you hadn't noticed how much time has gone by. Kara texted you to check-in. 

'Hey, so I saw things were going well so I let you guys talk for an hour and a half but, your parents are getting antsy. Are you guys ready to see your parents?' 

“Oh, Kara is asking if we're ready to see my parents.” 

König fiddled with his fork. “I'm ready.” 

He paid the bill and you both left the restaurant. You took in the full size of the Alpha you matched with. He was no less than a giant. He held the door for you but stopped before he walked through. 

“I forgot something, I'll be back.” He walked back into the restaurant. 

Kara walked up to you. “How did it go?” 

“I...really like him...”

“I know, that feeling is scary. I think you guys are a wonderful match.”

König came out holding a small to-go box. He handed it to you, you could tell he was smiling under his mask. 

“What's this?”

Inside the box was a slice of chocolate cheesecake and a fork.

“We forgot to order dessert.” 

You were stunned, you didn't think there could be Alphas that were so thoughtful. Your inner Omega soared, this Alpha was courting you so well. 

“Thank you, König, that's really sweet.” 

“Ah, here they are.” Kara said. 

Your parents walked up to the three of you. Your mother had a surprised but happy look on her face. Your father kept his deadpan face from earlier, not a good sign. 

“Wow, sweetheart you caught a big one!” Your mom chuckled. 

“Parents, this is König.” Kara said. 

Your mother introduced herself and your father as he stood there sizing up the taller Apex. 

“Alright, let's keep things brief parents do you have any questions for König?”

“Well, as long as she likes him I don't.” Your mother said. 

“Can you protect her?” Your dad asked putting some venom behind his words. 

“I would never let anything happen to her sir. You have my word.” König answered without hesitation. 

Your dad nodded and looked at you. “You like him?”

“...Yeah I do.” 

“Alright then, that's all that matters.” 

“Well, I think it's safe to say that the match is made. I will contact you for the next steps. Parents, let's let them say goodbye.” Kara led your parents away.

You turned to König. “Thank you for meeting with me, I had a really good time.” You saw a faint blush at the top of his mask. 

“I also had a good time, liebe.” 

“What does that mean?”

“Ah...it means love.” 

“Oh well...” You motioned for him to come bend down close to you.

When he got close enough you pecked his cheek. 

“I'll see you soon, love.” 

#konig x reader #konig x you #konig cod #konig mw2 #konig fluff #omegaverse #omega reader #alpha konig #cod mwii fanfic #cod mwii #a/b/o fic #tw a/b/o #call of duty #call of duty fic #call of duty mwii #call of duty fanfic #könig #könig x y/n #könig x reader #könig call of duty #könig modern warfare #könig fanfiction

[undercoverpena]

2. lemon twist

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter two of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.4k chapter warnings: [see masterlist for series warnings] meet cute, flirting. fluff. flirting in person and over IG. frankie being a single!dad to a son. frankie gives reader/you a nickname (paint related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. an: thank you so much for all the love on chapter one, and the bonus graphic. I'm so happy to bring you chapter two! also, WE'RE POSTING WEEKLY BABIESSS

prev chapter | frankie's ig

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

A soft, melodic tune pulls you into the land of the living, aware of the tug of it, and the immediate reluctance you have to leave the comfort of your dreams.

Your hand hesitates, reluctant to emerge from under the snug warmth of your sheets before your fingers are tapping and searching, all sluggish with sleep, groping blindly as it crawls against the wooden top of your bedside table. It's only when your fingertips connect with the screen does the world fall into silence.

Nothingness. Stillness. Peace.

The perfect environment for your mind to come to itself as you slowly open your lashes, raising a balled-up fist to rub slumber away, as your gaze meets streams of light rolling in through the breeze-blown curtains.

Then it hits you.

Comes to you in a trickle. Then a flood.

One after the other, memories of last night rush over you. Messages sent and received coming to you, recalling the way you'd tucked a pillow under your chest as your thumbs replied quickly to each incoming DM. Then, you recall the giddiness, how it fluttered through you—how it still remains. Still ever-present and very much thrumming inside of you as you begin to smile.

It remains on your face as you roll out of bed. A brief memory of something he said making you laugh as you wash your face, and another when you brush your teeth.

That feeling stays with you as the sun glistens through your kitchen window. One which adds a glow to the place, making the little smoke stains on the walls and the chips on the kitchen counter seem better, less noticeable—and less irritating.

You smirk as you wrap your hand around your mug—because is it too soon to wish him a good morning? Should you wait for him?

Sighing, rolling your eyes, you land on the dresser you were sprucing up in the place a dining table should be. Your eyes linger on it—teeth picking at the skin on your lip—just as it does so each time you come in this room.

A reminder once again that this place should be a home you’ve been building for years, and not just the last few months. There should be photos on the walls of a relationship playing out alongside family and friends, but those ones placed in between are still just empty.

Like so much of your home.

Taking a sip of your coffee, you drop your stare to the newspaper under the feet of the dresser. The stories were told in black and white splotches over in many shades, dotted around as you tested and checked to see what would make the old, worn thing look like something new. The same thing you’d somehow managed to get delivered through a smile and a sweet, please.

You had been, for so long, undecided on the shade.

Yet, as you gaze upon it now, your imagination begins to weave a vivid portrait. It conjures the image of what it might resemble should you succumb to the shade that's gradually painting itself in imaginary strokes.

Sliding your phone from your pocket, you open up your DMs.

Does butterscotch orange come in a paint type suitable for wood? It does. You at work today? Desperate to see me? Just looking to help someone shift paint they can’t sell. What you looking to paint, Rainy?

Taking another sip of your drink, the warmth kisses your palm similar to the temperature blooming in your cheeks from conversing with him again.

Choosing, instead of words, to snap a photo, knowing it'll be easier, simpler.

Watching it send, the little speech bubble appearing as your mind drifts to the hair above his lip, the facial hair along his jaw—the little patch you’d wanted to graze your thumb over.

You think of the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles; when he’d looked pleased to see you in the paint aisle—something akin to a modern-day meet cute you see on the TV.

You coming in today? If I can… gives me something to do this afternoon.

You bite your lip, considering it—whether it’s too forward to make a flirtatious comment. The two of you skirted around it last night, practically river dancing—not quite stepping over, but not quite retreating either.

I’ll get you it ready at the main desk. My hero, Frank.DIY Don’t push it.

It’s the third visit you’ve made, and while you gloss over the paint chippings on the door, you do notice the circular stains on the floor.

They’re brown, smudged slightly at the edges as though someone has, at one time, attempted to clean (whatever it was) quickly after it had appeared. It’s clear they had failed.

Your eyes scan over it, for a moment forgetting anything and everything.

Just existing in today's scent, which happens to be singed wood—chippings of it practically in the air—as the sound of an electrical saw starts up and begins screeching in some distant corner until you hear your name being called.

And it silences everything.

That voice could pull you from anything, you think.

A crisis, your thoughts, a spiral.

You’d heard his voice plenty all last night as you watched videos of him hanging shelves, answering questions likely sent to him on how best to prime a wooden handrail, and still, you weren't sure you were sick of his voice.

That, and DIY had honestly never sounded so hot.

After the shortest walk to the counter, a brief hello, a grin you wish you could try and smother a touch, you’re leaning on the counter. His eyes focused on you, watching every move you make as though looking anywhere else would be a crime.

“You got a Sharpie there?”

Frowning, you feel you can breathe easier when his eyes drop to the counter—rustling around the till area as you rest your elbow.

“Because I forgot mine and I think I should ask for a signature this time.”

Pausing, he slowly lifts his chin, then eyes. “Funny.”

Shrugging, you grin, watching him ring up the tin—occasionally smirking to himself, before shaking his head as you pay, your phone vibrating on the counter that you continue to ignore.

“You gonna be alright with that?”

Scrunching your nose, you pocket your phone and tilt the can on the counter. “Painting a dresser or carrying this to my car?”

Something sparkles in his eyes, a little shimmer. His mouth opening, likely ready to spill nothing but charm and flirtation again, when another voice cuts through—one gruffer, more tinged in age.

“Francisco, what you d—oh, I see.”

Your smile remains, even as you stare up at the older man—the one with wiry whites and spotted greys you’d seen sitting behind the counter on the day you left to get coffee with Francisco.

It’s notable, how smaller, and thinner the older man is—how he moves like he’s pained by each step until he slumps into a chair and puts on the brightest and biggest of smiles before offering his hand.

“The name’s Harry.”

You look at it, only briefly, flicking your eyes to Frankie who looks like he’s wishing the earth would open up at his feet and swallow him whole. A somewhat twisted, forced blank expression and the mildest of eye rolls follow when your hand slips inside Harry’s, offering your name.

“Thought it was Harold,” Frankie says, rather bitterly.

“You have to call me Harold, but she can call me Harry.”

Smirking, you bite your tongue, rolling your lips as you smooth down your blouse—trying not to make any more eye contact with the man you’d really come to see.

Sliding the paint closer to you, you offer a softer smile, one that is nothing short of kind. “It was lovely to meet you Harry, and I’ll see—“

“—Rainy.”

His voice cut through as the can slid from the counter, the sudden acknowledgement of the weight showing—likely scorched across your face as your arm drags down, shoulder going with it, just about saving it from the ground.

It’s only as you look up, do you find Frankie half over the counter, spotting the key rings and cart tokens rolling around the floor—the stand on its axis from his sudden movement.

So, is Rainy my name now?

You caught that?

I did 😏

I wasn’t thinking.

I have to ask.

Here we go.

Do you always wear the hat or is it a Frank.DIY thing? And is it Frank or Frankie or the newly learnt Francisco?

Whats wrong with my hat? And Frankie and Morales were taken.

Morales your surname? I feel I’ve hit a sore spot.

Yes. And you have but you can make it better.

How?

Meeting me for a very boring lunch this week.

You’re really twisting my arm. Which is mean. You saw the stress my shoulder had to endure today.

I tried to warn you. I’ll let you bring your Pinterest board and your saved Reels.

I fear you just want me for my organisational inspiration.

Can’t help you decide if I’m the man for your project if I don’t know what you’re after.

Fair, I guess I can meet you for a business lunch.

Would you be more into meeting me for lunch if it wasn’t a business lunch?

It depends on what kind of lunch we’re talking about.

I’m very badly trying to ask you out on a date.

Oh, that’s what you’re trying to do.

Unless I’ve read this wrong.

Nope, read it perfectly. I guess I have to confess to you that I really would love to go on a brunch date with you, Francisco.

Lunch date. Let’s not get too romantic. Don’t want you to fall head over heels and visit where I work twice in two days.

Has Harold told you how hilarious you are?

It’s nice—the place he’s chosen.

All washed in bright white, yellow splashes and pastel accents. Plants adorn as much of the walls and ceilings as humanly possible, with guitar-infused music softly playing as the door clicks into place behind you.

It's so nice, in fact, you almost want to live here. To spend an infinite amount of time brushing your thumb over the leaves to see which ones are real and which ones are very good fakes. So pretty that it’s the kind of place that if you weren’t looking for him at a table, you’d snap a photo of it all and send it to a friend.

But, as soon as your eyes land on him, he's the only photo you want to take.

White t-shirt, with a dark shirt thrown over the top, still very much all broad-shouldered and wide chest as he smooths his hand down as he stands.

The hat, one that you'd assumed would be a staple, is all but gone, curls at odd angles as though his fingers have been teasing them—tugging and pulling as the ends slightly frizz—as he moves around the table when you approach.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” he grins, hesitancy thrumming before he must question himself, snaps himself back into place from dragging his eyes up and down you.

Then, he’s moving, gently—enough time to register he’s moving to hug you, and plenty of time to politely decline.

But you don’t.

Allowing his hand to slide over your waist, delicate, very much cautious and all but respectful, at the same time as his breath flutters over your cheek. You almost turn your chin, wishing to all of a sudden curl into it before his lips graze your skin, lashes fluttering before you feel him moving back.

And, fuck, the scent of his aftershave is still washing over you in thick waves. It does its best to slide up your nose and make a home there as heat rushes to your cheeks.

You almost turn, almost catch the last bit of his lips, eyes focused on his, holding, burning them in as you find yourself unable to tear away from it. Two people, swirling, completely lost in only the other—the rest of the world fading to a muted shade, nothing compared to the hue he exhumes in the centre of brightness and pops of colour.

A thing you turn over, unable to stop yourself from stealing stares as he pulls out your chair, before joining you by sitting opposite.

“Thought this was a safe bet, wasn’t sure what kind of lunch person you were.”

“More of a brunch person, honestly.”

He smirks, flicking his eyes up, even if his head is tilted down at the menu.

“It’s very nice—not been here before.”

A brow arched, he smiles—shyer, the beginning of the dimple appearing before he casts his eyes back down.

“What do you recommend, Francisco?”

You don’t miss his snort, the way he sticks his tongue in his cheek as he gives you that look—one that makes you want to keep flirting and testing him all at once. One that makes you clamp your jean-covered thighs together, but secretly hope he notices you doing so.

If he does, he doesn’t show it. Instead, using his index finger to point at various parts of the menu, recommendations falling, rolling—a shimmer in his eyes at certain parts, that makes it easy when someone comes over to ask for your order.

You suspect it’s a favourite, the one you’ve chosen. Something is written into the way he holds your gaze before he stumbles over his words, practically trips, to say his.

It’s only when you’re alone, do you rest your elbow on the table—the coldness of it rising up your skin, rooting you—as you lean your chin on your palm. “So, do I get my Pinterest boards out now or…?”

“Funny.”

You bite your tongue as you smile, staring, admiring. “So, outside of terrorising a man in his own shop, running an Instagram, what does Francisco DIY do?”

Shaking his head, he takes a sip of his water—a bead collecting, remaining on his lower lip for a ridiculously long time, before the tip of his tongue casts it away, and sweeps it from your view.

“My… my friend fights—like MMA. He stopped for a bit, but now he…”

You wait, let it form—let him decide what it is he wants to tell you and when, and how. Sliding your feet out under the table, stretching as you relax into the chair, finding his eyes fixed, concentrated.

“I go to some of his training.”

“Good at DIY and MMA training? Starting to wonder why you’re single, Butterscotch.”

He laughs, soft, rich. “Just… haven’t been looking to date.”

Nodding, you let out a heavy exhale. “I wasn’t either.”

His lips purse, twitch to the side, a smirk half forming somewhere in his cheeks as he leans over, elbow resting on the table, foot catching yours under the table.

Mirroring you entirely as the two of you just stare. And, normally, it would be weird. Odd. But, it doesn’t feel it. If anything, it makes you want to commit each crease from his smiles, each wisp of hair along his jawline that crawls up his cheeks—the patch that could be traced with your thumb, an almost heart shape left, ready to be stamped with a pair of lips.

Your eyes only pull from it when your drinks arrive—when the moment is broken by the real world—as you lean back, let your eyes move to your server, thanking them as you take your drink. And then, the two of you are alone.

“Might change my Instagram name.”

Brows lifting, he pauses his glass close to his lips. “Oh yeah, what to?”

“Rainier Grey—makes me sound elusive.”

Snorting, he shakes his head, sipping on his water before placing the glass down close to your hand. Fingers brushing against it, a thing which makes your eyes flick over your screen.

“I dare you.”

“You dare me?” you say. “How old are you?”

“A man too old for dares.”

You brush your index finger over the back of his fingers, lingering on it, noticing the way they flex as you do as if battling to take your hand in his.

Even if you’re determined to go halves, Frankie’s insistence beats you.

All ‘Don’t argue with me on this, alright?’ said in a tone deeper, more serious than you'd heard to date. And, it's hard not to let heat lick up your spine at the sound.

Even if he’s giving you kind brown eyes as you hold your hands up in defeat.

Smirking, you watch him pay, spotting the picture in his wallet of a boy with a missing-tooth smile almost as big as the man in front of you.

“Alright Morales, but next time it’s my treat.”

“Next time?”

Smirking, you bite your lower lip as you stand, grabbing your things. “Think you’ve earned it.”

Each step to the door feels heavy, a fluttering in your stomach—a grin that can’t be wiped, barely doused when you say goodbye to the people behind the counter.

It grows wider when he gets the door for you, the cooler, outside air creating a vortex of his aftershave all over again (that you hope finds a way to bury itself into your skin) when he opens it.

It’s odd, almost insane—the giddy way you feel as the two of you walk to your car. His fingers are so close to brushing yours, the distance to your little vehicle becoming shorter and shorter as you desperately wish for another few blocks.

Disappointment flares, trying to scratch out the happiness inside your stomach as you pause at the car, trying to smile, but finding it difficult.

Rubbing the back of his head, you watch him roll his lips. “I had a great time.”

Shifting your weight from one foot to the other, you nod, “Me too.”

“Won't have to wait long, you've promised me brunch.”

“Think I said I’d pay. But, if you want brunch, I’m down to blow your mind.”

You realise too late, mouth hanging open, the words hitting—landing in his ear as you watch him process them.

It’s sluggish, almost lagging, the way his face lights up, the way his eyes widen and his smile grows into something close to what you had across the small table—not tinged in any way by the upcoming goodbye.

“Well, if that’s—”

“Shut up,” you say, cutting him off, hand ready to push his arm, but you slide it around his waist.

Face close to his, bodies almost flush.

You watch him swallow, how his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he flicks his gaze from eye to eye.

Licking his lips, he smiles. “Can I kiss you?”

The moment you nod, he’s leaning—lips brushing over yours, fingers tightening on his waist as you move with him, all delicate, smooth, downright velvety as your other hand finds his neck. Feels his pulse against your palm, the warmth of him against your skin, before your lips part, deepening it, letting him have more, as much as he wants—

Then, he moves you. His palm meets your car, guiding you back until your spine meets the side of your vehicle, and he leaves another mark of him—thumb and four fingers—in the grunge the city throws at your car.

The other is the one he leaves pressed against your lips, all invisible, sweet and aching. Leaning in, your fingers find purpose on his neck, skating around, teasing a low curl as you lick into his mouth delicately.

All teasing, caressing, the arm around your waist tightening as the two of you remain almost flush against the car.

And it’s dizzying, all unexpected—but then, so is he.

More so, when you part—nose against nose, eyes opening to find his doing the same.

“I should…”

Your fingers slide, wiping his bottom lip before resting it on his chin, nail stroking against the hair there. “Okay.”

“I’d like to,” he begins, slowly stepping back, allowing cooler air to flow between where your bodies were pressed together, “Not wait to see you again—and, help you. With your project.”

Rolling your lips, you smile. “I’d like that too—both of them.”

“Alright.”

“Okay,” you smile. “Let me know.”

Nodding, he steps back up on the curb, hand wiping across his mouth.

You actually changed your handle.

Told you, I don’t back down from a dare

Guess I owe you one.

Can I cash it in at any moment?

As long as it’s appropriate, yes.

There goes my idea of daring you to strip in the shop and make out with a paint tin.

Have to just dream about that one.

Oh, I will Francisco.

NEXT CHAPTER ->

#frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales #triple frontier x reader #francisco morales fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #francisco catfish morales x reader #catfish morales x reader #pedrostories #jo: dmy

[hidden-poet]

Commander Snow

Summary; Under the advice of Dr Gaul Coriolanus returns back to district 12 where without blinding light of lucy-grey he could see you.

Warnings; dead dove to do not eat, stalking, unrequited love, breeding kink, violence, possessive!Snow, unco/dubco, sexual content, she/her pronouns.

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Chapter 2

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The next day you move yourself and your mother to a friends house. Where you both sleep on the floor in the living room. It costs you half a panem a night but it was still a better living arrangement then laying awake until the yearly hours of the morning wondering if a peacekeeper would knock down your door.

You keep your head down. Going straight from work to the house. It seemed to pay off. Your neighbor had reported that the parcels had stopped after a peacekeeper had noticed it was the community and not the intended taking it.

You don't hear from Commander Snow. There was no summons or arrest order made for you.

It leads you to relax bit. He had probably moved on to another after realizing that you would not sell yourself for a pardon and a weekly box of food. You knew many others would, and you wished them the best of luck with their endeavor with Commander Snow. But your nature pushed away such opportunities. You couldn't even tell him you weren't interested to his face. Fear only played a part in that decision.

It was late now as you walked home from you job. Later then usual as your boss had offered you overtime to clean and organize the cold room. You gladly accepted with the added cost of your stay at your friends house.

Four shiny coins had been placed in your hand before you had even done the job. You couldn't believe she was willing to pay this much for such a simple job. You wondered if it was repayment for all your years of hard work for her.

You were never late, always made sure your jobs were done to a standard of excellence, you even stayed back to help train the new people.

All your hard work was finally being rewarded. You made sure to leave the space the best it had ever been.

The money was at least a month's work.

You hadn't written to your brother in so long due to the cost of the paper and shipping fees but now with your extra cash you could reach out.

You make the journey to the stationary store, getting in just before close and go around the back of the building. Using the flat wall as a writing pad.

Your brother had gone to district 8 after influenza swept through killing half their work force. They had asked for volunteers to relocate. Many young men offered. The pay was higher in district 8 as the Capital had a great need for the fabrics and manufacture that it produced. Your brother was picked being effortlessly strong and healthy.

The day he left was the worst day of your life. You miss him terribly, only communicating through letters which were expensive and took ages to find its way to its destination.

You tell him how much you miss him, and worry about him over at district 8. That your mother is well, and prays for him every night before bed. You thank him for the money he sends when he can. Telling him of your own good fortune with the coins, and how he was to spend his half on a cold drink if he could get one, and a night out on the town.

Your pen stills as your thoughts turn to Commander Snow. Should you tell your brother of the strange officer. He was always protective. Would he try and come back to district 12 for you. would they even let him.

You decide not to. It would only worry him, and in his worry he would make rash decisions. You would not be responisble for his harm.

Instead you reiterate how much you miss him, and warn him to write back soon.

You drop two of the coins and the pencil back into the envelope, sealing it shut and stuffing it in your pocket. It was too late to ship it off. You would have to wait until tomorrow.

You felt scared walking back to the house with the money as if people could sense it in your pocket.

You remind yourself your being silly as you walk through the road dividing the streets. There was no one else out at this time. Only you, and you were nearly to the safety of the house.

There was no street lamps in the districts. The only light coming from the houses you pass. You try to remain in the light but sway slightly into the shadows as you reach the steps of your accommodation.

You scream as you feel hands upon your skin. One going around your mouth to quiet you and the other pulling you back against the house.

"Sh sh, Its just me. It's just me. You're safe".

You feel your kness tremble as you pin the voice to a face. Commander snow stood before you, using his body to press you up against the side of the house. His chest pushed against your shoulders, his leg pushed between yours and melded to the wall behind. He kept his left hand on your right shoulder to keep you still and only removed his right hand from your mouth when you went mute. Who would you scream for that could do anything any way.

With his body pressed against yours in such a tight manner, he had free use of his hands.

You weren't getting out from under him, even you realized that. You looked for guns or knife on him but found nothing in the light the moon and surrounding houses offered. He didn't wear his official Capital issued Commander uniform. Instead he dressed down in high waisted black pants, and a long sleeved cotton shirt. He still wore his dog tags and army boots.

'So this is were you've been hiding, hm?". He ran his knuckles along your cheek bone, and you shuddered from his touch.

"No, Sir".

"yes, Sir. I left boxes at your house like a fool".

You could tell he was upset with you.

"It's fine. You'll be back there tomorrow to take the food in. Did you go through my first box i sent?"

You nod your head and a smile appears on his lips.

'What did you have first?". He pushes back a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"My mother had a apple" You torn it from her after her first bite.

"i asked what you had first". He pressed his body harder against you.

"We haven't touched the box otherwise, Sir. We can give it back to you. We can compensate for the veggies and the fru-"

He was not happy with your answer, cutting you off.

"Ungrateful brat".

"Sir, we never asked you for it and we don't have money to pay for it"

"You're welcome" his pointer runs along your nose, "I can't have my partner in crime going hungry. Now can I".

You shiver from the familiar way of speaking. You did not want the Commander of district 12 to have a nic-name for you.

"I ought to go inside. They are waiting for me".

You try and move away, thinking he would release you. His cover would be blown if they take to looking for you.

He does not, choosing to place his hands around your neck. Not showcasing his great strength but resting in warning. His thumbs press gently into your throat.

"i think they can wait a few more minutes. Don't you?".

You nod as much as his hold would allow you to. You felt as if he was all around you. With his body wedging you flat against the wall, you felt as if you were sharing the same breath.

"you're ok" He repeats, "i am not going to hurt you".

"Perhaps it would put me at ease if you stepped back a bit, sir"

He shakes his head, "You have a habit of running away".

"You have a habit of appearing out of no where".

You can see him grin under the dim light. That was intentional, He always wanted you to feel as if he was always watching and could turn up at any moment.

"Can you make me some more of those oat bars?"

"Ye-yes" you stutter.

"Do you have the ingredients?"

"yes" you repeat.

"Good. Bring them to my office the day after next".

"Yes, Sir. Can I go now?"

"I haven't seen you for nearly two weeks and you're so quick to run away?"

"'Sir, please I Have to get inside". away from you.

"Why were you so late getting home?" he ignored your plea completely.

His thumbs circles on your throat.

"I had to work back" you admit.

"And then?". He already knew that wasn't the full story so you confess you brought some paper and took some time to write a letter.

"A letter?" he asks, "A letter to who?".

"My brother. He went to district 8 for work".

You gasp as he releases you. Giving you a least two feet of space.

"Lets see it" he demands.

With shaky hands you pull the crumpled letter from your pocket. He grabs it before you could hold it out to him.

He rips it open, and pours the two silver coins into his hand, tossing them around.

"My coins".

"My coins" you state, taking a step forward, "For my over time"

Surely he wouldn't find it appealing to take your coins from you. He was commander Snow he didn't need any money in district 12. He could just take. There would be no one to stop him.

"And where do you think your boss got the coins to give you for your over time. Where's the rest of them".

It was a set up. Not hard work and luck that gave you a few extra coins. But an odd infatuation from the officer.

You pull the rest from your pocket showing them to him.

He scoffs, "i gave her eight , she gives you four. I expected her to take two, but four. Does your district know no limits to their greed".

He mentally leaves his sweet girl out of the picture. She had received four and was willingly giving 2 away. He was sure you would also give your mother one and spend the rest wisely. Tigress always brought him new clothes with her overtime. Using old curtains to fashion her own.

You hold out your hand for him to take the coins back.

Much like his tigress, You were giving what you had to him.

"If I had known" you start.

"The point was that you didn't know". He snaps.

You still hold out your hand for him to retrieve the coins.

"Keep them. You earnt them".

You pocket the change. You had really earnt them.

He balls your brothers coins in his fist and moves out more into the light to read your letter. You were so glad you decided to leave Commander Snow out of it.

he reads fast, flipping the page and going on to the next in a matter of seconds.

He nods satisfied that it was in fact a letter to your brother and not a lost lover, before he folds the letter back up and places the coins back in the envelop.

"I'll mail it for you" he offers but you protest at the thought.

'I'd prefer to do it, Commander".

"You don't trust me? After everything we've been through, and the secrets we share".

"No-I-" you were thankful he interrupted you again, unsure of your own sentence.

"We're friends, right?"

You nod having the feeling it wasn't truly a question.

"Friends do things for each other. Let me to this for you".

"It's too big of an ask" you try again. You reach for the letter but he pulls it back.

"You could", a step forward had you going back, " do something for me to ease your conscious".

He moves towards you again until you were once again pressed up against the wall.

"What?" you breathe.

His hand cups your face, and his body braces itself against yours before his lushes lips capture yours.

The kiss is deep and hard, Barely moving off before coming back for more. His tongue licks at the bottom of your lip, sucking gently when you don't let him in.

He repositions his head to a tilt, keeping his top lip pressed against your bottom as he does. He comes back with full force, your head knocking softly against the wall from the force.

"that" another small kiss presses against your lips. A quick peck to your sealed lips.

You turn your head in case of another one, and his hand on the side of your face follows.

He digs into his pocket, pulling out two coins and pressing them into your hand.

"Take the coins. Buy yourself a new dress"

"I don't want-"

He sh's you.

"take the coins, buy the dress and stop avoiding me".

"Thursday" you remind him, the day after next.

"Yes, Thursday. Don't forget. Tomorrow if you can".

The house across the track opens its door and an middle aged women appears throwing a bucket of dirty water over the terrace. Coriolanus shrinks into the shadows until she return back inside.

"Go inside" He demands, stepping back. You rush away from him not looking back as you run into the house. But you feel his stare upon your back.

The next morning two peacekeepers knocked on the door to drive you and your mother back to your house, leaving you with a large basket of food.

'What have you done?" Your mother asks you behind closed doors.

"I am not sure" you reply honestly.

-----------

You make the worst batch of oat meal bars you've ever made and deliver them to the compound.

You were almost sure you were going to be shot as you approached the gate but they must have been expecting you, opening the gate as you neared.

You had tried to just give the basket to the Peacekeeper but he demanded that you go inside with him. You follow him through the large estate.

Peacekeepers old and new were everywhere. Some without their uniform giving them an almost human look. They eyed you as you passed.

They thinned as you reached a stunning white building made of stone. Everything else was structured out of metal so you knew that the building only housed the most important people.

It wasn't any less busy as people ran about you with stacks of paper. It was loud inside the walls. People talking to each other as they walked, some yelling down a telephone. None of them even glance at you or the peacekeeper you followed.

He leads you to a large oak door, twice the length of you, and he knocks three times.

"Come in" you hear Commander Snow call.

The peacekeeper opens the door but makes no attempt to enter the threshold. You do, and the door is immediately closed behind you.

"You couldn't make it yesterday?" he asked crossing his desk to join you in the center. You hold your basket like a protective shield.

It kept you distanced as places his hands on your shoulders.

'i had to go to work" You explain and you push the basket to his chest, attempting to rid his hands from you.

He does take the basket with a small hmm before returning to his desk. He places the basket down and digs for a oat bar. As he bites down you could tell he could taste your lack of effort.

Still he eats it without complaint as he pours coffee from a tray into two mugs. He motions for you to sit down but you were itching to go.

"I should go" you state.

"Sit" his mouth was full with the oat bar.

You do sit but don't drink the coffee offered. You notice that he had better looking biscuits on his tray.

He leans against the desk next to you and takes another big bite of the bar. His eyes wonder down to you where you sat anxious twisting your ring.

"What's that?" he points with the oat bar down.

It was only a small metal ring. Thin pieces of twisted metal in a circle. So small most people never even noticed it.

Your brother had given it to you on your nineteenth birthday as a congratulations for not being selected for the hunger games.

He obviously knew it was a ring, and you obviously knew he was really asking who gave you that.

"A gift from my brother before he left". You stop twisting it to draw attention off it but it was too late.

He finished his oat bar, dusting his hands clean from the crumbs before standing up to full height.

"Give it to me".

You shake your head no. It was the last thing you had of him.

Still Coriolanus held his hand out expecting.

"It's very dear to me, Sir".

"I'll take very good care of it".

You look up at him with pleading eyes, his softens but he doesn't relent.

"You can give it to me or I can take it", he warns.

You almost cry as you twist it off your pointer finger and place it in his palm.

He flips it around his pinky finger, and wedges both hands between his knees.

"There's sugar there if you want it".

You stand up angry.

"I don't want it. I have to get to work".

You attempt to storm off but he catches you with a firm hold on your upper arm and a hand wrapped around the side of your face.

Under his strong fingers you remember your anger could get you killed.

"Don't be upset with me" he pleads.

"I ain't upset" you remark although you eyes brim with tears, "They dock my pay half if i am even a minute late. I have to go".

"I'll walk you to the gate". You wait for him to take the lead.

You find the walk back less busy as people avoid the Commanding officer. He twists the ring in the same anxious manner that you did. He wanted to say something. Offer something in return but could think of nothing that would compensate.

It's too late by the time the journey ends. He pulls open the gate and the Peacekeepers facing forward don't turn.

You could feel his hand on your back and it shoots you forward. He remains at the gate watching you flea from him.

No one asks you why you're crying at work. So long as you are doing your tasks they don't care.

----------

On Saturdays you have a stall in the markets selling your baked goods. Your friend helps you when she has the day off for a portion of the profits.

Today it was sunny. Hot but with a nice cool breeze. People flooded through the stalls. Your cakes sold great, even better with the fresher ingredients from Coriolanus box.

You could sell the oat bars with chocolate on top for nearly double. Chocolate was rare in the districts. Most people had never even tasted it before.

Coriolanus was doing his rounds letting a younger officer with great potential shadow him for the day. He freezes when he saw you.

He had walked these markets two or three times before, Had you always been there? He must have walked past you and your stall and never even noticed. Fate has a mysterious way of working. He was now certain that it pushed you into the compound due to his ignorance while on duty.

You looked beautiful in a white top and tight blue jeans. You had your hair covered in a bandana again and wore your normal work boots.

He put his helmet back on in case you looked over and saw him. He was sure you were still upset about Thursday, and he didn't want to spoil your good mood.

The young solider followed suit. Hiding from sight without question. He might survive district 12.

You laughed with your friend who sat on a milk crate to eat her apple. At her feet lay a brown sack filled food. She quickly closed it to avoid being robbed but Coriolanus had already seen it.

He tightened his hold on his rifle. No doubt it had come from you. from Coriolanus to be more correct. He agreed to feed you, even if that meant feeding your mother too, but he did not agree to feed your friends.

Your next box would be smaller.

A school group blocks his view of you as they pass, and Coriolanus refocus to his surroundings. He sees a young boy, no more then 6, dilly dallying behind the rest of the group. He goes up to each stall looking at what they had to offer before slowly making his way to his class.

He was going to be left behind at his current rate.

"you see the young boy in the red shirt?'' Coriolanus asks his soilder.

"Yes, Sir". The boy flexes his shoulders as if the child poses a threat.

''When he reaches that cake stand, I want you to push him over".

He pats the boys shoulder urging him to go. He looked confused but followed command going over to a nearby stall to yours and pretending to look at something.

The young boy skips two stalls to come directly over to yours. His eyes go round at the sight of the chocolate oat bar.

Your smile gets wipped off as the boy is knocked to the ground. You glare instead at the Peacekeeper who made a lap back to Coriolanus.

The boy screams and crys at his scrapped knee. Coriolanus ducks behind a large pillar as you round your table to pick him up.

You were talking to him, soothing him as you rocked side to side. He reacted positively wrapping his little arms around your neck.

Coriolanus bangs his head against the piler. That was the reaction he was hopping for. To see you in a nurturing state as you consoled the boy.

"is that what you wanted sir?" his solider stood in front of him, and he pushes the boy out of the way. He had blocked the view of you carrying the child and setting him on your table.

You reach behind the crying boy and offer him a chocolate oat bar. His crying almost immediately stops.

"yes. Good. Go back to base and have the rest of the afternoon off solider".

The solider is ecstatic at the news, and with a "thank you, sir" he was pushing himself back through the crowd.

You were talking but he wasn't sure if it was to the boy or to your friend. He wished he knew what you were saying.

You had taken off your bandana and wet it with you water bottle to wipe the blood off his knee.

It was so natural for you, he thought, to care for others. Once you got comfortable enough, how would you care for him, he wondered.

Would you baby him as you babied this child if he got hurt.

he shuffles back realsing that he had itched forwarrd as you picked up the child again. You gave him another bar to eat. He was certain you were talking to your friend this time, looking squarely at her before you took off after the school.

The primary school was located at top of a large hill. Away from the noise and violence of the district.

The young boy clung to you as you walked. His chocolate hands getting over your white top as he licked the icing off.

Coriolanus followed you out of the markets. he waits until you were away from the crowd before picking up his pace to you.

The young boy catches Coriolanus' eye and begins to struggle in your grip, pointing at him. The big scary peacekeeper was coming your way.

You tighten your hold and spin to face him.

You looked shocked to see him.

"Commander Snow, sir"

A formal greeting to someone who had you pinned to the side of a wall four night ago.

He smiles at you. Trying to distract you so he can move closer to you.

"I saw" he says, "and I've come to help you return the lost boy"

"I'll be fine on my own, sir"

"I insist. You never know who lurking around. My job to keep you safe".

Coriolanus was not speaking from his station as commander.

"Do you want me to carry him?" Coriolanus offered looking at the large hill.

"No, no" the boy begs, but Coriolanus reaches for him anyway.

You turn away, curling your body around the child.

"No. It's ok. I've got him".

Coriolanus was sure you were going to struggle getting up the hill with the extra weight. If the boy was only a sack of potatoes, he would have just yanked it from your grip. But you looked so good with a child on your hip.

You could always swap half way if you wanted.

"It's ok, darlin'" you rub soothing circles on the boys back, making Coriolanus jealous, "we're gonna get you back to class".

We're. we. us. The partners in crime.

He bucks his chest out with confidence.

You begin your journey up the hill, and Coriolanus was right. Not even half way up and you had to shift the child around to your front to distribute the weight. Coriolanus goes to take him but you reject his offer once again.

"He's alright" you insist.

The child rests his head on your chest, his eyes staring at Coriolanus as if to say ha ha.

He was about to suggest you perhaps just let the boy walk, but you beat him through the silence.

"Are you following me?"

"i was showing a new candidate the patrol routes. I just happened to have seen you with the boy, and wanted to help you get him back to class as per my duty".

Close enough to the truth.

"And lydia's? how did you know i was staying there?"

His unclips his helmet and attaches it to his rifle.

"I asked around". Threated your neighbors.

You fall into silence again and this time it was Coriolanus who brecks it,

"Are you going to share everything I give you with others?"

You scoff at his words, ''saw me with the child, hey?'".

He grabs your arm to turn you causing the boy to wail again.

'You might find I am a lot more closed fisted if I can't be certain it's actually going to you".

You tear free and bounce the boy in your arms.

"shhh baby. It's all ok'' You smooth his hair back, cradling him to you.

You step away from the scary peacekeeper as you and the boy talk. You soon compliance him back to a settled temperament, and Coriolanus steps back over to you.

He doesn't mention the sharing again. He would wait for the journey back. He found himself childishly annoyed when your attention went all to the small boy.

You huff as the boy gets heavier in your arms but Coriolanus doesn't offer to take him again. He'll let you struggle.

"Why do you feed people you don't know?" the boy sucks on the remainder of the oat bar, slopper getting all over your shoulder.

You don't answer. He calks it up to the physical labor.

"The prisoners, the boy" he pushes. He leaves himself out of the list. You both feed each other because you innately knew each other. You were partners in crime and partners in crime look after one another.

"Who's to say I don't know em".

"I assure you after I was done if the prisoners knew you they would have given you up. They didn't know".

He half regretted his sentence seeing you tense up. But he was sure he left a impression of a strong, powerful man. You just needed to get over your guilt first to see it.

"We look after each other in District 12. It may not seem like it to you but these are good people here".

You looked after people here, he wasn't so sure that they had the same loyalty back.

He had seen enough flips and crumbles to know that for the right price they would feed you to him.

He wanted to tell you this. To set you straight, and show that he was the only one looking out for you. But he knew the information would upset you and he had already done that once this week. He would save it for another time.

You struggle up the hill, puffing out gratefully as the small school house came into view. A large tree marked the boundary, upholding a wire fence around the small metal huts.

You turn to Coriolanus, "I think the gun might scare them".

He take his large rifle off his shoulder and leans it against the tree. Your face still read of your displeasure.

"it might just be best if i go on with him".

He looks to you and then back to the school. He could still see you if he stayed underneath the shade of the tree.

'' I'll wait for you here then''. The gun is slung over his shoulder and he takes its place against the tree.

The boy watches Coriolanus over your shoulder as you walk with him.

You call out to the teacher frantically recounting her children.

"hey, I think you're missing one!". You place the small boy on the ground and wave goodbye to him as he runs over to his teacher, complaints of his sore knee spilling from his mouth.

Turning back to Coriolanus, your smile disappears and your pace that was slow with the child picked up to a near sprint.

He straightened up as you came near but you walked straight past him without looking.

"Do you want children?" He matches your pace

"No" you spat, "never".

Maybe if you met the right man, he wanted to say. A man who could protect them.

But he swallowed the words. This situation was new to him too. He didn't want to make promises he would later not plan to keep.

"You should reconsider" he says instead, "I think you would make a good mother".

You were naturally a very warm and loving person. While others walked around the crying boy you picked him up and nurtured him.

Coriolanus remembered a time in the war he had gone out alone in search of food. He found only hungry dogs, who chased him through the ruined city.

"Help!" he cried, looking back at the fast approaching beasts.

His foot catches a large pothole in the ground and he is thrown upon his face. Sure he was going to get eaten he calls out for Tigress but it is a large man that appears at name.

He bangs the lids of trash cans together and shouts angrily at the dogs, scaring them off.

A savior, he thought. But dropping the lids and turning to Coriolanus, the man didn't cradle the boy to his chest as you had but reached for his axe under his coat and swung it down.

He had managed to roll out of its path and get to his feet just in time.

The man was slower than the dogs, overcome with starvation. Coriolanus could disappear between the buildings. He remembered as he hid in rubble while waiting for the man to pass, how sacred he was.

It was one of the core memories that haunted him to this day.

oh how he wished that someone like you had found him instead, but he wasn't sure people could be like that anymore. He wasn't sure how through all the misery and pain you could remain so soft. He wanted to sink his teeth into your flesh and have a taste.

"What would be the point. Loving someone only to watch them get killed in the hunger games".

You feet come down hard, channeling the anger you couldn't express.

"The chances are small. There are over 300 families in district 12".

He just wanted to hear you say you would like children. The picture of you big and round while rocking a boy the same age as the lost child seemed to be getting hazer as you resisted.

"You should ask Milly May, or Harrison Flint if their chances seemed small".

This years tributes to the Hunger Games. They both died the first day. Milly May the first hour.

"Motherhood looks good on you. Natural" he tries again.

You stop in your tracks, turning to face him.

“I can’t give you what you want. No matter how much you try and sweet talk me or buy me. It won’t be given”.

It didn't matter, was the first thought that appeared in his head.

"I don't want anything from you. In fact, it's been me that's been giving. Food. Protection. All to have it spat back in my face".

Your eyes float down the hill. The beginning of Town was still a little while away.

"I understand, sir. Perhaps your efforts would be appreciated more else where".

It was a gentle let down but resulted in a harsh strike.

His hand came down upon your cheek, almost knocking you to the ground. You stumble off balance, looking up at him.

The anger on his face morphs into disappointment. Before he could reach out for you, you take off running down the hill.

You might be beaten for your rejection.

You feel his hand brush against your shoulder as he tries to grab you but you avoid it.

Pushing yourself down the hill as fast as you could go. But it wasn't fast enough.

He tackles you to the ground, crawling on top of you and securing both your wrists with one hand.

"I am sorry, I am sorry" he holds the side of the face he stuck, smoothing it over, "I shouldn't have done that".

You trash under him, screaming.

His soft hand retracts from your face to take off the rifle from his shoulder, he sets it down next to you.

His dog tags had made their way from under his shirt and now dangle over your face. You can see he had added your ring to the chain.

''Let me see" his hand returns to your jaw, forcing it to the ground on the other side so he could inspect your cheek, "only a little bruise".

He lets your head go back to its normal position, and you're left looking in his eyes.

"What I do, I do for you. Okay? not your friends, and not for anyone else. Do you understand?".

His hand reaches up going to your palm and enclosing your curled hand with his. He held himself up with his hold on your wrists, and with the other now pressed over yours, all his weight bore down on you.

The weight upon your hands hurt.

"Yes, Sir".

"If I find out you've been sharing again. I'll hang them for thievery".

You give two little nods.

"I understand, Sir. It won't happen again. Please, let me get up".

He hops off you. choosing to crouch at your feet as you sit up. He notices your shoe lace untied and begins to pull the laces tight and loop the knot back up.

You sit there stunned as he picks up his gun and rises. Offering you a hand you take it and he pulls you up.

The journey down the hill begins again. His hand reaches out to keep you in pace with him when he feels you propelling down.

You reach the bottom in a comfortable silence and stop at the foot of the hill.

"We can't be seen going back together. It will put a target on my back".

You were right. The district scum might harm you if they thought it would get back at Coriolanus.

He nods in understanding.

"You go ahead. I'll follow". He gestures forward.

You go quickly back to your stall. He tries to keep focus on you but your short stature gets momentarily lost in the crowd.

You reach your stall and go straight back behind it. Your friend is standing next to you talking in a worried hush tone when Coriolanus reaches the table.

You don't look at him as he takes one of the chocolate oat bars and continues walking back to the compound.

It tasted dry in his mouth, he didn't like that you were still baking for others, you were going to have to shut down your stall.

-----------

Coriolanus stood upon the platform at the hanging tree, having it checked for bombs twice.

The gate was swung open for the public, and every available peacekeeper was present and armed.

The convicted all formed a line. Being hung one by one for dramatic effect. The families of the dead being forced to stand at the front of the audience so they could grab their sons/brothers/ cousins shoes as Peacekeepers dropped him and restrung the rope.

Coriolanus forbid traditional burial for traitors of the country. Families would have to settle for burying the shoes of their deceased love one while their bodies are cremated and sent to Dr Gaul's office as decoration.

"Phineas Hightower. Sentenced to death for consorting with rebels and making plans of an attack. Disturbing the peace of the district".

Coriolanus read into a microphone that fed through the town.

A young man approaches. 30 at the most. He didn't look scared as the others did. No tears or pleas of innocence. Coriolanus almost respected him.

The man kicks off his shoes as he steps upon the box, and a loud cry of grief overtook the space. The mockingjays echoed it out.

Peacekeepers were on the old women, presumably his mother, fast. Focus must be kept on the fate of the traitor, and not on the cries of mothers.

The old women reaches for her sons shoes but is shoved before she could reach them. She pleas with the officers taking her to the back, but they are like statues as they manhandle her away.

Coriolanus could now see tears spring in the eyes of the young man. A befitting end for a capital traitor.

He gives the order to continue the show. They ready the man for execution.

More commotion is heard as the crowd readjusts to let someone through. He looks to see you making your way through the crowd to the front.

Had you come to see him. Watch him as he took life. Does the power fill your belly with excitement to know that the same hands that caressed you now commanded death of another.

You wanted to make yourself known to him. To let him know he had a friend in the crowd. You had dressed pretty for him back in your clothes you wore for your vaccination. A nod to your secret bond.

You left the bandana off, letting your loose hair fall around your shoulders.

But no. You don't come to his side of the stage. You rush to the soon to be dead man.

You grab the shoes, just as the box is kicked. You squeeze your eyes shut and bring them to your chest.

Coriolanus steps back to the guards behind him.

He nods in your direction, "Take that girl to my study. Make sure she doesn't leave".

Coriolanus hears the body drop, and the Guard move to catch you.

You hadn't moved since the rope stretched. You stood there eyes closed and shoes to your chest until you felt hands upon you telling you to move.

You look back at Coriolanus on the stage to see him looking down at you.

The rage in your eyes matches his.

---------

Coriolanus makes a trip to the bathroom to wash his face and make himself more presentable. He takes off his official hat, and unbuttons the top of his jacket.

You had been waiting for him for nearly an hour and a half. Having to wait for the rest of the hangings to finish, the crowd to go home, the peacekeepers to sweep the area and the final report from all leaders to Coriolanus before he dismisses them for the night.

He untucks his chain from his neck and holds your ring in his hand.

You were still his girl. Just unshaped still.

Placing the hat under his arm he makes his way to you in his study. The Peacekeeper stood guard at the door.

"You can leave" he tells the man, before entering.

He sees you shoot up from the chair as he closes the door behind him.

You had been crying. He could see the tear lines still wet on your face.

"What were you doing at the hanging?". He storms over to you. He was giving you an opportunity to satisfy him.

I was there to see you but the women upset me. He wanted you to say.

"Leave me alone. i have to get these shoes home" You try and push past him but he shoves you down into the chair. Resting his weight upon the arms of it as he leaves over you.

"I've told you once, associating with rebels will get you hanged".

"his mother won't have a body to burry. She will have his shoes".

It was the first time you hadn't called him Sir in a conversation.

He wanted to slap you until you did.

But his hands were busy taking the shoes from you.

"Now she won't have shoes either. She can burry a memory".

You push the chair back to escape him. He could tell you wanted to hit him. Your fists balled and your stance was ready to swing.

"Come here" he demanded. It gnawed at him that you were upset with him. He was only doing his job.

"Give me the shoes" you demanded.

He drops the shoes to the ground.

"come and get them" he taunts.

You seem hesitant but you do, bending down at his feet to retrieve the shoes.

He grabs your jaw once your knee height and you struggle against him.

"Tell me I am taking good care of you" He pushes down as you try and get up. "Tell me how handsome I am".

You weren't truly mad at him, only overcome with emotion, he assured himself. But he too felt heavy after hanging days.

he had wanted to rest in your arms, similar to the boy with the scraped knee. But you offered him no comfort.

This time you do strike him across the face. He shoves you away and you scramble far, taking one shoe with you.

He begins to laugh, would every comfort be denied to him. No, not you.

"Don't you ever touch me again. You stay away from me from now on".

He was going to make you regret ever saying those words to him. You were going to give him every drop of kindness you held even if he had to wring it from your body. he deserved it after everything he had been through. You were his reward for it all, and by god he was going to have it.

But not now. Now he opened the door for your freedom, watching you run out.

He would make sure you came crawling back. Telling him you wanted his great care again. Telling him how handsome he was.

He would have you all. How much pain you wanted to go through first was entirely up to you.

#coriolanus snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus x reader #dark!coriolanus snow #dead dove do not eat #tom blyth #president snow #hunger games #Commander snow

[space-mango-company]

Stranger | Chapter 2

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

TW: Descriptions of Violence, Mentions of Cannibalism

Tags: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Smut (still not in this chapter lmao), No use of y/n, Original Characters, Canon what canon

Word Count: 2k

A/N: So... this was posted prematurely a couple hours ago. This is the actual finished longer version. If you don't know what I'm talking about, thank god. Sorry this took so long, lmao

Just letting you guys know that my knowledge of the lore is purely based off of the movies and the Dune wiki rabbit hole I fell into right after watching part two. I also took a few liberties with the canon here.

I'm super open to constructive criticism, or any criticism at all (feel free to absolutely roast me). Like I mentioned, I've never written fanfic before so I'd love to hear your thoughts!

The evening of your first day in Giedi Prime was celebrated with a banquet where you were introduced to the most important people on the planet. You've heard many stories of the ruthlessness and brutality of the Harkonnens, hence surprised by the courtly welcome during the dinner. Although you did your best to politely ignore the Baron who floated at the head of the table being fed by servants.

You were sat beside his nephew who, despite your mother's education, has evaded your insight. You couldn't quite get a read on him.

Feyd-Rautha whispers to you amid the buzzing conversations of the banquet hall, "are you enjoying the food, little hawk?"

You shoot him a questioning look.

"I like your hairpin," he sneers.

You resist from reaching to touch the Atreides symbol affixed in your hair.

"We don't see such ornaments often here." He quietly laughs in his devilish way, only too amused with himself.

Ah, you realize. He means to torment you.

"Seems early for pet names," you say, picking at your plate, "we've only just met."

"Oh, and yet we are to be wed in less than a week's time," his raspy voice rings in your ear, "I should like to be familiar with my future wife, Lady Atreides."

The marriage pact had been signed when you were only a little girl. Inheriting your father's inclinations, you swore you would uphold your duty, undeterred by the gruesome and abhorrent stories about the Harkonnens—because you knew that centuries of conflict could end within a generation with this union. You were a willing bride.

And yet.

You give him a smile that, to those not privy to your conversation, would seem genuine, "You know nothing of me, na-Baron."

"I should like to learn," you doubt his sincerity but care not enough to discern it. He takes a smug bite of a forkful of meat, "perhaps tomorrow, you shall learn something of me."

The following morning Iassa helps you into another black gown, this time with a veil in anticipation of the black sun.

"Is it not dangerous for Feyd-Rautha to wager his life for a show?" you question.

"The na-Baron is a skilled fighter, my lady. He will emerge victorious," Iassa is straight-faced as she drapes the veil over you.

"Yes, I do not doubt it, but given he is the Baron's heir. Does it not seem a touch irresponsible to even risk it at all."

Not that you actually cared for his life, you just expected that the Harkonnens would be concerned with the preservation of their house regardless of their brutality. You recall your grandfather who got himself killed fighting bulls for sport.

"The na-Baron will be fighting war prisoners. They will be drugged beforehand. It is perfectly safe, my lady."

"Oh." You couldn't decide if you were disappointed or not, "I see."

Iassa seemed intent on dropping the subject, so you do.

You stand before a mirror and take a look at yourself. It is impossible not to be reminded of your mother. She was never one for vanity, but you like to think there was a part of her that always enjoyed the elegant dresses she and you 'had' to wear. You allow yourself a somber smile behind your veil.

"You look beautiful, my lady," Iassa curtsies.

"Thank you," you look at her bowed figure, gray robes made more dull by the stark black choker on her neck. You were sure she was at least 2 standard years younger than you are and it had only been a few months since you came of age. You wondered if she liked pretty dresses too.

Before you can ask her, there is a knock at your door.

The house steward, Jaromir, clears his throat when Iassa opens it for you, "The na-Baron requests your presence before he enters the arena."

Heavy doors open for you in one of the chambers beneath the arena. You are greeted by the sight of a half-dressed Feyd-Rautha being helped into his armor by a servant.

"Lady Atreides," he looks you up and down, "I hope you slept well."

You bow your head in acknowledgment.

"Your knives, master," a large man whom you assume to be the bladesmith presents Feyd-Rautha with two daggers.

The young Harkonnen takes one and caresses the blade with his fingers.

"I've come to wish the brave na-Baron well before his fight in the arena," you say in false earnestness.

He smiles at your inflation of his ego.

"Though I must say, I am relieved it is all for show. I would not like to see my groom wounded before we are wed."

"For show?" Feyd-Rautha tilts his head and you see his arrogant facade show the slightest crack.

"Yes, I've heard your opponents will be drugged will they not?" your voice dripping with innocence, "to ensure your safety, of course."

His grip on the dagger tightens, "and where did you hear this exactly?"

You sense the awkwardness and tension in the servants. The one who had helped don Feyd-Rautha's armor has quietly retreated to the far side of the chamber. There is a subtle tremble in the hands of one holding a plate of towels. You finally notice the three women piled upon a raised platform glaring at you.

"Just voices around the fortress," you shrug.

A deep breath recovers Feyd-Rautha's smug expression. "Call for the warden," he orders one of the guards by the door, "tell him to prepare new prisoners. Sober ones."

"My lord, you need not endanger yourself," you feign worry.

"Nonsense." The na-Baron walks closer to tower over you, "My lady bride deserves to see my true prowess."

He sees through your challenge, but you don't care. Seeing his self-satisfied smirk wiped from his face for even just a second was worth it.

"Besides," he turns away from you to inspect the second knife, "my darlings enjoy meat that's fought for its life."

The three women sneer at this and you see their sharp teeth as they hiss amongst themselves.

You've heard of Feyd-Rautha's concubines long before you arrived on Giedi Prime. Tales of their taste for human flesh were one of the things that tested your resolve in fulfilling the marriage pact. You didn't mind that the na-Baron would keep other women. It would result in less of his attentions on yourself, you figured. It was their perverse appetite that nauseated you.

A look of revulsion hides behind your veil which you sense they would be all too happy to rip to shreds.

"I will see you in the stands, little hawk," Feyd-Rautha whispers to you as he waves for a guard to escort you out.

You do your best to drown out the noise of what seemed to be a countless audience that came to see the na-Baron fight. You could understand now why they uphold such brutal traditions. The people are so excited for it.

On the other side of the arena, you sense Vladimir Harkonnen watching you from the Baron's Box that towered over the whole arena. The blazing sun only helps you avoid looking in his direction. You were sat at a viewing box, still for nobility and separated from the masses, but much lower and closer to the sands of the arena. Jaromir had told you that you were to 'give the na-Baron your favor'.

Before long, the master of ceremonies announces Feyd-Rautha's entrance in Giedi Prime Speech. They are celebrating his betrothal to you and the union of Harkonnen and Atreides, you translate in your head. You wonder if the people care for the politics of the Great Houses. They seemed no less excited to cheer at your name despite the centuries-old blood feud.

Massive doors open as the na-Baron walks into the arena. His arms outstretched holding his knives like an extension of his limbs. He riles up the crowd as he walks towards the Baron's Box and kneels to his uncle. He then rises and walks toward you, smirking under the stark light of the black sun.

You may not fear earning the Harkonnens' contempt, but you were the Duke of Caladan's daughter and you knew that the favor of the people was invaluable.

You stand and walk to the edge of the viewing box. The glowing smile you reveal as you lift your veil draws cheers from the crowd that rival what Feyd-Rautha received. You produce a pure white handkerchief from your dress pocket and make a show of kissing it and waving the cloth at the buzzing crowd. You throw it off the edge and it floats toward the na-Baron who had moved both daggers to one hand to catch it. He looks up at you with what you think could be the seeds of respect and tucks the cloth into the tight armband around his right bicep.

He turns back to the audience and raises his knives in a war cry. The crowd explodes in guttural cheers and applause. Feyd-Rautha takes his position in the middle of the arena as his first opponent is released into the white sands.

You've heard of the Harkonnen heir's aptitude in single combat. It's time to see if the stories were true or if it was just another part of their menacing facade.

You were handed a pair of spyglasses to observe with. The two fighters approach each other, the prisoner wielding a knife of his own. Feyd-Rautha holds a taunting stance. The prisoner was sober, you were sure, but even without the spyglasses, you could see he was weak. You surmised the Harkonnen cells weren't very hospitable. He attempts a swipe but the na-Baron parries with ease. Another and the na-Baron dodges. Zooming in, you could see Feyd-Rautha's twisted amusement. He was toying with the poor man—and the people loved it.

The crowds cheered at the clashing of metal, thundering when the na-Baron drew first blood by slashig his opponent's arm. It wasn't long before Feyd-Rautha's dagger had impaled the prisoner's heart. There was no pause before a second prisoner was brought out to meet a similar fate.

Feyd-Rautha stood unwounded, seething with exhilaration. He enjoyed this; the thrill of killing. He basked in the roar of the crowd. You had never ended a life before, but some deep part of you could almost understand how he felt in that moment.

A third prisoner enters the arena. He looked older than the first two, bearded and taller. He reminded you of Gurney Halleck, the Atreides Warmaster. This man certainly wasn't at his prime but you could tell he would not go down as easily as the first two.

The warrior holds his blade out in a firm fighting stance, refusing to make the first move. You notice picadors in black suits have entered the arena, circling the na-Baron and his opponent. Feyd-Rautha lunges at the prisoner and a quick series of parries from both sides occur. You see the finesse in the na-Baron's movement. He recognizes his opponent's skill and he is taking this one seriously. You were not sure what you expected of the Harkonnen's fighting style but Feyd-Rautha was vicious but precise. The crowd gasps when the prisoner disarms one of the na-Baron's knives. The warrior manages to get a grip on Feyd-Rautha's armed hand and aims to pierce the na-Baron's neck with his blade. The na-Baron struggled against his hold and the arid air was thick with anticipation.

You were unsure what outcome you desired as you stared through your spyglass. Perhaps this warrior kills your betrothed. What then? Would you really be able to go back to Caladan's windy cliffs again? Return to the arms of your mother as if it were all a bad dream? You wonder if when Feyd-Rautha becomes baron, and you his baroness, could you convince him to let you see your family.

The warrior's blade was dangerously close to your future husband's throat when one of the picadors lashes at the warrior. The na-Baron growls at the offending picador as the warrior is weakened. Feyd-Rautha pushes him off and allows him a moment to recover, taunting him to try again. Blades clash once more and after a sequence of quick ferocious movements, Feyd-Rautha's blade slashes the warrior's throat. Blood made black by the infrared of the sun splatters onto the na-Baron. He licks the darkness that landed on his lips. Heaving, he takes your bloodied handkerchief off his armband and raises it to you and the roaring crowd.

You did not even realize you were already standing, breathless at the sight.

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

Taglist: @torchbearerkyle @austinswhitewolf @dreamlandcreations @emeraldsgirl @strawberryfieldsforevermore

#feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #dune #dune part two #baron harkonnen #baron vladimir harkonnen #house harkonnen #house atreides #giedi prime #austin butler #space-mango-company #fic: stranger

[moralesmilesanhour]

teamwork (makes the dream work...?) pt. 2

summary: miles is not exactly a productive work partner

wc: ~800

A/N: not much plot movement here, but a tiny bit of exposition sort of. Miles will calm down in the following chapters...maybe 🥴

prev. next

"Oh Miles? He's in some of my AP classes. Honor student," Your friend's voice filtered through your phone speakers while on the FaceTime call. She popped a potato chip in her mouth as she sat in bed and sniffled, at home with a nasty cold.

"I've heard his name before. I think his dad died, that true?"

"Yeah, a couple years ago. Say he used to be really sweet, and now he don't talk no more."

"That's sad," you remark. "Maybe that's why I'm only seeing him now."

"You actually saw him in class?!?"

Your friend's face was the picture of disbelief, eyes wide as saucers as if this was a rare event.

"Yeah, he's my partner for the week cuz you decided to go and get yo ass sick!" you explained, dramatically jabbing a finger at your phone screen.

"It's not my fault that kid from AP Chem sneezed on me, damn!"

"He's really smart, but his attitude fucking sucks. He draws good, though," you think out loud.

“It’s just a week, sis, give it four more days, you’ll be fine.”

“You’d better hope so, for your sake.”

-

The following afternoon saw you asking around, trying to piece together a picture of this kid that everyone simultaneously knew and didn’t know. By the time lunchtime ended and Ms. Jones’ calculus class rolled around, you had heard the following:

‘Almost flunked out of school…on purpose’.

‘Did graffiti on the school walls once.’

‘Freakishly quiet’.

‘Secretly joined a gang’.

That last bit made your stomach turn a little as you approached your new temporary seat. Sure enough, Miles was already slouched at his desk, twirling that same pen between his fingers like a drumstick. You didn’t bother to say ‘hi’ this time. He didn’t bother to look up, either.

Miles didn’t say a word during the lecture portion of class, not even to answer questions. Would explain why you’d hardly noticed him until this week.

As the heavy-set math teacher scanned the classroom, she frequently craned her neck and made brief eye contact with Miles, but never cold-called him.

Her skin was a chestnut shade, and she kept her dark hair pinned back in a tight, slick bun. The way she pressed her lips together as she moved on suggested that they’d been through this before, and she'd be sorely disappointed.

When her lecture ended, Miles suddenly stood to his full height.

You weren’t able to tell by the way he sat, but the boy was quite lanky. Even with his awkwardly-broad shoulders slumped, he likely was a half a head taller than you. Ms. Jones stopped her slow pacing around the classroom and sighed.

“Miles, sweetie, what did I say yesterday?”

Miles looked up at the ceiling and sighed in exasperation before plopping back down into his chair. He raised his hand as if it pained him to do so.

“Yes, Mr. Morales?”

“May I please use the restroom?”

A few snickers could be heard erupting around the classroom, and the woman rolled her eyes. An innocent smile was plastered over Miles’ face, revealing two deep dimples in his cheeks. If the smile had actually reached his eyes, you would’ve thought he was cute.

“Go ahead,” Jones relented.

The boy dropped the smile and noisily pushed his chair aside; As he shot back up from his seat and strolled past your desk towards the door, Jones narrowed her eyes at him.

“Hold it. Sir, where are your glasses?”

Miles stopped in his tracks, groaning loudly.

“Oh my god, I don’t need glasses to go potty, Ms. Jones. I can aim, I promise.”

“Make sure you put them on as soon as you get back, your mother told me to remind you. Go,” Jones said, waving her hand dismissively.

“Uh-huh, thank you, ma’am!” The boy was already in the hallway, letting the door slam behind him.

Today's partner work was just a packet of long equations to simplify, so you were only mildly irritated that Miles never seemed to return from his impromptu bathroom trip until the last fifteen minutes of class.

You looked up as he sauntered over to his desk, hands in his pockets.

“Where were you? Class is almost over,” you demanded.

Miles ignored you and sat down, picking up his pen to work at a long string of equations at lightning speed.

Suddenly, you reached over and snapped your fingers in front of him. The boy looked up with his lips curled into a grimace.

"What's good witchu? You got through the work, didn't you?" Miles hissed in a low whisper to avoid catching Ms. Jones' attention.

You frowned deeply. "And what if I didn't? I'd be struggling while you were off running around the damn school-"

"I needed time to myself," he interrupted. "To think."

" 'Think' about what?"

"Personal shit," Miles resumed his problem-solving. "Any more questions, officer?"

The school bell rang, pulling from you a sigh of relief that you wouldn't have to see him again for another 24 hours.

#miles morales #earth 42 miles morales #earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles morales x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #moralesanhour

[house-of-lovin]

legally binded - 5

Jenna Ortega x F!Reader

masterlist | series mast. | prev. part | next part

Chapter 5: Strobe Lights and a Strong Drink

Summary: After getting caught in some hot waters with the press, you are forced into an unexpected agreement with America's sweetheart, Jenna Ortega to save your career.

Warnings/Tags: dual!pov, famous!reader, actress!reader, mentions of substances, intoxication, mature language, real people. (do not read if any of these make you uncomfortable)

(this is all fiction!)

Note: Oof, what do you guys think? Thanks for reading and all the support guys!

Word Count: 6k+

Shit.

She kissed you.

She didn’t know why she kissed you.

Her fingers trembled even when you were gone minutes later. She brought the shaky fingers up to touch her burning lips, ignoring her sisters’ amused yet quizzical stares.

This whole week with you at her parents house has been nothing short of blissful. It was almost like domestic how you two acted around her family. Unspoken touches and longing stares.

She doesn’t know what to make of it.

All she knows is when she turned to wish you luck, her stomach churned at how delicately you were looking at her.

But before Jenna can think on it some more, her sisters are pulling her away to find a good spot for your performance; Mia, asking passersby which stage people had flocked to.

You didn’t tell her who you were performing with so they didn’t know where to go. Jenna had forgotten to ask.

“Do you know what time she’s going on stage?” Aliyah asks, holding the actress's hand firmly.

“No…” Jenna replied.

“Okay, do you at least know which stage?” Mia asked.

“No.”

“Do you guys ever talk or do you just share silent looks all day?” Mia sighs, fishing for her phone.

Jenna blushes. “I’ll text Link and ask.”

—

She’s buzzing with excitement but she’s impatient. It’s been two hours since you left her.

Jenna keeps sending texts asking when you are coming out to perform but of course, all you do is tease.

You: Stop being impatient, you’ll see soon ;)

Jenna isn’t sure if her suspicions are true but people around her are talking about a surprise guest for Metro Boomin’s set but she doesn’t remember having heard if you had worked with the producer before.

This could be the song you were working tirelessly over this last week.

“Do you think it’s Y/N?” Aliyah asks, peeking her head past the others in the crowd.

They can practically feel the excitement as the music pumps loudly through the gigantic stage.

“I’m not sure.” Jenna shouts, “This is a good set though!”

“Yeah!” Her sister agreed, pulling her to dance. 

The cheers get louder when the song finishes, setting up to transition to the next one; the crowd is amped with anticipation. 

“Everyone, give it up for The Weeknd!”

The crowd explodes as he comes out in an all-white jumpsuit and blacked-out sunglasses.

“Give it up  for Metro Boomin, Coachella!” He praises as he comes out; talking to the crowd as they cheer audibly.

Jenna feels disappointed that it wasn’t you but is still excited when she sees the familiar face. Her sister Mia is practically jumping in her spot, he's one of her favourite artists.

“Jen, come on!” Mia laughs, tugging her closer to the stage, smiling largely.

She fights the urge to pull out her phone and text you again.

10 minutes go by of The Weeknd performing and Jenna’s enjoying herself; forgetting about you for a moment as she dances with her sisters; taking pictures and videos; allowing the music to consume her.

The Weeknd performs well and the crowd is evidently loving him.

Eventually, the music quiets down and the singer starts speaking.

“Can we play some new shit for a second, Coachella?” The crowd screams, excited to be the first to hear a new song. “Alright… then make some noise for Y/N motherfucking L/N.”

A synthesized deep reverberating beat drops and strobe lights flash blindingly in Jenna's eyes making her squint as you ascend through a cloud of thick fog from backstage.

Her jaw drops.

When Jenna gets clear sight of you, she knew you were a sight to behold. "Wow..."

The outfit you are wearing hung off your figure so well and so tight that Jenna wouldn’t be surprised if she was drooling. The heeled boots paired with it give you height accentuating the rest of your clothes well. You changed your hair and makeup and suddenly she understands why everyone she has spoken to has been enamoured by you.

“Woah…” Aliyah trails off, in awe and then turns to her sister with an amused smirk watching her sister's comically enormous round eyes as she continued to stare at you.

You looked like a superstar on that stage.

At first, she thought Link called you that as a joke but as she watched you walk to centre stage, she understood why.

You start singing and Jenna thinks she can pass away now. She can barely hear you as the crowd starts freaking out when seeing you. A sea of phones are immediately pulled out to capture the rare moment of you on stage. Jenna feels like the ground is shaking as the crowd gets ridiculously noisier the longer you sang the unfamiliar words along with the melody.

The beat drops again and Jenna watches as you bounce around on stage with the largest smile plastered on your face as you expertly performed with the other singer.

That's when Jenna felt it.

She knew it then.

Fuck.

She’s so screwed.

—

“Thank you so much for having me Coachella! It's been such a blast!” The crowd screamed thunderously prompting you to painfully clutch your in-ears when you hear just how deafening the audience was now that the backing track wasn't playing.

“Oh shit,” You wince.

You feel loved as you look at the vast and far ocean of blinding lights. This feeling never gets old. It’s been a while since you’ve been on stage; taking a step back to focus on film. When your good friend asked you to do a surprise performance, there was no way you were going to say no.

“You killed it!” Abel laughs in your ear, planting a kiss on your cheek.

“Thanks!” You say bashfully, leaning into the embrace.

“Everyone, give it up for the King of Coachella and Metro Boomin!” You praise, pulling away to yell into the mic, smiling wide and large. 

For a hopeful moment, you scan the crowd, trying to find Jenna knowing she’s watching you somewhere.

Somehow, you spot her past the masses immediately. 

Like a moth to a flame, you find her through the faceless crowd. Jenna had her hands cupped around her mouth as she cheered for you, trying to peek her head above the others.  She drops her hands, landing back on the balls of her feet when you make eye contact and just smiled at you proudly.

As if time stops; you and her just stare at each other for a couple of seconds.

Longer than usual.

Longer than necessary for this PR relationship.

You have no doubts that videos of you and Jenna’s stare-off will be trending by tonight when you see people swinging their arms to pan between you and the other actress when they see your line of sight.

Briefly, you hear mutterings of people in the front row saying Jenna’s name and pointing; getting louder.

You blink, realizing where you were and wave goodbye one last time, steadily springing off stage — itching to get all the eyes off of you.

“That was great Y/N!” Link smiles, hugging you immediately. “Did you hear how loud the crowd was? Holy shit!”

“Thanks, Link… and yeah that was crazy.” You laughed appreciatively, the high of performing and having tens of thousands of eyes on you was starting its comedown. “Come on, I’m dying to get these boots off… no matter how pretty they are.”

“Don’t let your stylist hear that. She was excited about the boots — talked my ear off for 10 minutes.” He rolled his eyes, leading you to a tent backstage.

You follow him, ducking and nodding your head in appreciation as people cheer and compliment your performance.

“Yeah, she does that.” You chuckle.

“So what was that?” He asks lowly.

“What?”

“That kiss.” He looks at you sternly.

“Oh. I’m not sure. She just pulled me in.” You answer honestly, not really having the words to describe it yet.

You’ve been pulled left and right as you got ready for the performance.

“Can you sound anymore like a guy? Give me details how was it?” He leans in.

“I—I don’t know.”

“What do you mean I don’t know. She kissed you! That has to mean something! Maybe you two can finally say goodbye to all that weird silent pining you guys have going on.” He wrinkled his nose in memory of how often he caught the two of you staring into each other’s eyes or swinging hands as you walked in tandem.

The two of you are the very definition of oblivious.

“It’s not pining.”

“Call it whatever you want.”

You sigh, “I don’t really know what it means, Link. It’s just a kiss, it might not mean anything to her..”

“To her?” He takes special note.

You roll your eyes, swinging open the flap of the tent. “Yes for her.”

“What did it mean for you, then?” He turns his back to face the wall as you rapidly change.

“Why do you care so much? When was the last time you were on a date?” You huff; tugging the leather boots off your feet. “Did you try that dating app I told you about? I promise it won’t be like last time.”

“Don’t change the subject.” He growled deeply.

You’re no longer allowed to set him up on dates after that experience.

Huffing, you give in, “I’m not really sure what it meant to me, yet. It all happened so fast but… I don’t think I hated it.”

“Mhm.” You were like a toddler learning to walk. He had to slowly coax you as you learn to do things; like talk about your feelings. “So, what do you wanna do?”

“Do? Nothing, why would I do something?”

“God, you’re dense.”

“Dude!” You throw your hands up.

He rolls his eyes, “Yes, you should do something! Did you not see the way she was looking at you?” He asks confused. 

How did you not see how you two looked at each other?

“I–I, maybe. But I don’t wanna read into it.” You admit. 

“That look from her seemed like it meant something, I don’t know.”

“What? No way.” You wave off, despite your heart darting wildly in your chest at his words.

You don't want to get your hopes up.

“Dude, I’m this close to knocking you out. I don’t care who you are.” You hear his loud puff echo in the room. “Why is the thought of being with Jenna so bad to you? You guys are practically acting like you’re together – you’ve been sharing a bed with the girl when there’s a whole mansion here in the Valley for you. You even started doing chores around her parent’s house Y/N... In all my years of knowing you, you have never even turned on the dishwasher at home. Be honest with yourself for once, really.”

“How do you know about the chores?” You peek your head out the divider, sending him a confused look.

“Jenna… who else. We talk, you know.” He says, back still facing you.

“What do you guys talk about?” 

“None of your concern.”

You rolled your eyes, sighing out long and tired.

“We’re both so busy all the time, there’s no way it’ll work. Do you remember the last person I tried to date? I don’t want that with Jenna. ” Link shudders; he‘s had his fair share of close calls with filing a restraining order… given your history of flings and relationships.

“They’re all either psycho or it just ends up crashing in flames. I don’t want to have to show up at an award show and awkwardly smile at Jenna, pretending like I don’t know her. Or have a song or movie made about me.. again. I knew this PR stunt was bad news.” You shove your head in the t-shirt, feeling much more comfortable in the soft, loose fabric.

“Okay, you don't mean that. Don’t you think you’re –I don’t know–overthinking this a little? Also, I don’t see Jenna as the songwriting type. Maybe an essay about you?”

“Are you done?” You scoffed at the timing of his joke, stepping out from the wall divider. “Also, I think what I said was very reasonable.”

“I’m just saying, maybe she’s different.”

“I doubt it.” Much like your lyrics; you were just as much a pessimist.

But you know you’re lying — you felt instantly just how different she is from anyone you’ve ever met before.

You just didn’t know it could develop into… this.

Even through thousands of people, you managed to find her from that stage. 

Jenna has an omnipotent pull on you that was getting harder to evade.

Something tells you the harder you try to yank away, the tighter the leash will start to feel.

You hated feeling suffocated.

“Y/N.” He says disapprovingly. “You don’t mean that.”

“I don’t know, maybe I do.” You try to appear indifferent; looking away from your best friend to find the matching sweater to your pants.

“Hey. I’m serious. Don’t shut yourself out from the potential of something good just because you’re a little scared.”

“That’s not what I’m doing, Link.” You grow annoyed.

When were you going to get some time for yourself? Without someone questioning you or bombarding you?

"Really? Cause it sounds to me like you're a little scared. I mean, think about it. How different would it be if you two actually dated? Everyone already thinks you're together and you've already been travelling apart for work. Not to mention... you two already act like a couple. It's crazy that you don't see it."

"What?" You look at him bewildered. "No, we don't. It's all for the cameras."

"Dude, it's me. Who are you trying to bullshit? Even Enrique won't stop talking about you two. And you know that guy’s around Jenna all the time.”

You scoff, "That—that doesn't mean anything."

"Please, " He holds a hand up, "I can't handle this today, I'm clocking out. Jenna can deal with you now." Then turns and walks out of the tent.

You huff, not wanting to think about his words.

You could play the fool and say that you have no idea what he's talking about. But you see the longing glances from the other actress.

You pretended not to notice her stares when you were around her family this past week. When her dad was complaining about his car not starting so you offered to look at it for him; a chance for you to get to know her dad a little more (if people asked you, his constant silence still kinda scared you). Or when you were the only one who could get her niece to calm down after fussing that one afternoon. Or when you played basketball with her brother Markus – trying desperately not to trash-talk and cuss out the young, competitive teen.

You get the point, she was always watching and you’re not dumb. You definitely see it; the little hairs on the back of your neck always stand when she’s near. Like your own version of Spidey-senses but with… Jenna. But that doesn't mean anything? 

The two of you are at her parent’s house – she’s bound to be around.

Maybe she was drunk? You did order some cocktails throughout the night and she’d begged you for a couple of sips — even offering to hold it for you when you saw some friendly faces amidst the crowd. You may have indulged her. Hey, she's drank before, you know she can handle her alcohol.

Yeah, that has to be it right? Just the high of the crowd and the buzz of a strong drink.

You certainly felt like you needed one if you had to face Jenna soon.

Walking over to the bottle of tequila gifted to you by the producer’s team, you pop the top off and grab a shot glass. You pour yourself a generous shot and immediately down it, wincing at the burn it leaves in your throat.

You pour another one and another one before you feel like you've had enough — you're taking too long in here.

"Hey, there you are!" Jenna's voice exclaimed behind you after the sound of a tarp being pulled open.

You turn, surprised, still holding the shot glass and bottle of Don Julio 1942.

She perks a brow up, amused. "Celebrating alone?"

"We live alone—"

"We die alone. Orson Welles. Somebody to Love." She cuts in.

"Snob." You laugh then turned and grabbed another glass. "Want one? I won't tell."

"Yes." Jenna grinned and walked closer. "Why does no one ever talk about the second part of that quote?"

"There's a second part?" You wrinkled your nose in confusion.

"Yeah, only through our love and friendship can we create the illusion for the moment that we're not alone." Jenna quotes, grabbing the shot you held out for her.

"Oh... that's sweet I guess." You place the bottle down, turning to her; ignoring the added meaning behind her words.

"Yeah, it's one of my favourite quotes." Jenna clinks glasses with you.

"Salud." You raise the glass, tap the table and then take the shot heartily.

"You're a dork." Jenna coughs out, wincing at the burn.

"It's customary, darling." You reply teasingly, pulling out a posh English accent.

Jenna laughs a little too hard at your joke, crinkling her nose. "Is that the Little Women accent?"

You blink, taken aback. "You've seen my movie?"

Jenna reddens. "Yeah..." coughing, "like five times. It got you an Oscar nomination."

"That's cute." You grin, heart practically leaping out of your chest.

"I thought I was supposed to find you?" You remembered.

“You were taking too long… and there’s a steady crowd waiting to congratulate you outside but... I wanted to be the first one.” She looks down, kicking the carpet with her booted toe. 

You grinned, “You liked it?”

She glanced up, laughing, “Liked it? You were amazing! The crowd was so loud, I definitely lost some of my hearing… I think my Mia and Aliyah might even want you as a sister instead.”

You laugh, shrugging. “Thank you, Jenna… but nah, I think the one they got is pretty cool too. They’re lucky to have you.”

She smiles up at you. And like earlier, you find yourself getting lost in her soft, kind eyes. You two have come a long way since that first meeting…

A part of you thinks, how it feels nice to have someone waiting for you backstage after a performance. Someone that doesn't work for you.

"Hey, so um— are we gonna talk about it?" You gain the courage to ask. Usually, you'd beat around the bush, hating confrontation. You're probably the first person to take a hike at the sign of an inconvenience. But this is Jenna.

Your Jenna.

She had kissed you.

Somethings you can brush off and forget, but not this. You find yourself not wanting to do so, so easily either. Something tells you that it's a memory that'll stick with you for a while, if not forever.

You could probably get Alzheimer's and you still won't forget you and Jenna under the strobe lights and rip-roaring crowd.

A tiny part of you held onto the hope that she’d say she meant it but you would never say that out loud.

"Yeah, I guess we should. Um— did you hate it?" She bit her lip in question.

"Did you?" You cowardly cop-out.

She rolls her eyes, smiling a bit but taking the bait and stepping closer to you. "Not really no..."

"Me too." You blurted and Jenna looks pleased.

"Good." Stepping closer. "Do you think, we can, I don’t know maybe do it again?" She whispers, looking up at you.

"Maybe..." You breathe out; arms stiff by your sides as she leans into your personal space.

"Maybe?" She cocks a coy brow, smirking. "You gonna make me work for it?"

She runs her fingers up your hands to your arm to your shoulder before resting them on your neck. A trail of goosebumps litters your skin.

You bit your lip, not missing how her eyes followed your movements. "I—uh,"

"What? Did I finally make you speechless?" She scrapes her nails against the back of your neck as her other hand rested on your stomach anchoring herself. "If I knew all it had to take was kissing you to shut you up I would've done it a long ti—"

You cut her gloating off, pushing your lips firmly to hers; tightly gripping her sheer button-down shirt. You pray a thousand blessings come to whoever bought this shirt for her because the way her skin burned through the fabric had you clutching her tighter than ever.

She groans against the sudden pressure but melts against you; pulling you down by the hand on your neck; kissing you back. Jenna tilts her head to the side, allowing you to slip your tongue past her lips and into her mouth.

When you traced your hand down her back relishing the way she shuddered under the touch — you made sure to stop and toy with the hook of her bra, just teasing before shamelessly moving your hand on her waist; lower than what should be considered modest for a second kiss.

But you don't care because Jenna is in your arms, kissing you back with the same intensity and for the first time, you feel all the tension between you and her fizzle away.

Like two teenagers who finally managed to find some time alone —she's slotting her leg in between yours making you flinch back.

"Mhmm. Jen not here." You mumble against her lips.

"Sorry, sorry. I got carried away." She blinks, unwrapping herself from you.

You laugh, tugging her closer. "I didn't say move."

Jenna gulps at your tone, feeling flushed. "Okay..."

"We should definitely talk about this though, right?" You sighed, leaning your head on top of hers. Jenna leans into your chest.

"Yeah probably. But this is nice too." She wraps her arms around your waist. She decides she likes the way the curves of your waist made a perfect mould for her arms to rest on.

She looks up, chin on your chest to link eyes. "Maybe it can wait until we're home? My sisters are still waiting outside..."

You look down at her, gently smiling. "Yeah, at home."

Your heart skips a beat.

"Okay." She pulls herself away; linking hands to tug you outside.

But she stops walking just before she can open the flap, promptly spinning on her toes and pulling you down to kiss you again. You only hear her satisfied sighs fanning against your skin.

Then she's pulling away too fast for your liking. "Now we can go."

You can't help but grin ear to ear at that.

—

“The Weeknd, really? I guessed him.” She grumbles from beside you as you two walk back to her sisters.

"I told you, he's a friend. We’re working on some of the soundtrack for his new HBO show." You chuckle, swinging your arm over her shoulder to link hands and tugging her close; wanting to feel closer to the young actress.

"The Idol?" She perks up, having heard about the show.

"Mhmm. Just the music." You hum and Jenna wants to laugh at how nonchalant you sound. How did you have time to do music, act and play your part in this PR relationship? "I composed the arrangement of the song."

"What? That's so cool, I actually want to get into composing." She mentions excitedly.

"You're gonna have to come by the studio sometime then, maybe I can show you a couple of things." You grin, eyes tinged with interest.

"Maybe... but don't change the subject, I guessed The Weeknd." She squeezes your hand, mulling over the idea.

"What do you want? A reward?" You chuckle.

"Yes." She mutters.

"Okay. What would you like? I have a lot to offer?" You say teasingly as you approach her sisters.

But Jenna doesn’t say anything, just takes her free hand and wraps it around your neck to pull you down; connecting your lips in another sensible kiss. You couldn’t fight the sigh that leaves your nose when you feel her tilt her head to the side; deepening the kiss.

Multiple bright flashes breaks your moment.

"Mia! Aliyah!" Jenna glares as they keep smiling.

"What?" Mia asks pretending to sound confused, "Oh shit, these are kinda cute, Jenna you might want this."

Jenna grumbles under her breath, embarrassed and tugged you along to stand a fair distance away from her sisters and closer to the stage.

"Send me those!" You manage to yell before she pulls you out of earshot.

"You two are a match made in heaven." She stands in front of you, leaning against your chest with your arms wrapped around her waist— like before you were pulled away from her to perform.

"Is that jealousy I hear, Ortega? I already told you, there's only one that I care enough to impress. You place your head over her shoulder tugging her close.

Not even the humid desert heat can keep you from wanting to feel closer to the other actress. Jenna seems to be just as comfortable as you so you don't pull away.

"Mhmm. Just checking." She traces a finger over the arm steadily wrapped around her midsection; sending shivers down your spine.

—

“A wedding dress?” You perk up, scanning yourself in the mirror. The Prada x Thom Browne custom gown made just for you made you feel like a Disney princess; hints of gothic design and golden tassels hung haphazardly on the train of dress as it’s still in its work-in-progress stage.

“Mhmm.” Your stylist mumbles, watching the fabric flow down your figure. “With its own flair, this is just the base of the dress. We’ll be adding more details to match the theme.”

“It’s stunning but why this?” You ask, twirling on the podium making the seamstress and tailor scowl beside you.

“To match Jenna, darling, what else for?” She says like you’re stupid — which in hindsight, you might be. But hey, it’s been a long week.

"What is she wearing?" You couldn't help but ask.

She snorts an obnoxious laugh, "Nice try sweetie. You'll see what she wears on the day. Thom would also kill me.”

"I thought you worked for me." You grumbled.

“Not for the Met — I don’t. I’ve seen that tiny girl’s wrath. I’ll deal with you over her.”

After Coachella weekend, there was no 'going home' and 'talking about it' with Jenna because you were already being pulled by Link in the other direction by the end of the night. Telling you about how you need to drive back to L.A. to pack for New York, once again.

Sometimes you felt like you were living most of your life on planes.

This meant you had to leave Jenna (and your dog with her) behind in California as you prepare for the annual fashion gala — where this year, you were tasked with the honour of co-hosting among a panel of other stars and Anna Wintour.

Jenna made sure to send you daily updates on their daily walks. You might have saved a couple of those photos… but as of the last few days, you hadn’t heard from the other actress.

"Now go, Link wants you back in your hotel room to go over your duties for the Met." She holds your hand as you step off the podium. The rest of your fashion team scattered off to their own respective corners; taking notes.

"Thank you, darling. It's always a pleasure to work with you." You say appreciatively.

"The pleasure is all mine." She kisses both of your cheeks before ushering you to a room to change.

—

“Hey, you gotta see this.” Link says as soon as you walk into your hotel suite.

“What is it now?” You ask, sliding in to see what he was looking at.

‘Y/N caught with cocaine? Rumours of a possible arrest. Will this be the end of this young star’s career?’

“How did they find out about the coke?” You grabbed the phone out of his hands, re-reading the article for a possible source.

“Not sure. But Liv has her suspicions. She said she’s looking into it and not to worry. Lawyers are saying they don’t have basis to charge you. Some people don’t believe it but you know, people love to stir shit up.” He watches your creased forward. “I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“How can I not worry about it? They’re drug allegations, lawyers are involved. Jake said that part wouldn’t get out to the press because they weren’t mine. He promised.” You give the phone back to him and start pacing the room.

“Hey, hey. Jake and Liv are handling it and Sarah is already in talks of tracking down whoever the possible source is.”

“Sarah… Sarah’s involved.” You mutter.

“Yeah? This kinda affects Jenna too.” He shrugs.

“Fuck. Fuck Jenna knows…” Your eyes widen in realization. Is this why she hasn’t reached out?

The two of you haven’t had time to talk these last few days. She’s been busy with her family and her Dior event while you’ve been on the East Coast prepping for the MET.

Does she know?

“I’m not sure. But if Sarah is involved. Good chances are… Jenna’s heard about it ‘cause she’s been warned.”

“Fuck.” You groan into your hands.

“Does Jenna not know?” Link asks confused.

“I don’t know what she knows, to be honest. I think she might have heard about the coke in the beginning but Jake and Liv made sure to keep that part under wraps. Only my drunken disorderly got out to the press. I–I’m not sure if Jenna ever knew it was true…”

“Y/N, it’s okay. It’s Jenna. I’m sure she’ll understand once you two get a chance to talk.” He places his hand on your shoulder.

“I don’t want to talk about that night, Jake. Especially not with her. It’s not exactly my best moment…”

“Well… I feel like she’s gonna have questions, regardless.” He walks off to the kitchen.

You head to your room to nap away the bad news you just got.

Met Gala duties can wait.

—

“You'll look great beside Jenna."

“Where is she, Enrique?” You tugged on the base of the dress.

“In her room.” He plainly answers, brushing down any wrinkles.

“Can I see her? I need to talk to her.”

His eyes flicker up to you, stopping his fretting. You don’t miss the slight judgment in his eyes. “No can do. She’s still getting ready.”

“I thought we were walking the carpet together?"

“You are. But you’ll see her when she’s done getting ready.”

“Are you mad at me or something?” You couldn’t help but ask, making your makeup artist stop for a moment.

He flicks a brow up, “It’s not my place to be mad at you. You should talk to Jenna.”

“What does that mean?” You furrow your brows.

“Like I said, just talk to her. She’ll be ready in a bit. Meet us on her floor.” Then he walks off

You sighed.

“You’re good to go, hun.” Your glam team confirms.

Eventually, your team trickles out one by one leaving you with a moment to yourself. Closing your eyes, you lean back against your chair and let out a heavy sigh.

You really wanted to talk to Jenna before tonight’s gala.

The news of your ‘possible arrest’ and ‘charges’ is abuzz all over the internet and social media.

It seems like whoever leaked that you were caught with coke made you public enemy number one on certain news outlets, once again.

But people on the internet have differing opinions. Some make fun of the situation, some defend you, and some are outright bashing you.

You’ve deactivated various social media’s, only keeping your Instagram to check on Jenna and her family’s posts from Coachella weekend, but your comments are limited.

The slew of hate you've been hit with from randoms is overwhelming despite you not caring about their thoughts on your life and the way you chose to live it.

There's only so much you can take when the first thing you read when you open social media is your name.

But, you’ve been so swamped with rehearsals and duties as a host that you couldn’t even greet the other actress when she landed. By the time you made it back to your hotel room in the dead of night, you didn’t feel you should disturb Jenna’s much-needed rest — knowing she’s a bit of an insomniac.

“Hey, I just got the okay. We’re good to go. We can meet Jenna.” Link pops his head through the door breaking you out of your thoughts.

You open your eyes, and sighed, taking your time to get up making Link raise his brow. “Hey, it’ll be okay.”

He reassures you once you stepped out of the door, holding the lavish train of your dress behind you.

“Yeah…” You mutter distantly, bunching your dress up with one hand to walk to the elevator.

When you make it to Jenna’s floor your hands begin to perspire. Enrique’s words from earlier ringing loudly in your ears, he definitely made it sound like Jenna was mad at you.

She was right, you do jump to conclusions.

You force yourself to take a calm, deep breath as you wait for her door to open; nervously tapping your high-heeled foot on the carpet.

When the door creaks open, your eyes are snapping to it immediately.

“Wow…” You do a double-take, with a wide-eyed goggle — taking a step back to admire her custom tuxedo dress.

“Thanks…” She tucks a hair behind her ear, glancing down shyly.

“Jenna… I mean it, you look— wow. I mean—“ You stutter embarrassingly. 

In all your ears as a performer, you have never been so tongue-tied. What is this girl doing to you?

Even Enrique couldn’t help but laugh behind her, easing the tension as Jenna just flicks an amused brow at you, despite her reddening cheeks.

Clearing your throat, attempting to hide your unabashed staring, “Sorry, I just mean— you look beautiful.”

“Thank you… so do you.” She muttered gingerly.

“You like it? It’s a little on the nose.” It was your turn to blush as you glanced between your outfit and hers — a bride and groom. You try not to put too much meaning on the implication.

“It was my idea, actually.” She admitted.

“Really?” You asked, surprised.

“Yeah,” She steps out, walking ahead of you. “It’ll be great for the press.”

That word was starting to grind your gears whenever it left her mouth.

You frowned as she walked further away.

"Can we talk? I need to tell you something." You slide in next to her.

Damn her and those heels.

"Not now, Y/N," Jenna whispers coldly, sparing you a warning look.

"It's important Jenn—"

"Y/N. I'm serious. Don't make things worse." She says with certainty that made you slightly afraid but knowing when to keep your mouth shut has never been your strong suit.

"You know... about the article." You trail off, unsure how you feel.

"Of course. I know, Y/N. God." She rolls her eyes and walks into the elevator.

You keep your head down and shove yourself into the opposite corner of the metal box; not wanting to be close to the other actress as you attempt to cool down.

She really believed a gossip article?

When the door opens, you couldn’t help but slide in beside her. “And you really believe it? Over me?”

She sighed, pulling you aside to a secluded corner and let both of your teams walk ahead; ignoring their prying eyes.

“I don’t know what to believe Y/N.”

You scoff, brows furrowing, “Me… believe me, Jenna.”

“How?” She says bluntly and you feel your heart drop at her tone and how sure she sounded about her accusations. 

You know you’re the farthest from a saint. Did what you do warrant this reaction from her? 

Maybe. 

But you felt like you should still be able to explain your side.

She takes your stunned silence as a prompt to keep talking.

“This is what you do. You run away from things until it catches up to you. We’ve spent the last few months by each other sides and you never brought up the—“She takes a deep breath, glancing around wearily, “Coke… so you tell me Y/N, what should I believe? ‘Cause it feels like you haven’t been upfront with me.”

“Upfront with you–” You laugh resentfully.

“Guys, we gotta go!” Link yells before you can give in to your rising anger.

I guess you know where you stand with her. 

“We—We’ll talk about it later,” Jenna sighs, hanging her head low as if she were tired.

Deep breath...

“Don’t bother. Point made."

“What was that?” Link asks, holding his elbow out for you to take as you walked away from the other actress.

“My answer.” You mumbled, bitterly.

Maybe she is just like the rest of them.

–

not even sorry about it…

(fun fact: my @ is a play-off of House of Balloons by The Weeknd)🫢

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#legally binded #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega

[rustedhearts]

let it snow (70s!steve harrington x fem!reader)

summary: what happens when you're snowed in with your best friend (and there's a lot of sexual tension)?

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ the only living boy in indiana ✶ christmas carols ✶ the library

tags: fluff, mutual pining, best friend!steve

"oh, the weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful, and since we've no place to go: let it snow! let it snow! let it snow!"

— let it snow! let it snow! let it snow!, dean martin

somewhere in indiana. december, 1976.

“That snow’s really comin’ down,” Steve mused from his bedroom window.

You glanced up from your book, splayed on your stomach against his duvet. “It’ll be fine.”

Steve let his drape drop back into place over the window, frosted with ice and fogging with the heat from his radiator. He wandered back toward the bed, flopping beside you and jostling the mattress. You huffed into your current chapter.

“Not worried about missing your date tonight?”

You shrugged, flipping the page that you haven’t even read. “Eh. He’s kind of boring anyway."

"Well, yeah," Steve scoffed, twisting to lay on his back. The blankets bunched up with his shifting. "His name is Peter."

"Your name is Steve."

Steve's head snapped your way to sharpen his eyes in a glare. "Hey."

A slow, sideways smile plucked at your lips. You turned back to your book and stifled a giggle, though it burst free when his fingers poked your side.

"Wanna go in the basement? I need a light and Mom'll kill me if she smells it up here."

You closed your book around your finger and gazed at him over your shoulder. "They won't be home for hours."

"It lingers, sweetheart."

“Gross.” You scrunched up your nose and tried to ignore the pulsing ache in your chest. Bless the cold for keeping the heat from rushing to your face. “Don’t call me that.”

Steve rolled off the bed and to his feet, rushing the door and paying no mind to your distaste.

"C'mon, sweetheart," he called, already halfway down the hall. "We can dip into some of my dad's scotch."

So half an hour later, Steve was on his second Winston—the first stubbed out in the glass ashtray on the coffee table—and you were nursing a mug of scotch. Your mug had Santa on it, and you traced his beard with the edge of your nail as Steve fiddled with the stereo.

"Don't have any Christmas tunes," he'd muttered once you settled in the freezing cold basement. "But we can break out the winter music."

"And what do you consider 'winter music?'" you asked.

He lit up a Winston and clenched it between his teeth, already rifling through his baskets of vinyl. "Anything as cold and dreary as this damn town."

Now, Steve was bopping his hips to a jazzy tune found on a very old record from early high school. You remember the day he found it at the record store. It was during his "blue period," where all he wanted to listen to was jazz and blues.

You hid your grin behind another sip as Steve made finger guns toward the ceiling in time to the trumpet of the song, though a giggle burst forth into a gulp of scotch. His head snapped your way, one finger gun coming to pull his cigarette away.

"I hear your giggles, Miss. Grinch," he teased, swinging his leg over the back of the sofa to sit on the edge.

You swallowed down the pungent liquor, wincing when it stung. "I'm not a Grinch. I just don't like Christmas the same way you do, you know that."

Steve blew a cloud of smoke though his teeth. "Yeah, never understood that, by the way."

"Not for you to understand, Hair."

Steve narrowed his eyes at you, pointing the ashed end of his cigarette your way. "Don't call me that."

You quirked a brow, chin tipping up defiantly. "Or what?"

Steve cooly mouthed at his cigarette a moment more. He carefully slid down the back of the couch until he was seated near your socked feet, leaning forward to stub his second Winston out. As it died out in the mess of ash, Steve hooked his arm around your knees and yanked you close.

"Steve," you warned, voice knocked a pitch up. "Don't!"

It took everything in you not to spill your scotch as Steve's thin fingers prodded at your sides. He knew just what spots to press on, just where to squeeze and jiggle to have you twisting and writhing in a fit of laughter. The kind of laughter that had you aching with soreness. The kind of laughter that sent you back to infancy together.

Steve swooped the mug out of your hand and placed it on the coffee table before it could fall—but only so he could ignore your giggled protests to stop as the pair of you slipped off the couch. You tumbled to the hard floor together, a mess of limbs on concrete.

Soon, you were pinned under his heavy weight. His hands stopped tickling and rested stilly on your waist. They slipped under your sweater in the commotion, and now his palms braced your bare flesh without barrier. You could feel him between your legs—the sheer size of him, pushing your thighs apart and stretching them to sting. The outline of him pressed against his jeans.

The laughter subsided to breathless sighs. You gazed up at his pink-cheeked face, splotched with excitement. Your stomach was in your throat. The record stopped spinning some time ago, and now the empty scratch of needle turn crackled through the empty house. The end of your nose was frozen from the cold, but the rest of you was on fire pressed up against Steve.

Steve: your best friend.

"You're so soft," he whispered.

Your breath hitched. His thumb started to move in odd patterns under your shirt. You were suddenly and extremely aware of your hands around his arms—and how firm his biceps were under his sleeves. Every breath that touched your face smelled like Winston smoke. There was a tear in the rug underneath you and it was tickling your cheek.

"Th-thank you."

His thumbs continued. The breathing shallowed. The record spun on an empty track. His eyes were such a pretty color—or, an amalgamation of many colors all in one pretty iris.

You swallowed thickly, mouth suddenly dry. "I-I should go. Still...try to make my date."

Steve nodded, though he, too, was lost in your eyes. He never noticed how pretty the shape of your eyes were. How long and dainty the lashes were, how they brushed your cheeks with every blink. Did you know? Had you walked around with all this glorious beauty his entire life?

How could he have been so blind?

"Steve," you interrupted. "Get off me."

Steve scrambled to release you of his weight, rolling to his feet and brushing off his jeans. He helped you up—a gentle hand around your arm—and watched you grab your coat from the hook near the door. You've had that coat for years—the fur-lined collar and cuffed sleeves were full of lint and cat hair, and there was a button missing at the bottom.

While you were fishing for your gloves in the pockets, Steve moved the lace drapes over the back door and peered up the steps. There was about three feet of snow blocking the door, and as he watched, more piled over the staircase and across the yard.

"Uh...not sure you should go out in this," he announced.

You flicked your hair out of your face with mittened hands and huffed. "What?"

"The snow's pretty bad—"

"We live in Indiana, Steve. I've seen plenty of snow."

Steve dropped the snow and stepped away, arms folded over his chest. "Is Peter really worth getting stuck in a snowstorm?"

You cocked your foot out, mimicking his folded arms. "Maybe. He-he might be. I don't know."

It was the way his jaw tipped up at you, how his brows raised and nestled together, how his lip curled into a grin akin to the sixteen year old that never got told 'no.' It was the way your heart thumped in your ears with deafening force.

You weren't sure you could be around him right now. Not without wondering how his lips tasted. Not without wondering why he'd never told you he loved you.

"Really? What's his last name?"

"Good question. I'll ask him tonight." You rolled your eyes and whirled around, heading toward the basement steps.

If Steve wouldn't let you leave that way, you'd just go out the front.

"Hey—seriously, you're not going out in this."

"Oh yeah?" you huffed, stomping up the stairs. "Who's gonna stop me?"

A heavy arm hooked around your waist, knocking the air from your lungs with one quick pull. Steve hoisted you back down the steps, and it was only when he placed you back on your feet that you started kicking them. You got one good hit in the thigh before backing away to glare.

"What the hell is your issue?" you spat.

Steve threw his arms out—fucking Christ, his shoulders were broad. His hands were so big, and he had the prettiest pink flush to his face after all that play fighting and struggling.

"I'm not letting you go out in that."

It took everything in you to muster a squint and shoot it at him. You were sweating bullets in your buttoned-up coat.

"Well, I'm going."

Maybe you wanted him to grab you again. Maybe that's why you tried to push past him and dart up the stairs. Maybe you wanted to be chased, manhandled, held by those big, rough hands—Steve couldn't think of any other reason for your second attempt at escaping.

So, he snatched you up again. This time, you ended up dangling over his shoulder, and your feet were quicker to react this time. But your struggles were futile and adorable, and Steve chuckled when he brought you back to the cement floor and blocked off the stairs with a stiff body.

Once standing, you flicked your hair away again. Steve pushed his sweater sleeves up to his elbows. Cords of muscle flexed in his forearms—those strong, wide forearms. The scotch was starting to take effect. The room was getting smaller and hotter by the second, and you couldn't stop watching his lips grow pinker with heat.

"You have to stop touching me," you breathed out, so much softer than you wished it would sound. But you had no strength around Steve when he was at this proximity.

He pushed his hair out of his eyes, swallowing. He almost seemed in pain. "Then stop looking at me like that."

Your mouth ran dry. The room regained its frigidity in an instance. The sizzle of saliva down your throat passed between you.

"Like...like what?"

There was an ache growing in your chest that you were starting to resent. A hollow, weeping ache that squeezed with all its might when Steve looked down and shook his head.

"Nothing."

You watched him a moment. Scuff his shoes through the dirt on the floor. Wipe at his nose the way he does when he's nervous. Tuck his hands into his pockets and roll his shoulders. Meet your eyes only to duck away again.

"What if I...just go home?"

Steve scratched at the back of his neck, tousling his hair. "I'll-I'll walk you."

You nodded. "Okay."

Steve bundled in his coat and scarf, slipping on a pair of ratty old gloves before you pushed your way out the front door. Though you only lived a few houses down, it as a difficult trek. You had to hoist your legs with every step, kicking snow up the back of your jeans and under your coat. The wind whipped flurries at your face and numbed your mouth.

By the time you made it to your own front door, you were shivering and no less flustered than a few minutes ago. You turned around as you reached for the knob, finding Steve at the top step, waiting.

"Thanks for walking me."

Steve shoved his hands into his pockets and nodded. His smile was tight-lipped. "Sure."

You opened the door and slipped inside. Steve watched you kick the snow off your boots against the wall and shimmy your coat onto the hook. He watched you trudge to the steps and ascend them slowly, lost in the world of your own thoughts.

He stepped back and shuffled through the mound of white on your front lawn. He stopped in view of your bedroom window on the second floor, and watched the glass turn yellow in the lamplight. You passed in front of the window on your way to the bed.

Steve echoed a white breath into the air.

Maybe one day.

#rolly! #steve harrington #70s!steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington au

[twice-inamillion]

Honeymoon in Hawaii 

Fluff and Smut (Adventure, hiking, surfing, bikini, deep penetration, anal, cream pie, ahegao, sloppy sex, outdoor sex )

Chapter 212

2,953 Words 

(Honeymoon adventures with Jihyo and OC. Jihyo and OC have messy sex.)

After having your morning session, you and Jihyo make your way to the first destination, Stairway to Heaven. 

It has been Jihyo’s dream to hike the trail since she learned about it a few years back. With her wedding in Hawaii, she wanted to make that dream come true. “Babe, I’m so excited. I am looking forward to doing this hike.” 

“Haha, you’ve said that about a hundred times. It’s good that it’s just both of us, or else we wouldn’t make it.” 

“Yeah, I know. You’re the only one that can keep up.” 

“No, I just let you lead,” giving her a smirk. She looks at you, smirking, and slaps your leg, “Hey, that’s mean.”

The two of you arrive at the trail entrance and gather your belongings, a light backpack, each with snacks, water, an emergency kit, and extra clothes. You make your way to the travel and start to hike for a mile before you reach the base of the mountain.

“Wow, that’s really high.” Jihyo smacks you on the arm and says, “Come on. If we don’t hurry, we won’t get some good shots. “Okay! Coming!” as you see Jihyo picking up the pace.

With your GoPro on, the both of you record as you make your way up the slippery trail. “Alright, babe, let’s take a small break,” says Jihyo.

You’re almost two hours in, and the both of you are making good time. The hike up the mountain is about six hours, but you might be able to make it to five at your pace. 

After a small break, you begin to climb again, and without realizing the scenery of the surrounding mountains starts to show from the fog. “Look, you can see much better” Jihyo points at the closest mountain. You peek and see the steep drop, which makes you a bit worried for Jihyo’s safety. “Alight, that’s enough looking,” you grab onto Jihyo’s hand and keep her from getting too close to the edge. “Oppa, don’t tell me you’re scared.” 

“I’m not scared; it’s you I’m worried about. I don’t want you to slip and fall off.” 

“Haha, I’m careful, but I’ll try not to get too close anymore.”

With only the last leg of the trial remaining, you hike up the mountain. The higher you go, the better the view until you reach a wall. You see a long rope and footprints on the wall from the number of other hikers and decide to give it a go. 

“So you want me to go, or do you want to give it a try?”

“Hmm… I want to try,” as Jihyo grabs the rope and wraps it around her arm for support. She places her right foot, then her left, and climbs slowly. Midway through the climb, her foot slips, causing her to yelp suddenly. “Want me to give you a boost?”

“No, I can do it. Let me just get a better footing.” She finds a crack in between the boulder and makes it all the way to the top. “See, I did it. Here!” throwing the rope to you.

You grab the rope, wrap it around your arm, and make it to the top with little effort. 

“Alright, just a bit more, right?” 

“Yeah, excited?”

“Of course, I’ve been waiting to come here for a while; too bad we can’t go the other way.”

“Yeah… no one is allowed, but some still do it. It’s a nice view but not worth the risk.”

“I heard it’s an easier climb.”

“Yeah, I saw a couple of YouTube videos, and it’s way easier.”

 Jihyo and you hike for another thirty minutes until you reach a radio station, signaling the end of the hike. 

“Wow, it’s beautiful,” Jihyo takes in the view. She points towards the ocean, the cars passing through the highway, and the small buildings in the city. 

You can't help but take your phone out and snap a picture of Jihyo’s expression. You’re in awe of how beautiful she is and how your wife looks. She turns around and notices your camera, “Let me do a pose,” and holds a peace sign and squints her eyes. She does other poses and grabs your phone. She snaps multiple pictures of you with the great view as the background until you pull her to you. “Let’s get one of us together.”

Jihyo gets on one of the rails, wraps her arms around your neck, and gives you a kiss on the cheek. She grabs her GoPro and holds the gimbal's end to record her surroundings. Jihyo goes down the stairs to get a better background, making you laugh as you find it cute of her being a blogger. 

After ending your photo session, Jihyo, you sit and admire the view. It’s completely silent; no words are needed to express your feelings. You’ve made an excellent decision to marry your best friend and the mother of your child. You look at her, staring at the blue ocean, and pull her in for a kiss. 

The climb down is much easier, and it takes only an hour. Once you arrive at your car, the both of you are a complete mess, boots and legs full of mud. You grab a jug of water, wash each other’s legs, and change into sandals and new shorts. Jihyo takes off her top and tosses it in the back of the car, leaving her with a sports bra. “Come, babe, take that shirt off. I want to see your abs.” 

You arrive back at the house and take a quick shower before having brunch. The both of you sit on the back patio and enjoy the view of the ocean in front of the house. While Jihyo cleans up, you head to the backyard and set up the large hammock between two trees. 

“Want to take a small nap?”

“But we just ate.”

“Ahh, don’t worry about the small details. Come on, join me.” you grab her hand.

“Okay,” and climbs into the hanging hammock. 

“What do you think? Comfortable, right?”

“Yeah, not too tight. I like it.” 

“Maybe we should have one back home.”

Jihyo shoves her face into your chest and slowly drifts away after a tiring morning. You watch as Jihyo falls asleep and caress her hair before falling asleep as well. 

Three hours later, you wake up from your nap and notice Jihyo gone. You search around and see a small sitting by the shore. 

“Hey, you left. What’s up?”

“Woke up earlier than you and didn’t want to wake you up. You look cute when you sleep.” You can’t hide your embarrassment from Jihyo and pick her up, placing her on your shoulder. 

“Wait! Where are you taking me?”

“You said you wanted to have fun, right?”

“Yeah, but what are we doing?”

“We’re going surfing. There’s a pair of boards in the back.” 

“Really? We’re going to surf?”

“Yeah, I asked Nayeon to pack your swimming suit before we left.” 

“Yay!”

With the two of you in your swimsuits and board in hand, you head to the water. Jihyo is the first one to run into the water, “Come on, slowpoke!” 

“Alright, alright, I’m coming.”

Sitting on the board, you listen to Jihyo’s plan as you float in open waters. The first wave comes, and you watch her try to ride the wave but falls. She swims back to where you are and tries again, this time staying longer on the board. Time after time, she comes back with lots of energy and tells you her mistake and how she is going to do better. She gives you a couple of pointers before you head out to catch a wave. 

After a couple of times, you come back completely wet from falling so much. “Haha, finally something I’m better at.” She mocks you and comforts you on trying your best after getting her fill. 

“Okay, let’s try again. I think I can do it better this time.”

“Hmm? Are you challenging me, Oppa?” 

“I guess I am.” 

“Okay, loser does whatever the winner wants.”

You hesitate for a bit and see Jihyo’s smirk tease you. “That’s a bet,” and the both of you shake hands. 

You and Jihyo spend two hours surfing but also take a few breaks here and there. It’s sunset, and you two are enjoying the sun setting down behind the ocean. 

With your boards side by side, you two hold hands. “We’re finally husband and wife. I can’t believe it. It’s finally hitting me.”

“Haha, it hit me too when I saw you walking down the aisle; you looked beautiful. I think I’m the happiest man in the world right now.”

She can’t help but laugh at your comment, “Okay, okay, we get it. You don’t have to get all sentimental here.”

Eventually, you both return to shore and head towards the small outdoor shower to clean your board and rinse yourself. Jihyo removes her swimsuit as she tries to get the sand off, revealing her bikini. You do the same but can’t and stare at her tanned body.

Jihyo then takes off her top, which reveals her perfect breast, “Fuck…” She doesn’t notice you coming up behind her until she feels your lips on the back of her nape. “Babe, that tickles,” as she squirms around. You slowly move your hands on her ass, aim for the piece of string holding her bikini, and pull on it. Unaware that her bottom is undone because of your kissing, you pull down your shorts and give Jihyo a nice smack on the ass. 

“Ahh…” 

You pretend to lose your balance and press your body against hers. She places her hands on the wall to keep herself from falling, “You’re heavy, babe. Get off.” With your semi-hard cock in hand, you slowly align yourself to Jihyo’s entrance. She doesn’t notice what you are about to do since you keep her distracted by kissing her nape. When she does feel your hot cock’s head poking at the entrance of her slit, she lifts her butt. 

With her permission, you grab onto her waist and penetrate her cunt. You don’t feel much resistance since you warmed her up a bit with all the kissing and reached her deepest parts in no time. “Mmhh… ahh fuck!” You give her little time for adjustment and begin to thrust at a fast pace. Jihyo immediately starts to moan loudly since it is just the both of you around, “Ahh… yes! That feels so good! Fuck… you’re so deep inside my pussy!” 

Knowing she is enjoying it, you increase the pace and press her against the shower wall. You pull most of your cock out and immediately shove it back inside, causing Jihyo to grunt. “Omg! Your cock is hitting my womb! Keep fucking me just like that,” as she moves her right hand to her cunt and starts to masturbate. She rubs her lips at a rapid pace, aiming for her orgasm. It doesn’t take long for her to reach it, and she is the first to cum. Her legs shake as she orgasms and sprays the floor with her love juice. 

You don’t slow down or stop fucking her as she rides her orgasm but instead increase the pace. This makes all her senses go into overdrive, and she loses her balance in the process. After her orgasm dissipates, you pull out your cock and see her get away from the wall and move to the other side of the shower to get a hold on something firm to keep herself from falling, but you have other plans. 

You can’t but want to get back at her from earlier today. So grab Jihyo’s hand and say, “babe, one more, please,” giving her a puppy dog eyes. She looks at you exhausted but nods and places her hands against the shower window. She positions herself and spreads her legs to give you better access to her mess of a cunt. You have other plans, though, and get your cock ready. “Remember our promise, right? The loser does whatever the winner wants.” It takes her a bit to get her thoughts together, but when she does, it's too late. You align yourself to her entrance and press the tip against it. It is then when she realizes what you’re about to do, “Wait… babe… that’s the wrong…” doesn’t finish her sentence as she feels the tip of your cock against her puckerhole. 

You push your cock in slowly, and you’re met with some resistance as her walls try to push you back out. “Relax, babe. Just a bit more.” Jihyo turns around and sees your puppy dog eyes, and accepts your cock inside her ass. After that, her walls loosen, which makes it a bit easier for your cock. You press forward and insert more of your cock inside of Jihyo’s ass. 

Jihyo bites her lips as she feels her ass being split wide open by your cock. She’s always had a harder time with anal and has only done it less than a handful of times, and every time is the same. She would rather keep going a few more rounds with her cunt and remembers the number of times you have asked her for anal. She wants to keep her promise, accepts the temporary pain, and relaxes her body. 

With your right hand on your cock and the left on Jihyo’s waist, you penetrate Jihyo’s tight ass. You can feel Jihyo’s body relaxing, which allows you to shove more of your cock inside of it. Jihyo moans and grunts aloud as she takes an inch at a time, “Fuck! Your cock is too big! It’s going to destroy my ass, fuck!” 

Not wanting to make her suffer more than she has to, you decide to get it over in one go. You press her against the wall once more, grab onto her waist, and give it one final thrust. Jihyo opens her eyes wide open when she feels your whole length inside her ass in one go. Her walls tighten even more around your cock, and give her a chance to adjust to your length. Jihyo can feel the hottest of your throbbing cock inside of her. “Fuck… you’re so tight,” as you try to move. After getting her approval, you begin to thrust, increasing the pace little by little. It goes from a sharp pain to slight pleasure as she feels her insides getting rearranged. 

You place your hand against her lower lips and finger her cunt to make it easier. This helps a little bit and makes it more pleasurable for her. You then pick up the pace and give a couple of hard thrusts, and can feel your cock from the other side. You feel the bulge of your cock inside her ass with every thrust. It turns you on to see her bulging belly every time you press your cock against it. 

Little by little, Jihyo gets used to your cock inside of her puckerhole and begins to enjoy it. She can't help but touch the bulge in her belly every time it pokes out and finds it kind of hot. “Ahh… ba babe… you really want to mess me up like chaeyoung, huh.”

“Yes, I want your ass to give itself to me. I want to teach every inch of your body that it belongs to me,” and decide to pick her up. Jihyo is surprised and gasps when she’s placed in a reverse stand-and-carry position.

Now the both of you can see your cock creating a big bulge in her belly as if she’s pregnant once more. “Fuck… you're reaching all the way to my deepest part!” You can feel your cock throbbing and begin to fuck her ass while being carried. 

Jihyo moans as she’s carried in the air and enjoys getting railed in the ass. Every time your tip reaches the deepest part, it feels like ecstasy. Little by little, she gives in to the pleasure until she is a complete mess. She doesn’t realize her mind is fading away, and her body is riding on pure ecstasy. 

You give it a couple of thrusts before your orgasm reaches its peak. You see Jihyo’s face ruined by pleasure and say, “Babe, I’m about to cum” but there is no response, just random mumbling, indecipherable words. You ask, “Want me to cum inside?” She tries to come up with the words but can’t and just nods. “Okay, if you really want me to cum, then hold the peace sign.” 

Jihyo, with her remaining consciousness, holds the peace sign as you face her towards the mirror by the corner of the shower. You lift her up, only leave a head of your cock, wait a few seconds and drop her whole weight on your cock. Jihyo’s body immediately reacts, making her squirt all over the mirror as you drown her ass with your biggest load. The expression on her face is priceless as she does a messy ahegao expression while holding the peace signs. Her body loses all its energy and becomes limp and letting go of your cock, only leaving a gaping hole. 

After the messy session, you return to your room and let her rest. She cleans herself with your assistance by taking a proper shower before going to bed. Tomorrow, you both will wake up sore from being busy the whole day, Jihyo especially. 

#twice smut #kpop smut #twice fluff #kpop fluff #twice jihyo #jihyo x m reader #jihyo fluff #jihyo smut #jihyo x reader #TM smut #twice x oc #twice x reader

[starogeorgina]

𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐲

Paring: Aegon II Targaryen x Targaryen OC

Warnings: None

Chapter: 1.01

“Rhaenyra!” You continue to rapidly bang your fist against the door leading into your elder sister's bedroom. "Rhaenyra, open this door right now!”

You hated her.

“You’re a fucking coward to hide from me!” You didn’t care that your language was unfit for a young lady, a princess; Rhaenyra had cut you deeply, and you wanted to make sure she knew it. “Unlock this door at once!”

You hated her.

“I would have never done this to you,” you sob. “I loved you, Rhaenyra, my big sister. We’re supposed to look out for each other, not... I would never do this. Not to you, never.”

You only stop banging on the door when your fist is pulled back by Ser Criston. “You need to stop before you hurt yourself, princess.”

You knew he was right, but it didn’t stop the anger that was radiating through you. Not only has Rhaenyra humiliated you by sleeping with your husband, she has also given birth to his sons. Three of them. Something you were never even given the chance to do. Your brain comes to a heartbreaking realization, one that makes you want to scream as soon as you think about it. Rhaenyra doesn’t care about you and never did. You feel your knees start to weaken, and your stomach drops. The knight whispers, “I know you’re hurting, princess, but they aren’t worthy of your tears.”

You take a deep breath and wipe your fallen tears away, knowing that he was right. “Thank you, Ser Criston.”

“The queen heard about what happened and would like for you to join her in her quarters. She wishes to offer you her comfort.”

You blink away the tears, your vision becoming more clear, and when it does, you see your husband standing down at the opposite end of the hallway. No doubt he was coming to see her. He was staring at you, looking worried. You feel your heart harden, not wanting to give him or her the satisfaction of seeing you hurt. You push back the sob, desperately wanting to escape your throat. “Ser Criston, do you mind escorting me to the queen's chambers?”

“Of course, princess.”

—

“How could she betray me in such a way?”

Alicent wraps her around your shoulder; she seems genuinely concerned about you. You had managed to maintain a smidgen of your dignity by holding your head high as you walked through the castle, ignoring all the side-eye glances and whispers going on around you. One of Alicent’s ladies-in-waiting brings in a tray of tea that’s supposed to help calm nerves.

“Prin-”

“Ivory,” you correct with a weak smile.

Lord Strong nods, “Ivory, I am ashamed to admit that rumors of my brother's betrayal had reached me long ago, but I assumed there was no truth to it. It wasn’t until I learned about the incident in the training yard this morning that I came to realize it was true.”

You had spent the last year defending Rhaenyra and Harwin, insisting that Jacaerys and Lucerys weren’t fathered by your husband before you were married. Because of your age, you had yet to lay with Harwin, and you thought if he was going to stray, it would be in the streets of silk, not with your own flesh and blood.

“She swore to me in our mothers names that they were Ser Lenors true-born sons. How could I have been so foolish?”

“You aren’t foolish, my sweet.” Alicent picks up a cup of tea and hands it to you, giving you a sympathetic look as she notices your hands trembling. “You have been deceived, and I can only imagine what Viserys will have to say when he finds out.”

You shake your head. It was widely known that Rhaenyra was your father's favorite, and learning what she was really like could be the thing that breaks him. “My love for my father is the only thing keeping me quiet. He is sick; finding out the truth about what Rhaenyra has done might be the thing that kills him, and we do not want him to suffer. If I’m being honest, I don’t know what to do.”

“I find that praying helps me find clarity and reassurance. I pray to the mother nightly; you can join me if you wish.”

“Perhaps I should pray to the warrior as well as the mother.” You chuckle lightly. “I could really use the gods' strength and courage."

—

After visiting the sept the night previously, the queen had arranged for you to stay in a separate bedchamber for the night since your quarter was beside Rhaenyra’s.

In the morning, Ser Criston escorted you back to your quarters; with him by your side, nobody dared approach you. The knight made pleasant small talk and even managed to make you laugh. When you reach your quarters, you thank him before walking into your bedchamber. You sit down at your vanity and begin to unbraid your hair, only stopping when you hear the door opening.

“Flora?” You call out, hoping to see your lady in waiting, who has become a close friend over the years. “Flora, is that you?”

When you turn around, you’re stunned to see Rhaenyra and Harwin. At first, you were afraid that the sight of them would upset you, but now, as you sit in front of them, all you feel is anger.

You say nothing; you turn your back on them and shift your attention to taking the remainder of your braids out. You push down the lump forming in your throat when Rhaenyra kneels down beside you with tears in her eyes. You pretend she isn’t even there and get up to go pick a dress to wear once you are bathed.

“Ivory! Ivory, please,” Rhaenyra begs. “It happened before you were betrothed! I never wanted you to find out like this. Sister, please! Just let me explain!”

You had fully intended to continue giving her the cold shoulder, but hearing the word sister caused you to snap. You can’t believe she had the nerve to call you that. You spin around fast, and your expression pulls into one of anger and hurt as you snap, “Don’t call me that again.”

Rhaenyra steps back as if you’d struck her.

Harwin says, “I am sincerely sorry for betraying your trust.”

You scoff, annoyed that he seems upset when it’s you that should be hurt by his dishonorable actions. “Until such a time that I am of age to perform my duty as princess and your wife, I don’t think we need to speak again.”

“Ivory…”

“You may leave, Ser Harwin.”

When the knight leaves, you turn to face your sister, whose eyes were bloodshot from crying, which angers you further. “Since the day Jace was born, I have loved him; the same is true of Luke. You’ve watched me play with them and sing to them. I’ve basically grown up with them, and not once did you ever think to tell me they were fathered by Harwin.”

“I tried to spare you the pain of knowing the truth.”

You can’t help the laugh that slips past your lips. “You must really hate me.”

She squeezes her eyes shut as more tears roll down her cheeks. “I love you.”

“No, you don’t. I’ve always looked up to you; I wanted to be just like you. My perfect big sister.” You shake your head, backing away from her slightly when she reaches for you. “Do not touch me.”

"When my father told me about his plans for you and Harwin to wed, I tried to stop the betrothal; I really did.”

“I believe you,” you say, wiping away more fallen tears. You hardly knew Harwin; he would occasionally accompany you on walks around the garden, and nothing more than a kiss on the back of the hand was shared between you, but he was still your husband. “Both Jacaerys and Lucerys were born before the betrothal; I would have easily looked past that and done everything I could to help protect them. But Joffrey, he’s only a few days old. Even after I married Harwin, you continued to have an affair with him.”

You see guilt pass over her features before she drops her gaze to the floor and says, “I’m sorry.”

“I still love my nephews; that will never change, but I can’t be around them right now. Not after knowing what I know, it will just be a constant reminder."

“Of my betrayal.” Rhaenyra takes a deep breath; red patches have appeared across her neck and chest. “I hope one day you can forgive me.”

When Rhaenyra leaves the room, you throw yourself onto your bed, pull your pillow to your face, and sob into it. This was too much pressure for a girl of one and five to bear.

When someone knocks at your door, you groan a little, assuming Harwin or Rhaenyra had come back. “Go away,” you mumble into your pillow. You lift your head to tell them to go away, but change your mind when you see who it is “Aegon, what are you doing here?”

He avoids looking you in the eye and shrugs. “My mother said you were upset.”

“So you came to check on me?”

You weren’t much older than Aegon; before you had even celebrated your first name day, your father had remarried, and Queen Alicent was pregnant. You were surprised to see Aegon, considering he didn’t spend much time with any of your siblings.

He rolls his eyes and says, “No.”

“Oh, then what are you doing here?”

“Wanted to know if you’d like to go dragon riding together.”

You smile and say, “Sure, that sounds like fun.”

Aegon on Sunfyre and you on Ghost were exactly what you needed to take your mind off everything else that was going on.

#house of the dragon #aegon ii targaryen x female reader #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii targaryen x you #aegon ii targaryen fanfiction #Aegon II Targaryen/you #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfic #aegon targaryen fanfic #aegon targaryen x you #aegon ii fic #ghosts in the sky #aegon ii targaryen x oc #Aegon II Targaryen/oc #Aegon II Targaryen x fem oc #aegon ii x oc #aegon targaryen x oc #Aegon Targaryen x fem oc

[tinyywriterr]

WHO WILL IT BE?

*+:｡.｡.·:*¨༺༻¨*:·.｡.｡:+**+:｡.｡.·:*¨༺༻¨*:·.｡.｡:+*

{Nanami + Toji + POC Reader}

∘°∘♡∘°∘𝓒𝓗𝓐𝓟𝓣𝓔𝓡 𝓝𝓘𝓝𝓔 ~ 𝓕𝓘𝓝𝓐𝓛𝓛𝓨 𝓗𝓞𝓜𝓔∘°∘♡∘°∘

⟿ Song to Go with the Chapter: Whole Lotta Love by Led Zeppelin OR Bedroom by SupahBadd [You + Nanami + Toji theme song for this chapter]

⟿ Word Count: around 6,500 to 6,750 +

⟿ Nanami + Reader smut scene | First Nanami + Toji + Reader smut scene | sex dungeon scene

⟿ Summary: You’ve started to grow comfortable and accustomed to your new living situation and your more then thankful. Nanami tells you great news and you’ve built up the courage to speak to Toji finally. Will you get to know him better? Of course, especially since it’ll be the way you know best and you know he can’t resist. The both of you can’t stay away from one another much longer.

*+:｡.｡.·:*¨༺༻¨*:·.｡.｡:+**+:｡.｡.·:*¨༺༻¨*:·.｡.｡:+*

𝓒𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓦𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰: contains smut, pet names, the use of every hole, cream pie, fingering, oral sex, dom/sub, soft dom vs semi hard dom, threesomes, light BDSM, fem reader, black fem reader/you, and etc. [please don’t read if easily triggered or not 18 +]

◈━◈━◈━◈━◈

𝓐𝓾𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓻𝓼 𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓮: 18+ please & please don’t copy and paste my story anywhere else. This chapter is slightly longer then the last chapter and once again there’s a lot of switching between POV’s. ANYWAYS, this is my first tumblr fic so if you leave a heart, reblog, or comment it’s greatly appreciated! If there are any errors I am open to anyone correcting me in the comments, leaving feedback, or dming me. I hope you will enjoy this as much as I did when I wrote this!

'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*𝒜 𝒲𝐸𝐸𝒦 𝒫𝒜𝒮𝒮𝐸𝒮 𝑀𝒜𝒦𝐼𝒩𝒢 𝐼𝒯 𝒯𝐻𝐸 𝐿𝒜𝒮𝒯 𝒲𝐸𝐸𝒦 𝒪𝐹 𝐹𝐸𝐵𝑅𝒰𝒜𝑅𝒴 | 𝒩𝒜𝒩𝒜𝑀𝐼 ’𝒮 𝒫𝒪𝒱✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Nanami is so happy you took to moving so well and loved the house he picked out. You’ve been on bed rest for a week now and you look a thousand times better. You’re finally able to walk on your own and don’t complain about a headache anymore. He felt he could finally relax not having to worry about how you were holding up. While you were in a coma it made it open his eyes; to finally gripping life by the throat. ‘Why work at a job you hate? Why not move to the countryside? Why not follow my dreams? What would y/n want me to do?’. Was all he could think about; it’s been freeing to finally have all the answers.

Nanami is in the kitchen at the moment cooking you breakfast as you’re showering both of you getting ready for the day. You both don’t have much planned besides going grocery shopping which is a great shift from a couple of months ago. You finally quit your job working at the club and you are currently trying to figure out your dreams and aspirations for life.

“KEN?!” You yell from upstairs, Nanami drops what’s he’s doing and is instantly up the stairs and by your side. “OH!” You jump when you realize he’s next to you out of pure shock. “You scared ME! Where’s my lotion?” You exclaim before asking your question bashfully bowing your head as you blush softly. Nanami chuckles as he walks to the bathroom and pulls it out of a drawer which is where he saw it last. “THAT WAS NOT THERE WHEN I WAS LOOKING FOR IT, but thank you!” You whine out loudly before crossing your arms across your chest and pouting softly.

“Of course, princess. Also, your breakfast is ready,” he states chuckling in between kissing you on the forehead. “I made you Japanese soufflé pancakes with blueberries your absolute favorite,~” Nanami says cooing in your ear before nibbling and sucking on it a little. It’s been hard for him these past couple of months but he keeps it together out of respect for you and by getting off just by thinking about you. Thinking about your moans, your soft skin under his, and those beautiful eyes full of desire. He’s been craving you so much Nanami feels like he’s about to explode waiting for your ‘okay’ for him to demolish you.

You hum in excitement as you hurry to get dressed putting your lotion on and slipping on a silk nightgown. You walk down the stairs skipping a few steps to get to the table faster Nanami following right behind you. You take your respective seat that you sat in every day dancing as you take your first bite. Nanami smirks as he takes his seat coffee in hand just taking in all your beauty. You liked to wear sexy stuff around the house which made it 10x more difficult for Nanami but he was able to revel in your beauty. While you were in a coma your friend Trina took care of your hair coming by every couple of weeks to wash it and braid it into cornrows. Now your hair was long reaching your mid back once you were able to stand you gave yourself a silk press. Nanami adored watching you do your hair or watching Trina do it-it was so interesting and impressive to him. Nanami is sucked out of his thoughts as he hears you get up to take your plate to the sink.

“Thank you handsome,~” you say seductively as you walk closer to him after putting your dish away. You come behind Nanami’s chair rubbing down his chest as it was bare and you lay your chin on his shoulder. Your soft hands massaging up and down his muscular torso were driving him mad. Nanami bites his inner cheek as his ears begin to turn red. You take notice and bite his earlobe softly before licking up and down his neck. “I haven’t touched you in a while, you haven’t touched me. I’m aching for you Ken. I know you want some relief,~” you whisper in his ear in a steamy tone before coming around to see his face. Nanami is blushing hard same as his dick; just you touching him has made him pre cum slightly stains his lounge pants he was wearing.

“I miss you, princess,~” Nanami says in a deep voice trying to keep himself under control.

“Then show me…” you tease before licking his cheek and strolling away back upstairs throwing off your nightgown. Nanami wanted to rip it off but seeing you naked will be amazing in itself. He’ll never forget the first time you guys had sex or how you touched him; it made him feel alive.

Nanami makes his way up the stairs stripping slowly first the lounge pants, the socks, and lastly the boxers. He strokes his dick as he walks into the room; you’re sprawled across the bed fully naked. Nanami can’t help but stare at you for a moment smiling as you play with yourself. “You ready princess? We haven’t had sex in a while, it might hurt a little..” he explains softly as he inches closer to you truly mesmerized by the show. As Nanami closed the space between the two of you-you begin spreading your legs more showing the wet mess you’ve become.

“I know daddy, but I’ve gotten so wet just thinking about you.” You purr as you continue to rub your clit tilting your head back slightly from pleasure. Nanami bends down hooking you by your lower back as he drags you to the end of the bed. Now on his knees, he begins to lick and suck on your folds staying away from your clit.

“Continue to play with yourself my love, I’ll do the rest.” He explains before going back down lapping up your juices he then sticks his tongue inside you. You jump at the new sensation moaning loudly then fall back even more not being able to keep control. Nanami grins before replacing his tongue with two fingers thrusting into you making you mewl loudly. “Such a good girl. Who are you good for, my love?~” Nanami inquires looking up at you and you're breathless as you moan loudly. But he then stops and pulls his fingers out suddenly.

You whine before lifting your head up; “you Kento, you.” You whisper in a breathy tone before falling back down out of pure overstimulation and arousal. Smirking he slips three fingers in this time and sucks your folds making you buck your hips. Nanami notices you stopped playing with yourself and starts sucking on your clit. You grip at his hair and start bucking your hips harder into his face but Nanami stops you by gripping your hip with his free hand. While quickening the pace he slips another finger in trying to prep you and you clench hard around his fingers as juices start overflowing and dripping down his fingers. He licks it up before attacking your clip again as if it wasn’t already swollen. With all your might you buck your hips one last time screaming loudly as you began to cum all over Nanami’s face. He laughs softly fingering you till you came all the way down before kissing your clit softly making you squirm under him.

“Sadly princess you didn’t follow instructions, you were supposed to play with yourself the whole time. You know what that means right?~” Nanami says in a steamy tone crawling up onto the bed and maintaining eye contact the whole time.

You shift under him before you answer; “punishment.” You say softly and before you know it Nanami has you bent over his lap. He would find any excuse to spank you a little he loved to see your ass jiggle.

“Count for me, my love.” Nanami commands before spanking you hard making the sound bounce off the walls.

“1,” you yell out biting on your bite and trying not to squirm he hated when you squirmed. “2,” smack, “3,” smack, “4-4,” smack.

“Say it again I couldn’t hear you,~” Nanami hums before spanking you again.

“4,” smack, “5,” smack. He helps you up before making you lie down on your back. He wanted to see all of you, every facial expression, every gasp for air, and seeing you go dumb from getting ruined. Kissing you on the forehead Nanami swipes his dick at your slick entrance before slowly thrusting into you. Still kissing your forehead he thrusts every inch into you making you gasp every time and gripping on his shoulders. “Such a good girl,~” Nanami praises before doing one last thrust deep inside of you. You claw at his back and throw your head back as it’s a mix of pain and pleasure. He stays still for a moment to help you get accustomed to his length and overall size.

“Move daddy please..” you plead softly rubbing the back of his neck now with your hands. He nods before gripping your hip with one hand and massaging one of your breasts. Nanami’s thrust starts out slow pace as a precaution but you nod like you know what he’s thinking and he starts to pick up the pace. You moan loudly as his dick begins to hit your cervix making him smirk softly. “You feel so good daddy I’ve missed you being inside of me,~” you purr grabbing his hand that was on your breast and making him cup your face. Now smiling Nanami cups your cheek starting to thrust deeper and faster into you. You begin to gasp for air trying to grab onto something and settling on the sheets. Nanami bites his lip as he leans down towards you planting his hands on either side of you.

“I’ve missed you more,~” he whispers in your ear before kissing and biting your neck leaving love bites all over before moving to the other side. This makes you clench harder around him and arch your back slightly. He uses a free hand to cup your ass then asks in a breathy tone; “can I choke you my love?” You nod ‘yes’ and him not caring to do the extra ‘let me hear you say it’ he just begins to choke you softly drilling deeper into you. You groan loudly as you cream around Nanami's dick again and like last time now he is chasing his release. He lets go of your throat to move your legs on top of his shoulders. You gasp at the new feeling it gives as he plows into you not giving you a chance to breathe or catch your breath. “Just a little longer love, fuck you’re so tight,” Nanami groans out in between kissing on your leg. He then starts biting your ankle slightly not knowing what to do to control his hunger for you. Within minutes he cums all inside of you painting your inner walls full of his seed. Nanami thrusts into you every now and then getting every last drop out before pulling out. He watched as both of your juices mixed together and begin to ooze out of your now empty pussy. You smile sleepily as you put your finger inside swirling it around before pulling it out and sucking on it. Nanami can’t help but just watch as you do so his dick twitching as you made eye contact with him. You sit up and crawl to the edge of the bed grabbing his dick into your hand.

“I can help clean you up daddy but only if you let me…” you coo kissing up and down his length that’s twitching at each touch. He nods hair falls into his face as he looks down at you. You go from kissing to licking up and down his length looking straight back at him. You take his sore swollen tip into your mouth swirling it around your tongue before bobbing your head. Nanami throws his head back placing his hand on the back of your head not applying pressure because he didn’t have to. You took his full length into your mouth not using your hands as you hollowed out your cheeks. Swirling your tongue underneath his length while simultaneously playing with his balls was throwing him through a loop.

‘Fuck why didn't I let her suck my dick sooner…’ Nanami thinks to himself as he feels you deep throat his dick making your nose brush up into his pubic hair. Nanami looks down as you're still looking up at him slobber all on your chin and around his dick. You begin to quicken the pace and the lewd sounds start to echo through the house as Nanami grunts and groans loudly. Smiling you pull away making him moan softly you then kiss his tip and lick the slit teasing him to no end. Nanami feels a shiver go down his spine and his dick twitches as he uses force pushing your head down onto his dick making you cough slightly. He lets you bob your head before coming deep down your throat while groaning your name and as he does so. Nanami makes sure you get every last drop so he continues bucking his hips until satisfied. You open your mouth slowly showing all the cum you are about to drink.

“Good girl, swallow.” Nanami commands breathless while watching as you keep your mouth open and swallow making the cum disappear. He helps you up before guiding you to the bathroom, “I love you, y/n…” he whispers in your ear before drawing a bath for the two of you.

You hum softly before purring, “I love you more Ken.” You then smile up at him before rolling off the bed. You make your way to the bathroom and drag Nanami along closing the door behind the two of you. Nanami goes over to the tub and starts the water making sure to add bubbles for the two of you to bathe together. You both hug onto each other while you wait for the water and bubbles to rise. Once the water is at a good level you both sit in the bath and Nanami follows steps in to sit behind you-you move slightly forward to make space for him to get in. Once he’s behind you completely you lean back into him then tilt your head back into him too.

“Thank you for bringing me here. It’s been nice to finally relax, not be scared, or trying to survive to get by.” You vent out as you play with bubbles with one hand and hold Nanami’s hand with the other. “You kept your word..” you say trailing off at the end as you look up at him; he can see the tears pooling in your eyes and smiles at you softly.

“I’m glad I could do this for you and like I said you deserve it. You mean the world to me, y/n I’ll do anything to make sure you’re happy.” He expounds squeezing your hand as reassurance. Nanami kisses your hair before you lean forward grabbing both of your washcloths and pouring liquid soap into both. “Do you need your shower cap?” He inquires as he gets up to grab it as it’s on the counter.

“YES! OH MY GOD!” You exclaimed as you stopped everything that you were doing. Nanami chuckles getting back into the bath and handing it to you. You pass him your wash cloth slowly putting on your shower cap as your hands aren’t too wet once you're done you go back to grab your wash cloth but Nanami is already scrubbing your back. You hum in appreciation as you close your eyes as he grabs your breastplate so he can hold you still.

“I never told you what happened to those two felons. I can tell you if you want to know?” Nanami asks out of the blue truly catching you off guard. You stand still practically frozen and just nod your head ‘yes’ in agreement so he continues. “I called the police while I was on the way to get you and as I took you to the hospital they apprehended the two. While you were in the hospital I explained to them what happened; they did an investigation. And come to find out you weren’t the first woman they did this to. I’m glad Toji saved you when he did the other women that came forward with their stories were…gut wrenching. They’ll both be in prison for a long time and won’t be able to hurt you anymore…” Nanami explains as he moves on to washing the rest of your body and you fall silent.

“Thank you…” is all you can muster just staring forward not saying a word until you both were done bathing and drying off. “I want to talk to Toji..” you blurt out taking your shower cap off and switching it out for a bonnet as you bow your head deep in thought not being able to look at Nanami.

“Of course, princess. I’ll get in contact with him and invite him over; is tomorrow good?” Nanami offers before asking his question and you nod ‘yes’ in agreement. Still silent you slip on the same nightgown you had on earlier and crawl into bed. “Would you like a cigarette lovely you look troubled?” He suggests pulling a cigarette out of the vintage musical cigarette dispenser he got you as you’ve been begging for one for a while now. Once again nodding ‘yes’ you part your lips for him to tuck it in between before he sparks it for you.

You take a long drag heaving out a painful sigh as you exhale.“Come lay with me…” you command patting the side of the bed he usually sleeps on. Nanami slips a pair of boxers and lounge pants on before plopping on the bed after grabbing a cigarette himself. Before he can spark it you snag the lighter out of his hand lighting it for him and he smirks inhaling and then exhaling just as slow. You guys smoke in silence for a while before you put yours out cuddling into Nanami’s chest and falling asleep again. It was only noon at the moment but he couldn’t make himself disturb you at all.

‘I guess grocery shopping is off the table for today…’ Nanami thinks to himself as he rubs your side softly.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*𝑀𝐼𝒩𝒪𝑅 𝒯𝐼𝑀𝐸𝒮𝒦𝐼𝒫 𝒯𝒪 𝒯𝐻𝐸 𝒩𝐸𝒳𝒯 𝒟𝒜𝒴 𝑀𝒪𝑅𝒩𝐼𝒩𝒢 𝒯𝐼𝑀𝐸 | 𝒯𝒪𝒥𝐼 ’𝒮 𝒫𝒪𝒱✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Nanami texted him yesterday that you requested to talk to him to say he wasn’t excited to see you would be a lie. He missed you and actually missed taking care of you but it was nice to have Megumi back home. After everything happened Nanami paid Toji ¥700,000 yen for protecting you and saving you. It helped him a lot and Toji was able to put his son into a private school in Tokyo where Megumi was able to finally make friends. Nanami also let him keep the car as he said ‘I don’t need it..’ and of course, Toji took it-it was better than walking.

As he pulled into you and Nanami’s driveway his mouth dropped; this house was huge. ‘I mean a pretty and sweet girl like her deserves the world so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised..’ Toji thinks to himself as he parked the car and got out of the car. Strolling up to the door before he could even knock you swing the door open grinning from ear to ear.

You jump onto Toji hugging him around his neck, “I missed you Toji..thank you for saving me.” You whisper into his ear leaving him in shock he then slowly starts to wrap his arms around you not sure if he should or shouldn’t.

“Toji, I see she missed you,” Nanami says greeting Toji before chuckling slightly and turning back into the house.

‘This is too good to be true..’ Toji thinks as you let go holding his hand and leading him into the house. Just like the outside the inside is breathtaking; she leads him to the couch and pushes him so he’ll sit down. When he does she plops down next to him as Nanami makes a pot of coffee.

“So, what did you wanna say to me that I had to come all the way out here?” Toji inquires still looking around the house from the couch really eyeing the walls.

“I wanted to formally thank you for helping me and alerting Kento. Who knows what would’ve happened if you both didn’t act so quickly.” You explain looking straight at Toji he catches your eyes mesmerized just as he was the first time. Your eyes are full of love, calmness, and warmth which was a great shift from what they were beforehand but they had a hint of lust. He tries to ignore it before he realizes you’re touching his arm suddenly Nanami comes and sits down in an admirable chair passing everyone a cup before leaning back and sipping his. You don’t stop touching Toji which confuses him; he glances at Nanami who just nods in agreement at Toji.

‘What the actual fuck is going on?’ Toji questions himself before he feels you snake your hands lower as the nod wasn’t for Toji but for you.

“Okay, brat what do you have planned?” Toji teases looking dead at you now making you shift under his gaze. He loves to see you melt or squirm as he knows you always feel his gaze.

“Toji, will you have a threesome with me and Nanami? I’ve known you’ve liked me and I like you, Nanami doesn’t mind he’ll enjoy it…~” You coo at Toji palming the tent growing in his pants making him bite his lip.

Toji runs your request through his head before nodding ‘yes’; “I’ve always wanted to do a threesome. You better be ready to get ruined by two men brat.” Toji teases smirking before looking at Nanami for confirmation.

Nanami smiles putting his cup down before speaking. “Yes Toji, don’t worry she told me first and asked me and I agreed.” Toji grins before looking back at you who’s practically devouring him with your eyes. “I have a surprise for everyone follow me..” Nanami states standing up and walking to the other end of the room you all follow before congregating in front of a door. Nanami pulls a key out and unlocks it beckoning you both to go in. Toji goes in first and chuckles softly as you walk in next and gasp with excitement.

“Woahhhh, Nanami you’re so full of surprises!” You yell as you jump on top of the deep crimson red bed that’s in the center of the room. “When did you do this?” You inquire looking around the room as your curiosity grows.

“It’s been done love I just wanted to save it for a special moment…” Nanami explains before closing the door behind himself. Toji takes a look around walking slowly looking at all the sex toys adorning the walls and inside of a glass cabinet. From wooden paddles, to rope, to butt plugs they were everywhere in this room.

“You ready?” Toji asks turning to you who was already naked as Nanami tied you to the bed. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’,~” Toji teases seductively as he walks towards the bed. “You know I thought about this for a while now..” he confesses quietly while trailing his finger up and down your torso.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*𝒮𝐸𝒳 𝒟𝒰𝒩𝒢𝐸𝒪𝒩 𝒢𝐸𝒯𝒯𝐼𝒩𝒢 𝒯𝐼𝐸𝒟 𝒰𝒫 | 𝒴𝒪𝒰𝑅 𝒫𝒪𝒱✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Seeing Toji so lustful for you was an unknown feeling for you, you could melt under his gaze. Your limbs are tied to each bedpost Nanami tests if it’s too tight and if it’s secure. After making sure both men begin to strip; they’re two bodies being super similar but also so different. They both have a similar stature, similar body type super muscular but the difference is that Toji has scars all over his torso. You stare at his body looking him up and down as you study his scars. Two big scars make an ‘X’ on his chest, a couple on his upper arms, and a gunshot wound near his stomach. Toji chuckles as you gawk at him making him snap his fingers to get you out of your deep thoughts.

“You just gonna keep staring?” Toji teases making the first move by crawling on the bed. His eyes fixated on your wet slick entrance staring back at him, Toji swipes his fingers up and down your entrance making you buck a little. He chuckles to himself before toying with your clit rubbing it in a circular motion and spitting on it every now and then. Nanami stands by your head slapping his dick on your face as he leans onto the bed supporting himself by grabbing the headboard with his right hand. You smile up at him before kissing his tip and taking his whole length into your mouth bobbing your head slowly. You wanted to drag every bit of cum out of him slowly swirling your tongue under his dick making him buck softly.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*𝐹𝐿𝒜𝒮𝐻𝐵𝒜𝒞𝒦 𝒯𝒪 𝒴𝐸𝒮𝒯𝐸𝑅𝒟𝒜𝒴 | 𝒩𝒜𝒩𝒜𝑀𝐼 ’𝒮 𝑀𝐸𝑀𝒪𝑅𝒴 𝐹𝐼𝑅𝒮𝒯 𝒫𝐸𝑅𝒮𝒪𝒩✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

I watched as she fluttered her eyes open yawning softly before sitting up slowly. “You slept well?” I inquired rubbing her head softly and then kissing her cheek.

You nod ‘yes’ before turning to me, “I want to do more than just thank Toji, I want to have that threesome now.” You just blurted it out just waking up which stunned me but I smiled at you rubbing your cheek.

“You know it’ll be rough right? We won’t be holding back on you princess,” I ask looking her in her eyes searching to see if y/n has any apprehension about the idea. I had a lot planned for the day you said ‘you wanted a threesome’ and I guess tomorrow will be the day.

“Yes, I’m touched starved from being in the coma!” You exclaim pouting a little which makes me chuckle before I nod my head in agreement.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*𝐵𝒜𝒞𝒦 𝒯𝒪 𝒲𝐻𝐸𝑅𝐸 𝒲𝐸 𝐿𝐸𝐹𝒯 𝒪𝐹𝐹 | 𝒴𝒪𝒰𝑅 𝒫𝒪𝒱✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You hollow your cheeks out making lewd noises as you bob your head a little faster now. You softly begin to moan as Toji begins to finger you which made things more difficult for Nanami. He fingers you at a quick pace with his rough and calloused fingers which felt surprisingly amazing inside of you. As Toji stuffed you full with 3 fingers Toji suddenly leans up with his head now inches from your breast. Nanami now bucks his hips deep down your throat forcing you to relax to further please him. Nanami curses softly as he tilts his head back and starts to grip the back of your head. You mewl around his dick as Toji begins to suck on your pointy nipples switching from one to the other and starting to curl his fingers into you. You pull away from Nanami as your stomach begins to become warm and the coil inside you tightens.

“Don’t stop sucking pretty girl.~” Nanami commands grabbing your face and stuffing his dick back into your mouth shocking you and making you gag which only makes him buck his hips harder. While moaning around Nanami’s dick you buck your hips as you cum. You shower Toji’s lower torso with your juices making him chuckle as he pulled away from your now swollen nipples. Toji continues to finger you till you ride out your high he then pulls them out before sucking his fingers clean.

“You taste so sweet,~” Toji praises before he gets off the bed completely once satisfied and goes towards the glass case. He pulls out a vibrator, lube, and butt plug your eyes widen with excitement as you see what he’s grabbing.

Just as you look up at Nanami he looks down at you looking drunk from lust; “you are doing so well continue to be a good girl and we’ll reward you.~” Nanami explains in a breathy tone still bucking deep down your throat as tears begin to roll down your cheeks. Nanami’s dick twitches in your mouth as he hits the back of your throat cuming down it and painting your esophagus with his thick hot cum. You open your mouth as he pulls his dick out of it showing off the cum making bubbles gargling it like mouthwash. “Fuck, princess swallow.” He commands while stumbling backwards and you do as he says swallowing every last drop. Toji unties your legs and pushes them up to your chest showing off your glistening pussy and tight asshole.

“Come look at this Nanami…” Toji says beckoning Nanami to look at the artwork in front of them. Your love spot just clenches and unclenches as it’s empty and yearning to be stuffed. “So gorgeous,~” Toji praises as he licks up the juices that are dripping from your waterfall of a cunt. Both men get mesmerized by how beautiful you look showing all your holes staring for what felt like ages. Suddenly you feel a cold liquid being rubbed on your puckering hole and you squirm a bit making Nanami smack your ass.

“Stay still my love it’s just lube. Make sure to relax your lower half so it won’t hurt as much, okay?” Nanami explains before asking if you are okay you nod ‘yes’ which makes him smirk at you. “You know you must use your words, princess,” he states patting you on the head.

“Yes, yes daddy I understand..” you say closing your eyes and focusing on relaxing. But just as you do you feel Toji’s finger probing your insides trying to get it used to the feeling. You moan softly biting your lip trying not to squirm soon another finger accompanies the first one stretching your asshole further. Toji looks inside your now slightly gapping asshole and then spits in it making it pucker up. He makes a ‘tsk tsk’ sound with his tongue before rubbing the buttplug at your tight entrance. Slowly pushing it in till your hole swallows it letting the bejeweled part sparkle under the low LED lighting.

“Good job brat, you ready to suck me off. I might be the longest you’ve ever had,” Toji praises before standing up showing off his long girthy dick. It was definitely longer than Gojo’s and you felt like you were going to break during that so this was beyond you.

You gawk at it as both men switch positions; “ you ready princess?” Nanami asks swiping his tip at your slick entrance which makes you squirm slightly. “Remember what I said,~” he coos in your ear before thrusting suddenly into you making you yelp as the pain mixes with ecstasy. Nanami begins to thrust into you making the headboard hit the back of the wall demolishing your walls already. He makes sure to invade every inch of your pussy making you gasp for air as your legs are on his shoulders. The wet sounds of your parts colliding fill the air before you could even start to enjoy it Toji turns your head to his horse like appendage you’d call a dick.

“Relax that throat of yours,~” Toji teases seductively before rubbing his tip on your lips. You part your lips inviting him in which only excites him; Toji bucks his hip thrusting only half of his dick down your throat.

‘How is this even possible? I don’t know if I can take all of him? I bet he’s 12 inches long, fuck!’ You think to yourself as you try to take Toji as far as you can before gagging. Toji once again only takes that as a sign to go deeper grabbing the back of your head and looking down at you smirking deviously.

“Take it all you slutty brat,~” Toji says in a steamy voice as he began to buck his hips to reach the deeper depths of your esophagus. You moan as Nanami continues to drill into you not really giving you room to react as every thrust is right after the other at the fastest pace he’s ever fucked up.

“You’re so tight for me princess, fuck. Do you like fucking two men at once?~” Nanami groans resting his head on your feet as he continues to thrust deeper and deeper into you almost breaking your cervix. You moan around Toji’s dick making him grunt as almost all of him is deep in your throat making him grin.

“I think she does, this isn’t her first rodeo,” Toji says in a breathy tone gripping your head a little tighter not too tight knowing some spots still have to be slightly sore. You moan in agreement before looking up at Toji's eyes yours full of tears as they start to fall down your face. “Such a good brat keep it up I’ll bless you with my cum,~” Toji teases as he bucks a couple more times before throwing his head back. “Fuck-k, y/n!” Toji groans as his dick twitches he then grabs the headboard thrusting faster into your throat. You close your eyes focusing on breathing through your nose. Within the next couple of brutal thrusts he cums deep into your throat as you choke cum comes out of your nose and sides of your mouth. “Awww swallow like a good brat,” Toji says loosing his grip on the headboard and starting to stand up straight. His dick slips out of your mouth with a popping sound as cum spills out of your mouth. “Haha made her go mute, swallow it before you choke on it,” Toji teases while laughing stroking his dick and getting ready for round 2. You do as he says swallowing then choking a little as his cum was thick and filled your mouth to the brim. But as you finish you gasp for air then moan loudly as Nanami puts your legs to the side getting sloppier with his thrust.

“I’m about to cum princess then we’ll stuff you full with both of us,” Nanami says in between grunts placing one hand on your legs to make your pussy tighter and the other on your throat. You mewl loudly as your stomach tightens and you buck your hips into him making him smirk. Soon after Nanami spills his seed deep into you making you both groan with happiness as the feeling of his hot cum feels your insides. Nanami pulls out suddenly making you whine softly as the sudden emptiness makes you sad. Toji untied your arms before picking you up and plopping onto the bed with you in his arms. Nanami comes behind you and pulls you in between his legs kissing and nibbling your ear. Toji starts kissing up and down your neck going over your already pre-existing love bites from Nanami. Nanami strokes his dick behind you as he looks at you as you melt under Toji’s touch slightly jealous but still aroused. Toji begins to fondle your breast squeezing your nipples hard and making you gasp even louder. “Now you’re going to be fully demolished by two cocks at the same time you ready?” Nanami inquires whispering in your ear which sends shivers down your spine.

“Yes, daddy I’m ready..” you say smiling at the both of them. Toji shifts you to the point your bejeweled ass is seen now he slowly pulls to buttplug out which makes you moan softly. Once done he places you back into Nanami’s lap with your glistening pussy pointing at him ready to be ruined. Nanami picks you up really quick by your ass cheeks spreading them apart as he had already put some lube on his dick and slowly pushes you down on his dick.

“Fuck your ass hole is tight relax princess remember to relax…” Nanami coos in your ear slowly slipping into you soon his whole dick disappears into your ass. You groan and moan until he becomes still you try to get accustomed to this foreign feeling. You relax slightly and Nanami takes that as a sign he starts to thrust slowly into you. You moan gripping onto Toji as he starts to assume the position.

“Be a good brat don’t squirm it’ll only make it worse for you,” Toji warns thrusting half of his length deep inside your slick pussy. With a mixture of your juices and Nanami’s cum you were extra slipper making it easier for Toji. You clenched your teeth as this wasn’t what you expected but you loved the feeling. The feeling of being stuffed full of both men; two very handsome men at that. Toji quickens his pass as he pushes his whole length inside of you making you gasp for air which is short lived as Nanami picks up the pace as well. Toji thrusts in as Nanami thrusts out keeping a nice rhythm for a while, you’ve become silent just moan softly every now and then. The loudness of each body collides and juices being mixed is intoxicating enough. You’ve become overstimulated which is a first for you then out of nowhere Toji pulls out the vibrator turning it on the highest speed and placing it on your clit. “Hold this and don’t drop it, got it?” He asks clenching his fists as he leans over you slamming deep inside you. It felt as if he broke through your cervix and was rearranging your insides. As the vibrator meets with your swollen and pulsating clit you howl loudly throwing your head back onto Nanami’s shoulder.

“What did I tell you, princess? We wouldn’t be holding back,~” Nanami teases in your ear and all you can do is moan and groan. The two men thrust deeper and deeper into you becoming more and more sloppy with each thrust. You grab onto Toji’s back clawing at it with one hand as you feel your stomach warm up and tighten again for the third time today. You groan loudly as you buck your hips fluid spraying all over everyone as you are spent becoming a limp trembling mess on these two men.

“See, we fucked her dumb she can barely even moan!” Toji yells teasing you as he throws his head back grabbing your legs and putting them into the sky. He kisses your feet before whispering a string of curse words before releasing deep within you. It coats his whole dick oozing out the side of your pussy before he pulls out and it just spills out onto the bed. Toji scoops up the liquid that spills out with one hand and opens your mouth with his other hand. You lick his digits clean as you stare deep into his soul all he can do is smirk before you pull his fingers out making a pop. Nanami grabs your hips as he thrusts deeper into you making you scream before he paintings your asshole walls full of his cum. He slowly pulls out and lays you down as you are literally saying nothing just trembling as you’re a limp mess. Before you know it you’ve fallen asleep on the bed with cum coming out of both holes.

'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Once again I hope you enjoyed this one and can’t wait to upload the next chapter! Also let me know how you guys like the smut in this chapter. And IM HERE FOR ALL THE NANAMI & TOJI LOVERS! ♡ But, don’t forget to comment, leave feedback, leave a note, or anything truly. It’s all appreciated! ╰(⸝⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝⸝)╯

© ™TINYPROPHETT

[Please don't copy or plagiarize my work thank you. I don't own any rights to JJK and all photos are from pintrest or here I'll try to tag people if I can]

⟿ Link for my AO3 lovers: {also it’s 24 chapters posted on here}

⟿ Credit for the inspiration for the Chapter:

#Spotify #jjk #ao3 fanfic #ao3 author #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #nanami kento #nanami thirst #nanami x y/n #nanami fluff #nanami smut #nanami fanart #nanamin #nanami fanfic #toji x nanami x reader #toji smut #toji fluff #toji fanfic #dilf toji #toji x reader #toji x y/n #jujutsu kaisen smut #long reads #jjk fanart #fanfic #ao3 writer #ao3 recs #ao3 link #ao3 #threes0me

[lidiasloca]

more than this (azriel x reader)

summary: after Azriel and reader had a summer together, the last thing Az was expecting was to face her again. (angst).

previous chapter; next chapter

chapter four

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄☆

The girl runs into his arms, and Azriel tries to catch up with her swift movements. Then, he’s hugging her. 

Mor and you share a glaze, the fifteenth just today. Since when was Azriel so physical with anyone that wasn’t, well… anyone he didn’t have a romantic somewhat-relationship with? Mor seems just as surprised as you. 

But maybe… maybe he and Elain do have something.

You don’t let the thought linger. “Mor, I was thinking on going upstairs to train. Will you join me?” 

She nods, not daring a word. 

“Can I come?” Elain says, and moves away from Azriel to face you. “I’m Elain, Feyre’s sister.” 

Please no, don’t come. You try to smile friendly and say,  “I know who you are.” 

She returns your smile. “I don’t know who you are, though.”

She doesn’t mean it to be rude, you’re sure. Not with her sweet smile, and sweeter face, and sweetest voice. But, still, her question is a reminder how secret was the relation you and Azriel had. He’s comfortable enough with her to hug her like that, but not to name the girl he spent the whole summer with.

You swallow your hurt and don’t let your smile falter. “Y/n. I’m… Mor’s friend.”

“Oh,” she replies, her tone, one of surprise. “She’s never mentioned you.” You’re not so sure that she’s not trying to be rude now.

Since you’re not quite sure how to answer, your eyes move to their own accord to Azriel. You find nothing, though, no emotion. You feel stupid for thinking you’d find pity or… something in him. 

You should know better.

Mor coughs, making your eyes turn to her. “Elain, didn’t you say you wanted to start the Valkyrie training as well?”

No, no, no, no. You beg your friend with your eyes, but she’s looking at Elain. “Yes! I would love to.”

“Well, then go get changed. We’ll be waiting in the living room.” Oh, gods, no. 

Elain nods enthusiastically and starts walking to the door. But when she’s at the door, she pivots on her heels and looks at Azriel smirking. That type of smirk… it sets you on edge. 

“See you later,” she says, and the way her voice reminds you of when someone makes a dare. You hate it; her tone and the fact that she means to meet with him later. 

Fortunately, she’s at last gone. Unfortunately, now Azriel’s gaze is only directed to you. You try not to care much about it, or at least look like so. “Let’s go,” you tell Mor. 

Azriel finally decides to talk “Y/n,” he says, though it sounds like a question. But you don’t let yourself look at him as you leave, Mor leading the way. If he can stay silently when you want answers, so can you. 

“What was all of that about?” you whispers-shout to Mor, remembering how shocked she was, too, when Elain jumped to Azriel for a hug. Azriel. For a hug. 

“I have absolutely no idea.”

…

“Now, you will stretch,” Cassian tells the sweaty and exhausted three of you. The training had been a bit too much, taking into account that this was your first Valkyrie training. 

“Again? But we already stretched in the beginning,” you complain, barely feeling the muscles on your legs.

“Because, Y/n,” Elain -Elain- starts. “It will help relax tense muscles, among other things, of course.” She smiles tenderly. That smile.

“Exactly,” Cassian says. “Ladies, I have to go now to another group, okay? But you keep stretching a bit more.” And then he’s gone. 

“How do you know that, Elain; I thought this was the first time you trained.” Mor asks her, leaning to her leg. You do the same, feeling a bit of pain in your leg. 

“It is,” she replies. “But Azriel taught me that; about stretching after a workout.” She glances at you and adds sweetly, “or any activity of the sort.” 

What? You have to force your jaw not to literally drop. You turn to look Mor, and see she’s doing the exact same. 

But cute little Elain just giggles. “I’m joking.”

Yeah - sure. 

Your curiosity gets the best of you as you ask, almost beg, with your eyes to Mor. She knows you well, and immediately understands what you want from her: “Umm… Azriel and you, Elain. What… well, are you something?” she asks and smiles shyly, so unlike her. “Just curiosity.”

Elain moves her gaze to the floor, a coy smile forming on her face. She hums and then says, “Well, it’s pretty secret, -you know Azriel-, but we… sort of have something.” She at last looks up at us, at you, her smile still there. “Is it that obvious?”

You want to strangle someone.

Is it that obvious? That voice.

As you try to not hit someone, the anger glowing inside you uncontrollably, Mor seems more inclined to silent shock. You two might look interestingly scary from Elain’s point of view. 

“Oh,” Mor gets out. “That’s…” She coughs again, trying to say something.

But you get your words faster. “For how long?” You know Azriel isn’t that kind of male. But… it hasn’t been so long since summer ended, and then, the Azriel you knew doesn’t feel like the Azriel you know now.

And now… now, you wouldn’t bet on it. 

Elain seems like she’s thinking, counting. Gods - you can hear your heart beating near your throat. “Somewhere in May,” the girl says eventually. “It sort of feels like a fever dream,” she adds, giggling. 

No.

You stand up quickly, not bothering with an excuse, as you make your way to your room. 

…

It feels like you’ve been crying for weeks, and you have the feeling you look like it, too. But it’s only been a few minutes that you’ve been curled in the bed, bawling your eyes.

There’s this horrendous mix of sadness and guilt in your heart, and they feel physically painful, like an acute stab in your heart. And another, and another. They keep coming. Especially because the room still has the scent of both Azriel and Elain. And that just makes you overthink the more. 

Mor had knocked on the door, but you hadn’t opened, just told her you needed to be alone. But once she had gone, you regretted not asking her to winnow you to your apartment. Or somewhere away from these people. 

Almost in cue to your prayers, you hear a knock on the door. You run to it, but recognize the scent, and stop your hand from touching the handle.

“Nesta?”

“Can you open?” And you do. Her eyes pierce your face, and you can make out how bad you look by the way she assesses you. “Mor told me…” She tries again, “I can get Cassian here. So he can fly you.”

You nearly drop to your knees in thankfulness. But you remain somewhat calm, and nod before muttering, “thank you, Nesta.”

…

Luckily for you, Cassian only asks you one question, and it isn’t one you don’t want to answer. “Where?”

You let him take you in his arms as you think your answer. “The day court.”

He gives you a firm nod, one that makes you think he’s been warned, or threaten, by Nesta. The thought lightens something in your heart, though tears are still on your face. 

After what feels like eternity, you enter the Day Court. Then, you commence indicating him to the palace, where you’re expecting to find your old friend. That, if he’s not busy with his High Lord’s duties or… other deals that always have him busy. 

You finally land, and Cassian gives you an incredulous look, “Helion’s palace?” You nod again, still not confident with talking too much. “Helion?” he asks again, more to himself than to you. 

“What about me?” the High Lord asks, making the both of you turn to him. You waste no time, going in for a hug. It had been a long time since you had last seen him. “Missed you, too, sweetheart,” he says against your hair. 

It’s all too warm, the bubble you feel yourself in when in his arms. But Cassian is still there, waiting. You let go of Helion, who looks at you so sweetly. Genuinely sweetly. 

 “Thank you, Cassian.” 

He nods again, and seems to debate himself before saying, “Azriel… he has been speaking to me the whole fly. He, well, he wants to talk with you. He wants to know where you are.”

The pain is again there. 

But so is Helion, who grabs your hand, as if he could sense how you are feeling. He always knows, when it comes to you, after all. 

“Cassian, please. Don’t tell him. I need to be alone.” You don’t even know why on earth would he want to see you. This is a win for him, never having to see you again. But you don’t want to think about anything related to him. 

“But, Y/n,” he replies. “Azriel told me-”

“It doesn’t matter what he told you,” Helion interrupts. “It only matters that she’s saying she doesn’t want him here, understood?”

Cassian seems shocked at how serious Helion is, since he usually isn’t. Unless it’s an important matter. Something like comfort glows in your chest. Loving comfort. That bubble again. 

Cassian nods, yet again, and then takes off flying.

“Come on, let’s get you to your room, sweetheart.”

You turn to your friend. “Is it really still my room?”

“What do you mean? Do you think I would give a random guest your room?”

You stare at him and smile. “Thank you, Helion.”

-Characters by Sarah J. Maas

This was longer than usual, but there was a lot to unpack of what I have in mind with the story. Worry not, I'm pretty positive this is going to have a happy ending, hopefully. I have the next chapter pretty planed, so it shouldn't take too long for me to write it. random mention to the grudge by olivia rodrigo, cause it's right now playing and cause i love it sm. teenage dream is so great as well :)).

tag list:

@kalulakunundrum @bubybubsters @goradgirl @kennedy-brooke

#azriel x reader #azriel angst #azriel #azriel x female!reader #azriel x you #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x y/n #acotar fic #azriel fanfic #azriel fic #az imagine #azriel imagine

[strangersmunsons]

read 'em and weep #4

you hear some rumors about Eddie.

Chapter 4 Eddie x Bookworm!Reader Series Read Ch. 3 -> Here!

Contains: Eddie x Reader, fem!bookworm!reader, mix of fluff and angst, lots of kisses, reader realizes she may not know as much about Eddie as she thinks she does (but don't worry, they're gonna be fine). Warnings: some nasty remarks are made about Eddie’s reputation. Word Count: ~ 4.6k I feel bad that all this wait has led to an angstier chapter, but I'm hoping the next part will be written sooner than this one was!

“I disagree.” 

“Look, The Shining is really good, I like it! I just don’t think it’s his best book.”

“I’d take more stock in your opinion if you weren’t putting It at the top of your list. Great book, but such a terrible ending.”

Eddie holds a hand up like he’s swearing an oath. “I’ll admit that it isn’t a perfect book, but it’s still some of the best writing Stephen King’s ever done.” Then he grimaces. “The notable exception being that…one scene in the sewer, um…I don’t really think it needed to be in there.”

Your nose wrinkles in distaste, knowing exactly which scene he’s referring to. “I read that ABC is making a TV show out of it — I’m sure they’ll cut that part out.”

He laughs. “I think he was doing a lot of coke back then.”

Eddie is playing for you chauffeur today. Once again, after a late night he coaxed you into staying over at his place — but instead of just  dropping you at home the next morning and then leaving, he waited patiently for you in your living room while you got cleaned up and changed, before driving you to work.

“Although, now that I’m thinking about it,” he muses, “maybe The Stand is number one for me.”

You concur. “Oooh, good one!”

“Did you know,” he exclaims, suddenly excited, dark eyes shining, “that Ride the Lightning by Metallica is a reference to a line from The Stand?” 

You search for familiarity in the phrase, and don’t find it. “It is?”

“Yeah, there’s a guy on death row who says it when he’s talking about the electric chair. That's why there's a picture of one on the album."

“Huh. Cool.”

Eddie snubs his cigarette out against the library’s exterior brick wall as you fumble with the keys. When the big double-doors are both unlocked, he pulls one open for you, and you kiss him on the cheek as you breeze past. “Thanks. I’ll see you later, okay?” You pause, and reach back to give his hand a final squeeze. “Have a good day!”

Inside, you make it about halfway to the front desk before you realize that the unmistakable sound of Reeboks squeaking against the floor is following you.

You turn around, bewildered and amused. “Can I help you?”

Eddie just shrugs. “This is a public institution. I’m allowed in.”

“I didn’t realize ‘let me drop you off’ meant ‘let me come to work with you.’ Gosh, aren’t you tired of me yet?”

His reply is immediate. “No.”

The incredible thing is, you actually believe him.

You shake your head in awe. “Eddie Munson, you’re really somethin’, you know that?”

He leans in to kiss you one more time, soft and sweet, but you pull away before it can get too heated, keenly aware of the fact that you’re at your place of work, and that making out in full view of the entire — albeit currently empty — library? Probably a bad look.

Just in time, too, as Marissa was apparently not far behind you. You see the doors open again from over Eddie’s shoulder and the older librarian hurries into the building, low heels clacking noisily against the tile. Her face, which is seemingly-always pinched in annoyance, scrunches even further beneath her dark bangs when she realizes you’re not alone. 

“Good morning, Marissa,” you greet her politely.

“We’re technically not open yet,” she spits back, staring pointedly at Eddie. “He can’t be in here.”

You open your mouth to reply, but Eddie beats you to it. “My apologies, ma’am. I was just heading back out.” It’s a remarkably respectful response for Eddie, who you’ve learned has a general distaste for authority, and you know that it’s for your sake. 

He gives you the tiniest wave as he walks away, and you return it with a smile, though your heart pangs with each step that takes him further away from you.

After clocking in you make your escape to the children’s area. It’s practically its own library, in a way — it takes up the whole back corner of the building and then some. Hundreds of thin, colorful books are jam-packed onto the shelves, which are built at an intentionally low height. The floor is covered in deep green carpeting, in contrast to the elegant, black-and-white tile that lies in the main library; all the flat surfaces are topped with stuffed animals and puppets and other baubles for the kids to admire and play with.

In the center of it all, there’s a wide space that’s been cleared out for Story Times and various other programs, which is headed by the overstuffed armchair that you like to read from. A number of miniature tables and stools line the side of the area, which are dotted with neatly-placed baskets of craft supplies. 

You’re pleased with the theme for the day: amongst the books you’ve chosen there are copies of A Bear Called Paddington and Corduroy ready to go. Markers, buttons, googly eyes, and glue have been set out on the tables, so they can make their own little bears for the craft activity. You’ve taken the initiative of cutting out the teddy shapes from heavy cardstock for them already — one less accident with scissors you need to worry about.

You’re nearly finished setting up when someone clears their throat behind you. Startled, you whirl around to see Marissa again.

“Hello,” you greet her in surprise. She usually lets you do your thing on Saturdays without much interruption. Your take in her expression, a little puzzled; the look on her face suddenly makes you feel like you’re in trouble.

She gives you a tight smile, although it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Hello, dear. Everything going okay?”

“Ye-es…” Your answer drags out uncertainly. “Almost ready here.” You gesture unnecessarily around the room, unsure of what she’s getting at.

“Good, good,” she nods distractedly, not bothering to look and verify that you’re actually doing your job. “Listen, when you finish up this morning, come and find me. I want to have a little chat with you, alright?” Seeing the panic split across your face, she quickly adds, “Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble. It’s not work-related.”

Your head cocks to the side curiously, but she spins on her heel and leaves before you can ask her to elaborate.

The rest of the morning passes in a blur, Marissa’s request lurking in the back of your mind all the while, though you try to focus on your reading. She’s not really the warm and fuzzy type — somehow you doubt she’s interested in having a little girl-chat.

Some odd-two hours later, when the last of the kids have scampered away, you head cautiously back to the front desk where Marissa and another young clerk are speaking to one another in low voices.

Your coworker sees you approaching from over Marissa’s shoulder, and gives her a subtle nod, warning the older woman of your presence. A hush falls over their conversation, and you feel a stab of annoyance, knowing intuitively that whatever they were talking about, it certainly had something to do with you. 

She’s already blabbing to your coworkers about whatever this is? Gross. 

Marissa turns to face you, pretending to look surprised at your approach.

“You wanted to see me?” you ask her pleasantly.

Another one of those tight-lipped smiles. “Yes, why don’t you come back here with me.” She moves towards her office, waving for you to follow along. “A little more private in here,” she stage-whispers. 

When you’re alone in the tiny room, she shuts the door behind you, and takes a seat at her desk. You perch awkwardly on one of the folding chairs opposite her, clasping your hands on your lap — you feel a little bit like a wayward student in the principal’s office.

“Is…everything okay?” She said it wasn’t work-related, so you don’t have a clue what’s up. Surely if it was about Eddie being in the building before open, she would have reprimanded you earlier, when you were the only two people there. And that would be considered work-related anyway, wouldn’t it?

Marissa doesn’t answer immediately, so you try to be proactive. “If this is about my friend being here this morning, I’m so sorry about that. I promise it won’t happen again.”

“Not…exactly.” She purses her lips, not giving anything away. 

You blink, and try again. “Um, if this is about the oobleck thing again, I promise I was able to get it off the ceiling. You can check, it’s all clean.”

She almost cracks, a rare flash of amusement in her eyes, though it’s snuffed out quickly.

“It’s not that, either. I want to ask you about how things are going, just in general? I know you’re still pretty new to town. Have you been settling in okay these past few months?”

You think of the warm welcome you received from nearly everyone you’ve met. “Yeah, everything’s great. Everyone’s been really nice.”

She nods slowly, and when she speaks again, her tone is off — you can clock the feigned nonchalance right away. “I’ve noticed Eddie Munson has been here quite often this summer.”

You take this as confirmation of what you had already suspected — that Eddie’s frequenting of the library has more to do with you than anything else, and your lips can’t help but turn up into a fond smile.

“He likes to read,” you offer simply.

She’s more direct this time, eyes locking onto yours from behind her thick lenses. “He spends a lot of time talking to you while he’s here.”

Nervous heat starts to creep up your neck and into your cheeks. Is that what this is about? Has the quality of your work declined since Eddie started visiting you here? 

You’ve worried about this before. When your friendship began and he started coming in pretty regularly, you made a point that if Eddie was to be there, the distractions had to be kept to a minimum. He was very understanding about it. And in his defense, he did mostly keep out of your way — he sat and read, and chatted with you when you weren’t busy, or if you happened to be hidden away amongst the shelves working, out of Marissa’s sight. He even helped you clean up the mess left behind by your Storytime kids. But you suppose he had been a presence nonetheless.

Waiting for the hammer to fall, you bow your head. Your job is very important to you — as much as you like Eddie, you don’t want to jeopardize your position or your standing with your boss by having her think you’re boy-crazy. Guiltily, your mind scrambles to find the words for an apology, some promise to do better in the future.

But Marissa doesn’t even go there. And what she says instead startles you right out of your self-deprecating spiral.

“Do you know about Eddie Munson?”

Your head pops back up in surprise, and you stare at her blankly, confused. “Know…what about him?”

“Listen, you’re a nice girl,” she simpers. “You’re a stellar employee — I wouldn’t want anyone else leading Family and Youth Services here. I think you have a lot of potential, and I don’t want you to squander it by getting involved with the wrong sort of people.”

Offense rises in your throat like bile. “Excuse me?”

She holds her hands up in defense. “I’m just trying to look out for your best interests, dear,” she insists. “The Munsons have a reputation in this town — that young man especially —”

“Marissa,” your tone is sharp; she’s treading into dangerous territory. 

“He’s a criminal,” she warns. “Jim Hopper is far too soft on him. If he actually got in trouble for every law he broke, he’d be sitting in a jail cell right now.”

You gape at her. “What has he done?” you demand. 

Marissa sighs, and takes her glasses off, setting them aside while she massages the bridge of her nose tiredly. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this” — you note that she doesn’t really sound sorry at all — “but he is a drug dealer, and a Satanist, amongst other things. He sells dope to kids and he all but started a cult when he was in high school. The oldest senior in Indiana, by the way,” she adds derisively.

You’re speechless.

She pushes on. “His father was a deadbeat, and in all the time that Eddie Munson has been living in Hawkins, all he’s done is prove that the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, fuming. Her audacity is too appalling for you to have any real reaction to the accusations; and regardless of whether or not those rumors are true, this certainly doesn’t feel like an appropriate way for you to find out about them. 

You take a deep breath, and choose your words carefully. “Respectfully, who I choose to associate with outside of work is no one’s business but my own. If you feel like my relationship with him is infringing upon my performance here, then by all means, tell me where I’m lacking, and I’ll improve. But please do not sit here and try to convince me to shun my friend because —” you falter, trying to keep your anger in check, “because of your personal feelings towards him.”

Because you’re a Grade-A bitch who listens to small town gossip.

Marissa settles back in her seat, face impassive. She purses her lips. “Alright. I see your point. But don’t be upset, dear, I’m really only trying to help you.”

“I appreciate your concern,” you lie through gritted teeth.

“But before you make your mind up about him too quickly,” she adds, examining her fingernails casually, “ask him about Chrissy Cunningham.” Her eyes dart slyly up to yours, searching for any hint of recognition at the name.

There isn’t any — you’ve never heard of this person — but there’s an odd swooping sensation in your stomach at the mention of Eddie possibly being involved with another girl. It makes you feel sort of…ill. 

But you won’t let your face betray your surprise. You keep your expression neutral, composed. You manage a final nod at Marissa, and rise to leave. She doesn’t say anything to stop you, so you take that as your cue to exit the office, your mind swirling with unanswered questions.

Across town, at the Munson trailer, a Dungeons and Dragons session is set to begin any minute. Dustin Henderson has arrived early with snacks, and is making himself all too comfortable on the squashy sofa.

Hellfire Club had still gone on strong three years after Eddie’s miraculous, long-awaited graduation, due to the combined efforts of the small group of freshmen he recruited in his last year. And it will continue to do so even now that they’re gone, thanks to one Erica Sinclair, who is rumored to be the most brutal Dungeons and Dragons player in the entire Midwest…after Eddie, of course.

Despite the fact that he remained in Hawkins, and that Dustin often begged him to join them, Eddie had respectfully bowed out of any and all Hellfire-related activities after graduating, in an effort to display a modicum of maturity. He didn’t want to be that guy hanging around his old high school because he didn’t have anything better to do.

But as a favor to his favorite kid, Eddie’s DMing their summer campaign as a last hurrah. Just Wheeler, Henderson, Sinclair, and a slightly newer addition — Will Byers, who came after his time, but seems a nice enough kid. It gives the boys a chance to all play together one last time before they part ways.

Eddie hopes they manage to stay friends, despite it all.

“Thanks, Henderson, but I think I’ve got a handle on things,” Eddie says sarcastically.

Dustin gives him an annoyingly-superior look. “I’m just saying, Suzie and I have been in a loving relationship for many years now — if you need any dating advice, I’m your guy.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, and crosses his arms. “Dude, she’s spent almost all the time you’ve known her across the country in Mormonland.” 

Purely defensive. He hates to admit it, but Dustin’s right. He and Suzie’s relationship has lasted for a far, far longer time than any fling Eddie’s ever had. But that doesn’t mean he’s gonna sit down and let the little twerp talk to him like he knows something about something.

Little — Dustin Henderson is college-bound, heading off to some fancy private school on a merit scholarship, leaving Hawkins and grabbing life by the balls. He might still be a shrimpy dork, but Eddie’s secretly mourning the impending loss of his young friend.

“So,” continues Dustin, chomping on a Twizzler, lounging back against the cushions, “when do I get to meet her?”

Eddie chuckles, yanking the candy bag across the couch towards himself. “Uh, I don’t know. Whenever she wants to, I guess.”

Dustin snickers. “Would you be mad if I just showed up at her job and ambushed her?”

Eddie cuts his eyes over to the younger boy, wry smirk on his lips. “To be honest, I’m kind of surprised you haven’t done that already.”

“I haven’t been reading much this summer,” Dustin admits. “Too busy trying to cram in a bunch of stuff before we all…” he trails off, gaze growing distant. 

“Yeah,” Eddie mutters back. He’s been there.

Dustin coughs. “Anyway, you should invite her to meet us at Benny’s after this. You said you’re picking her up from work, right?”

Eddie thinks it over for a moment, then shrugs. “Sure. I’ll ask her.”

The rickety front door swings open, a trio of laughing teenage boys barging in without bothering to knock. Tall, gangling Mike; Lucas, smiling in his letterman jacket; and Will, hanging back shyly, clutching his player’s handbook.

Eddie can’t help but grin. Dustin cocks an eyebrow at them.

“You assholes ready or what?”

Throughout the entire day, you think about what Marissa told you. 

Yes, you’re angry at her for somehow thinking that would be an appropriate conversation for the two of you to have. Yes, you’re upset to hear her say such disparaging things about someone you’ve known to be nothing but sweet and kind. It feels like such an injustice, that Eddie be subjected to such cruel remarks. 

But still, there’s a sliver of uncertainty in your heart now, a dark cloud looming in the distance of yours and Eddie’s budding relationship. 

When your shift ends, you linger outside by the doors, waiting for Eddie to pick you up. A tiny part of you regrets the decision to let him bring you in to work, but you try and shake the feeling away.

You hate that you’re feeling this way. Internally, you scold yourself for letting Marissa’s words get to you. Why should you listen to what she says, anyway? Don’t you trust that you know him better than she does?

Do you believe Eddie to be a devil-worshipping cult leader? Certainly not. Eddie is a far cry away from what the media makes guys like him out to be. He’s not violent, or practicing any Satanic rituals; he just happens to like scary music and think that fantasy games are cool.

Do you believe Eddie to be a drug dealer? Well, that one, maybe…

Do you believe Eddie to have some sordid past — or, more worryingly, present — with someone named Chrissy Cunningham?

Before you can decide what to think about her, the sound of a wailing guitar drifts through the air, getting louder and louder — finally, a familiar green and white van is turning the corner, Eddie’s dark head, visible through the open windows, bobbing up and down in time with the music.

“Hey!” he shouts with a grin as he approaches the curb, yelling so as to be heard over the noise. With some effort, you smile back. He lowers the tape so it plays at a more bearable volume, as you open the door and climb into the passenger seat.

“Hi,” you greet him.

He leans across the center consol to give you a kiss, one calloused hand cupping your cheek. You can his smell cologne, the sweat beaded on his neck, and a faint smokiness clinging to his curls, you suppose, from his last cigarette; these, combined with how soft and plush his lips feel against yours push the thought of Chrissy Cunningham temporarily from your mind, along with any other thought you may have potentially had in this moment.

Eddie pecks at your lips again and again, then settles back in his seat, letting his hand fall onto your knee. “How was work?”

You squirm uneasily. “It was fine,” you half-lie, not sure what you should tell him. 

“Kids behaving?” he asks.

“About as much as I could expect them to,” you sigh.

Eddie gazes at you, his dark eyes curious; you’re normally much more upbeat than this when you see him after a long day. His face brightens when he remembers what he wanted to ask you, thinking that it may cheer you up. “Well, it’s all over with now, right? You’re free. And I had an idea, if you’re up for it.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” he explains, “I was thinking, I can take you home, or — if you want — you can come get dinner at Benny’s with me and the guys?” He smiles hopefully. “The others are on their way there already. They’re dorks, but they’re good kids, and Dustin has been bugging me to bring you around.”

You think it over. Admittedly, you’ve been dying to see how Eddie acts around his teenage friends. And maybe this is just what you need to dispel your discomfort; a night out with Eddie and his pals, surrounded by people who know and love him.

Eddie senses your hesitation. “We won’t be out too long,” he reassures you, “because I’m working tonight. But still, no pressure if you’re not up for it.”

He leaves the choice up to you, but he’s giving you the puppy dogs. You nod, giving in. “Okay,” you agree. “Sounds like fun.”

Being crammed in a diner booth with five other guys isn’t normally your idea of comfortable, but their raucous laughter and boyish antics make it just that — comfortable. You’re pushed up against the wall, with Eddie pressed into your side, one tatted arm slung over your shoulder. Dustin sits opposite you, with Will and Lucas; Mike occupies the last seat next to Eddie. 

The affection between the younger boys is tangible; this is a group of friends who have known each other a long, long time. They all talk at once, interrupting and speaking over one another, unless someone shoots a question at you, in which case, Eddie holds up a hand to silence them all, so your response can be heard.

Eddie interjects every so often, arguing playfully and poking fun at them, but he mostly watches with amusement, letting them carry the bulk of the conversation. It’s funny; he has the air of a cool uncle about him, the one who supervises carefully but also lets you sneak a sip from his can of beer when no one’s looking.

More than once, you notice Eddie glancing sidelong at you, watching your reaction to the spectacle before you. He smiles when you catch him, and squeezes your thigh under the table. 

“So you woke up early to take her to work, ran D and D all day, and now you’re going to work a late shift? Are you planning on going to sleep on top of the bar?” Dustin is staring at Eddie in disbelief.

Eddie shrugs. “I sleep all day on Sunday.” He suddenly flicks a french fry at Dustin across the table. “What can I say? I’m extremely devoted to all of you,” he says sarcastically.

“One of us, anyway,” snickers Lucas, nodding his head at you.

“And don’t you forget it,” Eddie replies sternly, tightening the arm he has around you, holding you as closely as the cramped space permits. Without an ounce of shame or embarrassment, he leans in and smacks a wet kiss to your forehead.

A chorus of “oooh”s erupts, along with one “gross!” and you can’t stop the happy smile from unfurling across your face. 

In this greasy diner booth surrounded by teenage boys, with Eddie so unabashedly declaring his affection for you, the pressure that’s been weighing on your chest since this morning dissipates almost completely.

“Ask him about Chrissy Cunningham.”

Almost.

The car ride home is quiet. Eddie has foregone his metal tapes, and instead lets the radio softly crackle out a tune from The Cure. Normally he’d switch the station in distaste, but something about it tonight just feels right. 

“You’re just like a dream…you’re just like a dream…”

You’re gazing out the window, seemingly lost in thought. He can’t stop sneaking looks at you, at the way your lips are parted, the slight furrow to your brow. He wants to kiss the worry-line away. 

“Everything okay?” 

Your eyes refocus on him, and you give him a half-smile. “Everything’s okay,” you tell him, looking back down again, twiddling your thumbs.

There’s a hitch in your voice that concerns him. “Tired?” he asks hesitantly, unsure if he should press the issue.

“Yeah, kind of. Things were…a little overwhelming today, I guess.”

Eddie frowns. “They should give you a helper or something. That’s a lot to deal with by yourself, even if it’s only for an hour or two.” He pulls up to the curb in front of your house, engine idling. Then he moves in for another kiss, gentler than any other he’s given you today. 

After just a few moments, you’re the one to break it, pulling back ever so slightly and leaving him wanting.

“Goodnight, Eddie,” you whisper, breath ghosting over his lips. You’re already reaching behind you for the door handle.

Eddie's caught off guard by the speed of your goodbye. “Goodnight,” he replies, dazed, sad to see you wrenching the door open so quickly, without the usual lingering kisses and touches he adores. 

You hop out and he watches your retreating back as you tread across the sidewalk towards the house. He leans over the center consol, towards the open passenger window. “Sweetheart?” he calls out.

You turn back to face him. “Yeah?”

He makes a come-hither motion with two ringed fingers. “Come here for a second.”

You double back and make your way around the vehicle, so you’re standing on the other side of Eddie’s door. With your arms propped against the sill of his window, you lean against the van, letting it support your weight.

You look at him expectantly, waiting.

He reaches out and touches your face, stroking his thumb across your cheekbone, savoring the feeling of your skin underneath the rough pads of his fingers.

“Thanks for coming with me tonight. I know I sort of sprung it on you,” he says apologetically.

You smile at him, warm though tinged with a sadness he can’t put his finger on. “I had fun. You’re right — they are nice boys.” 

Eddie sighs, still tracing your flesh. “Could I trouble you for one more kiss?” he asks quietly, blushing cheeks dimpling. “For the road?”

To his relief, you seem to melt a little, swaying lightly on your feet as you hold onto the sill and oblige him. 

Eddie’s other hand molds to the back of your head, cradling it in his palm as he kisses you one last time, urgency pervading all his senses, as though he might not get another.

When he releases you he's breathless, and he rests his forehead against yours for a moment, letting your noses rub together. Finally, he relaxes back in the seat.

“Get some sleep, honey,” he says.

thank you for reading!!

taglist: @eddiesgirlforever, @eds6ngel, @sheisahauntedhouse, @lokis-tardis-companion19, @teary-eyed-egg, @whenshelanded, @nanaminswhore, @witchwolflea, @kores-mun-son-n-more

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson reader insert #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson series #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction

[ohtobeleah]

Was It Over? // Jake Seresin

-> Chapter Eleven: [The Man]

Summary: When Jake and Jensen go head to head over who means what yo you, things escalate to new heights, so much so that Jake lashes out and says something that may not be forgiven.

Warnings: Sick!reader. Breast cancer diagnosis. Jake Seresin x F!reader. Angst, hospital & medical inaccuracies. SLOW BURN ROMANCE/ Inaccurate medical information. Relationship turmoil. Mentions of religion. JEALOUS JAKE!

Word Count: 5.6K

Author Note: This chapter brings the total word count of this series to 50k....I cannot believe that an idea that began as a one-shot has turned into this. Thank you all so much for your support on this one. xxx

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

There was a brief moment right before your shower where Jake was able to step out into the hall to call his sister Jasmine. He knew the call he was about to make was going to be neither short, nor pleasant. But he also knew that deep down, you weren’t mentally prepared to tell your children you were sick. But the pair of you had to start somewhere. And that somewhere was Jake’s sister. 

“What the FUCK is going on!” One single ring. One dial. That's how long it took Jake's sister to answer, hell, Jake thought it would have been sooner but he gave her a little good grace for potentially having to step out of whatever family dynamic she found herself in. “Mum said Y/n’s sick?” 

“Did she say it like that?” Jake replied unamused as he found an empty chair to sit on in the waiting room area down the hall. He didn't want to stray too far away from your room. Although he knew that you were with the nurses, he couldn't find it inside himself to leave. If Jake tried hard enough, he could still see your bed socks at the end of your hospital bed. 

“Uh–” Jasmine's apprehensive silence confirmed all Jake needed to know. “She may have said it with a little hope in her chest, mentioned the words dropped and dead in the same sentence of wishful thinking.” Jake couldn’t say he was surprised after the way Janeen had spoken so poorly about you directly to his face. He couldn't really imagine what she’d been saying to other members of the Seresin family. “But what's going on? I'm keeping an eye on the kids as much as I can but holy shit mum's just on a warpath–” 

Fuck: Jake knew leaving the kids behind was a bad idea on his behalf. The guilt of running off on his children in the middle of the night was beginning to eat him alive. The idea of lying to them about your condition only made that guilt harder to rationalise. 

“Okay, can you just promise me you won’t tell the kids?” Jake groaned into the phone. “Y/n doesn't want them to worry so she doesn't want to say too much.” 

“Jake–” Jasmine's voice changed, the serious nature of the conversation at hand was beginning to shine through with ease. “She's alright, isn't she?” Jasmine asked as Jake let his elbows rest on top of his thighs. This whole situation, the newly found world of which you were living in was begging to give Jake the head spins. Keeping up was exhausting, but this wasn't about Jake now was it. “This is Y/n we’re talking about, she has to be alright.”

Unbeknownst to you, Jake had been reading all your files, all your reports, everything and anything he could get his hands on about your diagnosis. After all, he had been named your emergency contact not long after showing up. He’d made a convincing case. Jake knew a lot about your current situation. He knew the odds, chances, risks and possibilities. 

“She's been diagnosed with Stage three A, triple positive grade three invasive doctoral carcinoma.” Jake explained to his sister who on the other end of the call, sat watching his youngest try to eat the sand from the sandpit Jake himself used to shit in as a child. “The oral chemo they had her started on caused a stroke, apparently it's a common side effect, to me they shouldn't be pumping people full of that crap if its gonna cause a fucking stroke forty percent of the time.” 

Jake knew the silence on the other end of the line was due to an overload of information getting caught in his sister's cerebellum. It was a lot to take in, hell Jake still hadn’t really been given an opportunity to take it all in. since he found out he’d been go go go. He knew an impending moment of weakness mixed with overall exhaustion was coming. When that moment would come he wasn't sure. 

“You’re lying–” Was all Jasmine said. Jake wished more than anything he could say he was. 

“Fucked up thing to lie about Jas–” Jake responded softly as he listened to the hustle and bustle of the hospital wing his sat in. “She hadn’t been feeling well for a few months, Doctors say it's aggressive, feeds off her hormones and stuff.” Jake didn't understand a lot of it, but he was trying his best to navigate a field he wasn't an excerpt in. “She's in for a preventative double mastectomy on Christmas Eve. It would've been earlier but the strokes kinda set her back a few days.” 

“Jake– I don't believe you, the kids–what about the kids, what do I tell them?” Jasmine couldn't comprehend the devastation this would cause on the already struggling family dynamic. You and Jake were meant to be, everyone knew that. But this whole separation, the miscommunication and overall fractures within your marriage were all major contributing factors as to why love just couldn’t be enough.

“Don't tell them anything, please, for the love of God Jas don't tell them anything, I just–” Jake let out a sigh of frustration as he ran his hand free hand through his hair. God he needed a haircut. “We just need a little time to process what's going on and Y/n–she's been doing this for too long on her own, I can’t keep letting her down so just, take a moment to breathe for me.” 

“Holy fuck you aren’t kidding about any of this are you?” Jasmine with all her good graces and problematic marital issues of her own, looked over at where her husband sat with hers and Jake's father. The sight was enough to send a shiver down her spine. The man who raised her was not someone who Jasmine ever wanted her brother to become. Losing your wife to such a disease that was as unforgiving as it was inhumane could potentially be an origin story bubbling under the surface of Jake's skin. 

“Jake–You don't get to turn into dad if this ends anything less than Y/n walking away from this cancer free Jake, your kids deserve to have a dad that won't treat them like burdens and mistakes.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~**

“Watch your step alright?” Our skulls are designed to cushion our brains. Our rib cages are specifically moulded to guard our hearts. The human body is built to protect our most vulnerable parts. At least, that’s how it’s supposed to work. 

The way in which Jake helped to guide you out of the bathroom with his hand pressed firmly against the small of your back made your heart skip a beat. You held tightly onto his forearm with one hand and in the other? Was your IV poll, still pumping you full of antibiotics and fluids. 

“I got it.” You tried to focus on just putting one foot in front of the other. That's what this whole thing was about right? This battle, this fight. It was all about putting one foot in front of the other. With Jake by your side, albeit with some underlying resentment still to be discussed, you felt as though those steps, small but meaningful in their own right, were made with intent and purpose to keep fighting. “Shit the air-con feels so weird on my head.” You chuckled to yourself as Jake shut the bathroom door behind the both of you. 

“Yeah holy shit it's like–” As Jake's eyeline faltered from you to the figure standing over near the door, his heart sunk into his stomach. His face turned to stone as the green in his eyes, usually an emerald colour, darkened to something more pine-like. The half finished sentence that left your husband's mouth and tailed off into complete and utter silence was what got your attention the most. It wasn't like Jake to not say what was on his mind. 

“What's up?” As you turned your head slowly, you saw the man who had been nothing but a pillar of support for you to lean on since your diagnosis. It was the man who had kept you above water when you felt like you’d been drowning in a sea of unprecedented mortality. “Jensen–” The shock and excitement in your tone was something Jake couldn't miss no matter how much he wanted to. “You came?” 

Jake made no attempt to move as you shuffled forward, he stood still with his heart hammering inside his chest. He stood completely still as his thoughts carried him away into a world where nothing made sense to anyone. Into a world where he didn't have you, a world where for the last year he’d tasted of that very misery and hated every last second of it. 

“I uh–” Jensen held out the bouquet of sweet peas, peonies and pansies he’d brought for you. The overwhelming colours and signature scents captivated the entire room with their freshness. “I wanted to stop by, see how you were doing, hope I'm not intruding?” 

The body tends to adapt quickly to new circumstances and pressures it’s put under. It knows how to protect itself. But it can’t close off completely, or well—we’re not really living are we? Biology tends to override our fears, so we leave the door open, just a little…hoping like hell that it's worth the risk. 

“Oh no, no we just finished up some DIY haircuts.” You beamed, the smile that ignited across your face was a smile Jake hadn't seen in years. A smile so pure and full of love that it couldn't ever be faked. “Jake, this is Jensen.” You introduced the two men who had played significant roles in your life, having no clue that they had both already met one another in the hall. “We met at the doctors office, as unfortunate as that sounds, it's been really nice to have someone who just, knows.” Jake slowly but surely aided you over to your bed before he made his way over to where Jensen stood watching idly. Assessing the situation unfolding before him. “Jensen convinced me to go to a few of those CCA meetings, although not my cup of tea–it's nice to know that that support system is there.” 

Jake eyed Jensen and his bouquet of flowers off as he stepped closer and closer with a look Jensen couldn't quite read in his pine green eyes. The betrayal of love often has boundaries that people end up living with for the rest of their lives. For Jake, his betrayal and the consequences of his emotional ineptitude inside his marriage was starting to play out right before his very eyes. 

He saw the potential that there was in fact another man. And oh boy did he hate it. 

“And Jensen, this is Jake, my husband.” Jensen took subtle notice of the way you introduced Jake to him as your husband, not your ex-husband like you'd been referring to him as since the two of you first met. Something had changed, Jensen could sense it. But for as much as Jensen could sense the chemistry between you and Jake, Jake could see the way your eyes lit up with overjoyous surprise when you realised that the flowers Jensen held in his hand were in fact for you. “Are those, are those for me?” 

“Oh–yeah.” Jensen beamed as he walked a little further into your room. “I thought they might bring a little light into your room but it seems that you have it pretty well decorated.” It was the small nod to the Christmas lights that hung around your room that made you smile even brighter as Jake made his way back over and helped you into bed. You could tell there was tension brewing just from his quietness alone. “And the new haircut suits you, good thing you don't have a weird ass head huh?”

“Hey Jarred–” Jake interrupted before you had a chance to reply, the way he intentionally called Jensen by a different name rubbed you the wrong way. The frown that cast itself across your face left little to Jake's imagination, but as he made sure you were as comfortable as could be in your bed, he kept going. “Nows, probably not a good time–” 

Jensen looked around your room carefully, he knew the system well and what times were more common than not for nurses to do their daily rounds and check-ins. He knew that by the looks of things you had just showered and were probably settling in for the afternoon. If Jensen was correct in his assumption as he looked back towards where Jake stood at your bedside, he would assume that he couldn't have picked a better time to drop by. 

“Seems like a pretty good time to me man, besides, why don't we let Y/n here make that call.” Jensen replied calmly as he went about finding a place for your flowers to go. Jensen could have played the safe card, he could have chosen to be the bigger person and not mention it, but he didn't really have a hell of alot to lose. After all, he was a dead man walking. What was the harm in stirring the pot a little where he still could. “Honestly, I didn't expect you to be here if I'm being completely honest.” Jensen smirked as he turned back to face Jake. You felt like your heart was about to explode right through your chest as you looked back and forth between the two men who had seemingly gotten into a mines bigger than yours contest on either side of your bedside. “Didn't think you knew your wife was sick–” 

The silence was deafening as Jake thought about all the ways he could kill a man in one single motion. The rage he felt inside his chest was red hot jealousy. Jensen could practically see the steam spewing out of Jake's years. 

“What my wife decides to share with me has nothing to do with you–” Jake growled, you could just see the way he was grinding his teeth. Jake's jawline had never seemed more profound. His knuckles were almost entirely white as he leaned against the railing of your hospital bed. Lowered down for convenience of getting in and out. 

“It does when I’ve been the one listening to how much she wishes you loved her the same way she loves you.” Jensen shrugged. “Come on man, don't play this game, don't pretend that I don't know what been going on–” 

“Enough!” You couldn't have shouted it slider if you tried. “Both of you, my god we’re all supposed to be adults here?” You sighed as you looked at Jake and then over to Jensen. Something was off with him, this wasn't the Jensen you knew. He seemed off, very off. “Can you two just back up, let's start over.” However, it was a plea that fell on deaf ears.

Remember that impending moment of weakness mixed with overall exhaustion Jake mentioned earlier? Yeah– about that. Guess it was coming around the corner sooner rather than later. 

“Nah–” Jake shook his head as he let out a sigh. This was bullshit, you really had him fooled. He really did think that there was a possibility here that maybe, just maybe, the two of you could fix what he had unintentionally broken while focusing on your health. “Nah, I'm not gonna put up with this dickhead.” Jake hissed as unclenched his hands from the railing on your bed. “I'm gonna go get a coffee, try not to catch each other's cancer cells while I'm gone.” 

“Jake, don't leave!” You begged as you sat up a little straighter in your bed. “Please—“ The panic that followed was something otherworldly as you watched Jake round out of the hospital room that had become your home away from home. “Please!” 

Jensen was if anything, enraged. He hadn’t helped the situation but he never would have left your side after making a remark so thickly lacquered with jealousy. He didn't think Jake would react the way he did, so quick to make assumptions. The small gift Jensen still held in his hand was quickly placed on your bedside table. 

“I’ll go talk to him—“ Jensen pressed his lips together as he let his hand fall gently to your shoulder. “My fault, I shouldn't have said what I did, I'm sorry.” Jensen didn't pretend to not see how upset you truly were. He understood what it was like to feel the weight of the world crushing your spirit. “He didn't mean what he said Y/n.” 

“He did–” You sighed as you wiped away your tears. “He asked me when he came to take the kids to his mum's house if I was seeing anyone–” 

Ah, Jensen thought to himself as he stood by your bedside and listened. 

“He wants to get back together, fix what's broken, change.” You sighed as you looked over to the open door that Jake hadn't long before walked out of. “He probably thinks you're more than a friend.” In another life, perhaps Jensen could have been more than just a good friend. In another universe somewhere he hoped that maybe you never had this unforgiving disease. But this wasn't another reality, this was right now. 

“All the more reason to fight for his girl.” Jensen cooed as he leaned in to kiss the top of your now very smooth head. “I'll go talk to your husband.” 

You caught onto the not so subtle subtlety of the way Jensen teased that title. Husband. Jake Seresin was still very much your husband. He was the very definition of a man who was supposed to be at your side through thick and thin. But right now? You were doubting his ability to fully comprehend what was happening to you. Jake’s focus shouldn’t have been on Jensen and who he was to you. But yet you couldn’t not defend him. 

“He’s not a bad guy, he’s really not—“ There was an awkward silence that lingered in the room as Jensen chose to take in what you’d said. “This is all just so much for him to take in.” 

“You don’t need to explain your relationship to me.” Jensen wanted to say that if Jake was such an alright guy, then you wouldn’t have left. He wanted to remind you of all the conversations the two of you had had over the past few months. All the times you’d cried about the man who didn’t value your time, your energy, your love. “But a woman like you should never have to beg a man to stay.” 

“I left him.” You felt the need to remind the man who stood at your bedside with an ora surrounding him you didn’t recognise. “I stopped begging him to love me a long time ago and you know that.” 

Jensen could have thrown the fact you just called out after Jake back in your face, that you’d begged your husband not to leave. But he wasn’t that mean. He was just looking out for you. Someone had to. Someone had to make sure this Jake guy had his priorities in check and that you were at the very top of that list where you belonged. 

“I know—“ Jensen pressed his lips together into a fine line. “But that guy just walked out the second things got a little more complicated, what’s gonna stop him from throwing in the towel if your health declines more than it already has?” Jensen shrugged his shoulders like he wasn’t being nasty. It was his version of tough love. 

“I’m sorry—“ You scoffed as your face contorted into that of a frown mixed with frustration. “Are you, are you testing Jake?” 

“Cancer is one of the world's most leading causes of divorce.” Jensen added like it was a statistic you should have known. He knew you knew it. “I just wanted to see how well he handled a little external pressure.” 

“You’re—“ Before you could finish your sentence, Jensen was smiling down at you from ear to ear. 

“A menace, I know, but I’m a menace that only has your best interest at heart.” Jensen explained as he sat down beside you for only a brief moment. “Your fight isn’t with Jake right now, he shouldn’t be fighting you or anyone else in your life that may come and go.” 

“Jensen—“ You knew Jensen hadn’t been well, but he hadn’t explicitly told you how bad it was. There was something in his eyes though, the way he looked at you like he was looking at you for the last time that had you worried. “What’s going on with you?” 

“I’m just making sure if you’re letting that man back into your life that he’s gonna stick around when things don’t go the way he wants them to.” Jensen smiled softly as he picked up your hand to bring towards his lips. He left a fleeting kiss upon the palm of your hand and let out a sigh he wasn’t aware he was holding in. “I’ll go track down your sook of a husband, make sure he’s aware that you’re hopelessly devoted or whatever you wanna call it.” 

“Please be nice—“ You pleaded gently as Jensen stood from your bedside. “Please.” 

“Anything for you Y/n.” Jensen replied, he knew that this would be the last time he ever saw you apart from in his own version of heaven. “Anything for you.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~*

Jake Seresin had never been a fan of hospitals. That mentality first started when he broke his leg in kindergarten and needed a full cast, but it grew with him well into adulthood. Jake had never liked hospitals, even when all three of his children were born he still hated them. Not even the love he had for his children could override the hate he felt towards the sterile environment that gave far too many infections to people to be considered ‘normal’ 

“Seresin.” But Jake had never hated hospitals more than he did the second he heard his last name being called from just a short distance down the hall. Called by a man who Jake would happily like to never see again. “The hell is your problem?” Jake caught the sight of the man who’d brought you flowers coming right towards him with a fire burning in his eyes. The man you had kept somewhat a secret from Jake. Much like your diagnosis. 

“My problem is asking me what my problem is.” Jake groaned as he took a sip of his shitty ass hospital coffee. “Don’t you and my wife have things to talk about?” Jake asked as he took a few steps away from where Jensen had stopped in his tracks. “Things I’m not privy to as it seems? Like her health or new love life?” 

“You don’t even know who I am to your wife!” Jensen barked loud enough to have Jake stopping in the middle of the hall. The six foot something aviator turned slowly on his heels to give the almost matching in height bald dude the time of day he seemed to crave. “But I know all about you, because I’ve been there for Y/n while you’ve been busy playing part time parent across the country.” Jensen had nothing to lose, he was just a dying man who had no time left to cherish. 

Jake wasn’t about to stand here and take this. He didn’t need some guy who’d stepped into your life to tell him what to do. You were the mother of Jake’s children, you’d always be that to him regardless if he could fix what he broke. 

“Get out of my face before you need a plastics consult.” Jake growled through gritted teeth all the while Jensen grinned. He was standing his ground as Jake continued on his defensive. “Because so help me god, you may feel like god right now with your self-righteous heart and knight in shining armour attitude, but you sure as hell won’t feel all high and mighty when you meet him.” 

Jensen didn't want to fight with your husband, but he did want to make it known that time was forever fleeting, and if Jake kept going the way he was there would be no time left to fix what he broke. You needed someone to be there for you, Jake had to be that person. 

Because Jensen couldn’t be that guy for you anymore, he had no fight left to give you. He had no fight left in himself. 

“You know I sympathise with you Jake, I do, it must be hard being the guy who broke your own marriage to a woman who loves so fiercely and so much.” Jensen started as he let his elbows rest atop his sweatpants clad knees. “And now having to deal with the fact that said wife is dying must be a lot to work through.” 

Jake remained speechless as his eyes lingered down to the man who was almost out of breath from his walk through the halls. He held his half drunk coffee cup in his hand with enough rage coursing through his veins that Jake was actually surprised he hadn’t crushed the flimsy cardboard vessel. 

“But you know what the worst part of all that is? Is that your priority isn’t your wife, or fixing your marriage—“ Jensen continued on. “No, it’s on the guy who your wife chose to confide in when you were nowhere to be found.” 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jake replied with a hiss in his tone that mimicked the deadliest of snakes. “I couldn’t give a shit who you are to her or what you want, because she’s my fucking wife—mine!” 

“And yet here you are arguing that point with me in the hall when you could be at her bedside appreciating all the small moments you’ll be lucky to look back on one day.” Jensen grew more heated as Jake took a few strides his way, towering over where Jensen sat. “You threw a fit the second I stepped into that room without using any critical thinking skills you aviators claim to have in the heat of the moment.” 

“She told me she wasn’t seeing anyone! Come to find out that that’s—“ Jake didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence before Jensen intervened that train of thought. 

“She’s not! You’re wife fucking love’s you!! She kept her prognosis from you because she was so scared you didn’t love her back enough to fucking care! And you’re hung up on the idea she’s seeing someone? Me!?” Jensen scoffed as he stood, the few strides he took towards Jake were made with intent behind every single one. Enough to have Jake stumbling back every so slightly. “Here’s a concept for you man.” Jensen pressed his index finger into Jake’s sternum. “Maybe, just maybe, if I was sleeping with your wife, she’d remember her worth.” 

“You really don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jake sighed, there was no way he was entertaining this delusion any more than he already had. “I think you should leave.” The idea of you being with another man sent Jake into a blind rage of jealousy that saw no reason. But at the end of the day, he was the one who walked out on you. He’d strayed too far from your hospital room and couldn’t see your bed socks anymore. 

Fuck….

“Maybe, maybe I should—“ Jensen agreed. “And hell I don’t even know you at all, but from what I’ve managed to piece together? it’s that you're a crap husband who doesn’t have the emotional capacity to handle the fact his wife could lose this battle.” Jensen retaliated with a stone cold expression. “But something I do know is that no amount of prayer or candles or begging will reverse time, so put your ego side and focus on the fact your wife needs you now more than ever before and if you leave her side the way you did today ever again, trust me when I say you’ll regret it every day of your life.” 

“Y/n isn’t dying—“ Much like Jensen was taking his fear of the unknown out on Jake, Jake was just about ready to let loose on the guy who was picking apart his very character. Sure, Jake recognised he wasn’t the best husband, but he also knew you weren’t dying. Not right now, not while he wasn’t by your side. 

“I wasn’t either, but as it turns out we all have an expiry date.” Jensen replied. The atmosphere and energy surrounding the two men who were going head to head suddenly shifted. “Some sooner than others, but we all have one, and when yours is up yours is up and there ain't nothing you can do you extend it.” 

“You’re—“ Jake couldn’t bring himself to say it. 

“A walking corpse.” Jensen finished the sentence he knew Jake was trying to speak into existence. Although he didn’t care to beat around the bush. “So trust me when I tell you that wishful thinking does shit when your body decides it’s had enough.” 

“Does Y/n know?” Jake's first worry was how this news, how this detrimental turn of events, would affect you. His heart forgot how to beat inside his chest when he watched Jensen shake his head in response. 

“She needs to focus on her own journey, and before I go I need to make sure she has a support system because for a while there I was all she seemed to have.” Jensen explained. There it was, the truth of the matter. 

Jake saw it clear as day, the care, the worry, the intention to make sure you had someone there for you because Jensen wasn’t going to be there anymore. You may not have slept with the guy standing before Jake but if Jake knew anything, it was the look of a man who was unequivocally in love with you. He saw his own reflection of Jensen's eyes. 

“Go back, apologies, and you fix your marriage man because that woman? That electrifying woman who sees the good in everything doesn’t deserve to go through this alone—and you turning your back on her the second someone made things a little difficult for you isn’t a good representation of the husband she deserves.” 

“You love her, don’t you?” Jake asked as he took a second to truly take in Jensens whole argument. The world seemed to go on around them, with doctors and nurses carrying out their daily duties and rounds. Family members walking to and from rooms visiting loved ones. But for Jake and Jensen? The world stopped when it came to you. “You’re in love with my wife, say it.” Jake couldn’t hide the pain in his voice. “Tell me you love her, then this all makes sense.” 

“Maybe—“ Jensen tried to play his love for you down into something that was just a social construct. “Maybe I love her, but I don’t get a chance to explore that, you do though.” Jensen was truly trying to hide the pain in his eyes, but Jake could see it all too easily. Jensen knew that. “So if not for yourself, for her, pull your head out of your ass man—“

“I never stopped loving her though.” Jake sighed out in frustration as he sat down on one of the plastic hospital chairs that lined the hallway. Jensen followed soon after, both men decided that the heat of the argument was settling into something more valuable. “I just—I lost sight of what I had.” 

“That’s just not a good enough excuse.” Jensen replied as he let his head fall back against the wall. “Listen, I don’t plan on coming back after I leave today.” 

Jake didn’t respond, he simply waited for Jensen to explain. But the explanation never came and Jake never pressed. If anything he was kind of relieved in a selfish way. 

“If you truly want to fix what’s broken, if you really want to fight for her and be by her side when she needs you the most, you’ll get up and you’ll go back in there and you’ll be the guy who gets to hold her like no one else does.” Jensen pauses momentarily before he continued on. “Because there’s better guys out there Jake, and she shouldn’t have to settle for one who doesn’t appreciate what’s right under his damn nose.” 

“Is this your way of telling me you’re a better man than me?” Jake asked cautiously, a part of him didn’t want the answer to be yes. But Jake needed to know what the man sitting beside him truly thought. You saw something good inside him, inside both of them.

“I’m not a better man than you Jake—“ Jensen sighed as he stood from his chair. It was getting late, he had said his peace, he had put the fear for a dying man inside Jake Seresin. There wasn’t much more Jensen could contribute to your life besides what he had already given. 

The body tends to adapt quickly to new circumstances and pressures it’s put under. It knows how to protect itself. But it can’t close off completely, or well—we’re not really living are we? Biology tends to override our fears, so we leave the door open, just a little…hoping like hell that it's worth the risk. But for Jensen….He was ready to close the door and lock it shut. 

“I’m just a man who’s run out of time and has nothing left to lose.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~

Tags: @blindedbythelightt @starset21 @tayl0rhuynh @mamachasesmayhem @marvelogic @itsmytimetoodream @maverick-wingman @kodzukenmaaa @eternalsams @seitmai @nota-professional @jessicab1991 @hardballoonlove @senawashere @fanficfandomlove @withahappyrefrain @dizzybee03 @maisie-rebloging-blog

@goldenseresinretriever @a-reader-and-a-writer @sunlightmurdock @shelbycillian @memoriesat30 @accioprocrastination @the-aspiring-fanfic-writer @athenabarnes @eternallyvenus @emma8895eb @kmc1989

#was it over? // jake seresin #tw: cancer #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fanfiction #jake hangman imagine #jake seresin imagine

[wipbigbang]

2024 WIP Big Bang Schedule & FAQ!

Schedule

All times are by 11:59pm PST. Convert time zones.

Sign-ups Begin- April 15th Sign-ups Close- May 21st Check In #1- May 22nd Check In #2- June 15th Snippets Due- July 1st Art Claims Begin- July 17th Check In #3- July 22nd Check In #4- August 6th Rough Drafts Due- August 15th Posting Claims Begin- August 23rd Posting Claims Ends- September 1st Final Drafts/Art Due- September 7th Posting Starts- September 8th

FAQ

What is the WIP Big Bang? Good question! This is a Big Bang with one goal in mind: to clean out your fanfic drafts folder. These are stories that were unfinished for whatever reason, that authors returned to and completed, and the art that goes with them!

Do I need a Livejournal/Dreamwidth/AO3/etc. account to participate? No! You don’t have to have an account on anything to participate, though you will need to have somewhere to post your finished work. Having one or more accounts will help for you to follow what is going on with the bang (we crosspost to Dreamwidth and Tumblr and heavily use our Discord server at the moment), but they are not required to participate. You can always leave comments anonymously or with an opensource ID.

How many fics can we sign up for? We absolutely don’t mind multiple sign-ups. I know one year someone submitted 50 fics to finish, and got at least half of them done. We just ask that when you sign up with more than one fic you give each fic a unique user ID (please do not use the same ID for all your fics...it’s important to have different IDs for the check-ins).

Will I get emails about the bang? We do send out some emails, mostly for snippets and art claims and to ensure communication between authors and artists, but please do NOT rely on getting an email to remind you of due dates. We currently do not keep an updated email list of participants, so we only send individual emails as needed rather than mass emails.

However, email is the fastest way to communicate with the mods. If you have any questions or are having trouble communicating with your artist/author, please do email us! We will do our best to respond quickly.

What do you mean by minimum word count to enter? This is a WIP Big Bang, therefore we ask you to have at least 500 words of your story drafted when you enter.

Can an outline count towards those first 500 words that are needed at sign up? We have admitted work on an outline before so yes, if your outline is fleshed out enough to cover a 7,500 word+ fic, we’ll allow it.

Are multi-chapter fics allowed? Yes, multi-chapter fics are allowed and even more so encouraged if your fic is lengthy.

What about fics that are already posted on ao3 in part? Do those qualify for the bang? It's okay if you have posted a few chapters of your fic already (you never know when the muse deserts you, after all), we just require you to refrain from posting more until posting begins here. All we ask is that you not post any public updates to the fic until September 1st (or August 1st with the mod’s okay). We don’t want you to lose kudos and comments so don’t worry about pulling the fic down, just hold off on updates for now.

Is there a minimum word count? 7,500 words for each finished fic, but the sky's the limit, right?

I see that the fic minimum is 7500 words and that published WIPs are acceptable - but what if the WIP I’m considering is already more than 7500 words? Is the expectation to add an additional 7500 to it? No. You can add as much or as little as you need to finish the story, though we do expect at least 1,000 or so new words if your WIP already meets the word count.

What happens if an author finishes the fic they signed up with but it’s less than 7,500 words? The intent was to go over the minimum but once they got into it the story was shorter than they thought and stretching it out would make it less good. Do they have to drop out at that point? By all means, we want your stories to feel as natural as possible, and if it’s under 7,500 words you may have two options:

1 - Drop the fic for the main BB event, post it now, and wait to post it to our AO3 collection in February when we run our International Fanworks Day celebration of finishing fics that are less than 7,500 words when finished. There’s no art for the fic, but bragging rights are posted to the communities for a week.

2 - If there are enough fics that fit that category, we can do a special day of posting the fics, but you’ll have to forgo art for the fic. I, as a mod, would probably pick November 30th for the posting day, as it’s the last day of posting for the bang and I don’t think anyone will mind more than one fic that day. You can post bragging rights to the community and share the fic with everyone.

Is there anything not allowed? As long as you wrote it and you want to finish it, you're welcome to participate. RPS/RPF is fine. Incest pairings are fine. Things like that I know have been hinted at in questions asked and as long as you tag for them, we’ll allow it. Also, canon settings with mostly OCs is allowed. We just ask that it be tagged properly with any content warnings you would deem fit and be given the appropriate rating for the level of sex/violence there is in the fic. Just bear in mind that while original work is allowed you may not get art for it.

I have a fic I wrote a few years ago, but only the first couple chapters are posted on AO3 because I was never happy with the rest of it and knew it needed major revision. Is that something I could use for WIP Big Bang? The entire fic has been posted, but only on one platform, and it would be rewritten for AO3 and WIPBB. I think revising a fic for posting would work, as long as you have at least 500 words done, will have 7,500 words at a minimum when it’s done, and are planning to add more to the fic. Simply rewriting what you have would be a gray area, but if you’re going to take stuff out and add new scenes, either in the old scenes place or on its own, you should be fine.

What's the etiquette around OC-centric stories? Ones that are set in a well known fandom and use several characters, but still lean a lot on original characters? Are they discouraged, or fine? Based on my own personal experience making art for a story that had a heavy OC presence, it’s not something we discourage at all, but be forewarned when it comes to the art accompanying your fic your artist may not be able to incorporate the OCs into your art. Not everyone makes art of a hand-drawn or digitally drawn nature, so it helps if you have people for face claims ahead of art submissions, and you and your artist communicate regularly. You can also end up with art not featuring the OCs at all, just the canon characters, which is not necessarily a bad thing. Your other options are to bring in an artist you trust with your vision of your OC or to make your own art (we do allow that, we just need to be told during the check-in before art that you’re bringing in your own artist if you go that route, or that you’re doing your own art…there will not be a need to sign up in the artist’s sign up, however), or to opt-out of art entirely. So there’s plenty of options to call on when it comes time for art.

What are 'check-ins’? These are a way for us to see what you've been up to and for you to make sure you're still on track. It will give you a little nudge/reminder if you need it, but they are not compulsory. Basically a form is posted that you fill out with your user ID (unique for each fic) and a checkbox to let us know you’re still participating, plus a section for any notes for the mods.

How are the check in IDs used? They are solely for the mods organizational purposes. Each ID being for a separate story allows us to keep all the information you submit during check-ins and for snippets in one line on our spreadsheet. You don’t have to share your check in IDs with anyone else if you don’t want to.

How much progress should authors be making between each checkpoint? (Percentage-wise from our estimated total wc, I guess?) Ideally, with each check-in, you should be at least 25% closer to finishing. The end word count only really matters in that the fic needs to be at least 7,500 words when done, so it’s more your progress towards finishing that should be measured, not so much the word count.

What are the snippets requirements? In order to allow the artists to make art for the story they claimed, we require you to supply three snippets from your fic, between 500 – 1500 words each. The snippets will be sent to the artist after they have claimed your story. They're to help the artist match your story for artwork the best way he or she possibly can. It’s helpful to choose scenes or parts of scenes that you feel best represent your fic, but don’t feel like they have to be perfect to be submitted. Along with the snippets, we will send your artist the basic fic info and your email, so the two of you can collaborate more if you would both like.

What are the rough drafts requirements? For the rough drafts, stories should be at least 80% complete. You will not have to turn them in to us, just assure us that you are at that point. Anything less is at the discretion of the mods and those authors should speak to one of the mods asap.

What is, and do I need, a beta? A beta is basically a person who goes over your work to make sure that there are no spelling/grammatical errors and they can even be of assistance in helping you with story lines, etc. It is highly recommended that a beta looks over your work before posting. If you are having trouble finding a beta, try this post.

Where can I post my fic/art? Stories and art can be posted to your own personal journal, Tumblr, ff-net, AO3, or wherever you like. For those of you with AO3 accounts, we will set up a collection that will go live on the day of the posting. If you don’t currently have an AO3 account but would like one, you can contact the mods for an invitation code to see if they have any available. You can also add yourself to the AO3 Invites Request queue.

What does posting look like? Do we have to post the whole thing on the day, or can we stretch it out between when posting starts and our date? I’ve had a few longfics get killed by big bangs forcing posting to happen on a given day, and would prefer to avoid that if possible. For most fics, posting to AO3/FF.net/other places will be allowed to start in September and you can stretch it out as many posts as you want as long as the complete fic is up by your posting date (and posting dates go from September 8th to November 15th with two weeks for emergency posting). However, you can send us an ask/e-mail about posting as early as August if you have an extremely long fic/something with a long posting schedule. Mostly what we want is the fic to be completely up on the website of your choice by your posting date, and I know some people don’t want to overwhelm their readers. So we want to work with writers to give them ample time to post the story up to their posting date.

Now, as for posting to the communities, you get to choose which day your link to the story and bragging rights are posted, and as I said, we have a range of dates from September 8th to November 15th with two to three stories posting a day. If for some reason you miss your posting date, you have until November 30th to post to the community, during the two weeks of emergency posting, with a possible extension after that due to the amount of participants needing to post later. So hopefully there should be plenty of time to get a longfic up and posted to the website of your choice and our BB.

Will the three snippets per story we have to send in be the ones we want the artist to make art for? Or can it just be random snippets and then later the artist and I can check together to see which scenes would work best for art? So ideally, you and the artist will be communicating once you’re each sent each other’s contact information, and you’ll give your artist a chance to read all that you’ve written at that point. That’s what happens in most cases. If your fic gets picked by an artist and they don’t work with you, then the snippets you sent will be what the artwork will be based on. It’s a good idea to know that, while most of the time the artists work closely with the authors, there are a few exceptions to that.

How do I know when to post? Posting will be tiered; you'll each get your own posting date that you and your artist will decide on together. There will probably be four fics, plus art, posting per day between September 8th and November 30th. The post with date claims will go up on August 23rd and you'll have to choose your date by September 1st.

Posting of chapters on AO3 or your own blog (or wherever you usually post) generally starts September 1st, but you can post earlier (as early as August 1st) if you let us know you have a long story. However, posting has to be finished by your chosen posting date to the comm. One of the things we're hoping to do with the posted dates is to give everybody on the comm a little bragging time in the spotlight. You know, "this story was incomplete for this long, but I finished this sucker." If you don't have time to post your bragging rights to the communities on your chosen posting date, you can queue up a post ahead of time and we can post it on the date you picked or you can email us your bragging rights and we can post by proxy for you. Either way works for us. Art will be due on the chosen posting date to the comm.

What am I posting to the Livejournal/Dreamwidth/Tumblr community if I’m posting the fic elsewhere? You’ll be posting what we call bragging rights. It’s a small form you fill out and post to the community with a link to your fic (we’ll enable moderated posting to the Tumblr, Livejournal and Dreamwidth communities for members on August 8th). We will post a template for posting artwork and stories to the comm closer to the posting date.

Is there a minimum/maximum requirement for my art? There is no strict minimum, but we do ask artists to remember that the authors are writing a minimum of 7,500 words and your artwork should reflect that. You can do anything you like, including banners, wallpapers, icons, mixes, vids, gif sets, picspams, etc. Suggested guidelines for art are 500x500px (or equivalent of smaller pieces like banner + spacers, cover + icons, etc.) for traditional art, digital art, and manips; 2 minutes for vids; 10 songs + cover art for mixes; and 6 images for gif sets and picspams. We also ask that when you are in contact with the author, you work with them to see if there is anything specific they would like (i.e. a wallpaper, book cover, etc.). The art is your work, but having ideas doesn't hurt!

What are 'art claims'? The claims are when anonymous summaries of the story go up for artists to choose from. Artists sign-ups and art claims are the same thing; we use one form for both things, and that way the authors don’t have to sign up for an event they may not end up participating in. It is based on a 'first come, first served' basis and artists may choose up to three potential stories (in case their first choice is unavailable). If there are more stories than artists, there will be a second round of claims wherein artists may choose a second story to work with. And on until all stories are claimed for art.

If a fic up for claiming is rated explicit (R, NC-17, etc.), please only claim the story if you are over 18 years of age. Some authors may be uncomfortable working with underage artists on explicit works. We do not verify ages in any way for the bang, so this is solely on the honor system.

What do I do if I have problems or concerns about my author/artist? Sometimes authors and artists do not get along and this may cause problems with working together. If this happens to be the case with you, please email the mods and we will try to do what we can so that everyone has a chance to have fun at WIP Big Bang!

If you have not heard from your author/artist in some time after trying to contact them, you can reach out to us via email and we will try to get in touch with them for you.

Can I get an extension? Community extensions may be given in the event that the majority of the authors/artists need one. They may also be given individually under certain circumstances, but this must be discussed with the mods and will only be a short extension for posting. If you are certain that you won’t be able to finish your story in time, please let us know by July 13th.

Can I swap out a fic if my muse abandons it again? When you sign up, you give us the information on the potential fic(s) you want to write. If, say, one fic isn’t working but one you didn’t sign up for is, you can switch them out while letting the mods know if you need to change a user ID you used. It is absolutely okay to switch fics all the way up until snippets are due. By then, we hope you’ll have however many fics you plan on doing to at least 80% completion since rough drafts are due not much later. Just drop an email to the mods at [email protected] with the new information (title, fandom, etc) and if you want a new sign in ID or plan to use the same one for the fic you’re replacing it with.

Can I drop out? We have high hopes that everybody who signs up can actually finish the round and share in the joy of the reveal with us, but real life can unfortunately get in the way and we completely understand! If you feel like you just cannot finish in time and no amount of assistance from us can help you, just let us know by August 13th (if at all possible).

Is it possible to be banned? We do have a banned users list. We hope to use this to encourage participants who are having issues to communicate with the mods. We want to help you! The way the ban works is that participants, either authors and artists, will be banned for dropping out without notifying a mod. This means that anyone who has not posted or talked to a mod by the time the posting period ends will be banned. Dropping out is not in and of itself a banning offense, so please do not panic if you have to drop out! We understand that there are many reasons you may need to drop, and we want to work with you.

Bans will last one round or until the issue is resolved, whichever comes first. To resolve a ban, authors will have to finish and post the story they signed up with and artists will have to finish and post the art for the story they claimed. Three bans will result in a permanent ban from the bang.

Are we allowed to participate without joining the Discord? Absolutely! The Discord server is optional, as just another way to interact with your fellow writers and get updates on important dates. It’s not mandatory you join, however.

I was just wondering if there’s any way to enter the bang anonymously? Like would it be okay to put our work in an anonymous collection on ao3 or something? Unfortunately, I can’t think of a way for that to work. The collection that we use is moderated but it’s not anonymous, and there are the bragging posts that you post on your posting day, which you would have your username on whichever platform you use.

I was just wondering whether I'm sworn to secrecy on which fics I'll be finishing up, or if I can shout it out to the world? No one is sworn to secrecy once they’ve signed up (aside from posting new parts to fic that’s already up somewhere…we ask that you refrain from doing that until at least July 1st)! We will be running Word Wars, where you can add more to a fic in a certain amount of time, and Whine Bars, where you can complain or ask for help or whatever else you feel like talking about when it comes to struggling with a fic, all after sign-ups end on a weekly basis, plus there’s the Discord server for chatting with your fellow authors and artists.

I have a question/concern that’s not mentioned here. If you need help, you can always contact a mod and we will do our best to make sure that you get your story/art finished. The best and fastest method of contact is through our email, [email protected].

#wip big bang #!admin #!2024 #signal boost

[topguncortez]

Slap Shot || Chapter 1

A Jake Seresin Hockey AU

previous part | masterlist | next part

synopsis: You arrive at your new job in North Island, and are hit with memories that you'd much rather leave behind. Jake faces the repercussions of his fight on the ice with his teammate

word count: 2.9k

warnings: grief, mentions of sexism, injuries, losing a parent, locker room talk, hockey inaccuracies, mentions of cheating, workplace harassment, mentions of sex

When you were about five years old, your kindergarten teacher asked you what you wanted to be when you grew up. Most of your classmates gave answers such as “teacher” or “doctor” or “superman”. You, on the other hand, stood in front of the packed gym on the night of your kindergarten graduation, your head held high as you gave your answer. 

“A Stanley Cup Winner.” 

Of course at the time, you didn’t understand that women could not win the Stanley Cup (you figured that out at age 8 and it caused the meltdown of all epic meltdowns). The closest thing women could get to the Stanley Cup was a gold medal at the Olympics. You worked your ass off from the time you could successfully skate without falling, to your senior year of highschool. Every waking moment you had was spent at the rink, running drills from sunup to sun down. You lived and breathed hockey, and as the daughter of the late great Michael L/N, you had big shoes to fill. 

You just never imagined the moment it would all come crashing down. 

It was a dumb idea, in hindsight. It was a really dumb idea. Weeks from the US Olympic team tryouts, you agreed to joining your friends at the lake. A place you liked to avoid like the plague. It wasn’t that your parents and coach kept you away from having any fun in your life, you simply chose to ignore the dangerous stunts your friends like to partake in. But for some reason, you decided to take a chance and take a break from the grueling training schedule your coach had created. It was a hot summer day in the middle of July, and a day out on the boat sounded like heaven. 

You should’ve said no to trying to wakeboard. You should’ve just stayed on the boat, watching the epic wipeouts by your friends. It would’ve been the smart choice to make. . . but you never were that smart. One bad landing into the wake created by the boat, had you breaking the surface with a horrible scream. Your friends reacted quickly, jumping into the water to help you stay afloat as you screamed in pain, your collar bone protruding awkwardly under your skin. They got you to the hospital quickly where you were told you had broken your collarbone and torn your ACL in your knee. The physical pain wasn’t even as bad as the emotional pain that came a few weeks later. 

“I’m sorry, but you will never play hockey at the level you are playing it now. I suggest. . . quitting altogether if you want to avoid having a shoulder replacement before you’re 30.” 

A bullet to the chest would’ve hurt less. 

At first, you laughed at the doctor’s suggestion, all but telling him to fuck off and asking to see his credentials. Your parents had tried to talk some sense into you, telling you that maybe heeding the doctor’s advice could be beneficial. Your dad knew guys from the league who had shoulder or knee injuries, and it never ended up in their favor. Years of pain and suffering, turning to questionable methods of dealing with the pain, missing out on crucial time with their families or significant others. But you were stubborn, and didn’t want to quit playing when you were about to try-out for the biggest moment of your life. 

But you never made it that far. In fact, you never finished your senior season. From the first puck drop, everything was shit. You weren’t as strong as you had been, having lost muscle in both your arms and legs. You felt off balance, and were cautious of every move you made on the ice. You knew the statistics, you were at a higher risk of tearing another ligament in your knee after tearing the first one. Your collar bone, even though it had healed without having to have surgery, clicked and popped anytime you tried to make a slapshot. You were making mistakes you hadn’t made since peewee hockey. Your teammates were growing increasingly annoyed, your coaches were becoming exasperated, and your dreams of making it on the US Olympic team had slowly drifted away. It was a hard choice, but in the middle of your senior year, you decided to hang up your skates for the last time. 

Even though you weren’t actively playing, your love for the sport didn’t die along with your Olympic dream. In fact, you found a new way to get involved with the sport, deciding that you were going to major in public relations and team management. Your goal had shifted, and now you wanted to be the first female Hockey manager. 

But like most goals, that was easier said than done. 

It was 2024, and even with the establishment of the Profession Women’s Hockey League and the US Women’s Hockey team winning numerous gold medals on the world stage, women in the league still weren’t taken seriously. You were told all through college, as you sat in your team management class to choose a different sport like swimming or volleyball or gymnastics. More “women friendly sports”. You weren’t going to throw in the towel and give up on your dream, no matter how many teams had denied you. 

When you were hired by the North Island Daggers, you weren’t sure what to expect. They were known as the joke team of the NHL. Always finishing last every season, being most teams shoe-in win when they played against one another. Having gone from working as a PR rep for the Dallas Stars, you felt as though this was a demotion, a punishment for a freelance article you had written about how women were being treated in the NHL. You knew the article was going to be risky when you sat down and wrote it. You just didn’t expect to get a call an hour after the article was published telling you that you were being sent to work with the Daggers. 

“We’re happy to have you here,” Beau Simpson, spoke as your heels clicked down the long hallway behind him, “As you can see, we need a little PR help.” 

“Yeah, I saw that fight between Holloway and Seresin the other night.” The whole NHL fan base saw the fight, but you weren’t about to tell Simpson something he was probably painfully aware of, “Interesting decision to bench him before going against Endmonton though. He’s your strongest player.” 

“Can’t let him get away with bad behavior,” Simpson shrugged, stopping outside a large conference room with glass walls and a large oval table in the middle, “Hey, I’m sorry about your dad. I got the honor of playing against him my rookie year. Hell of a player. Terrible thing, cancer is.” 

“Yeah, thanks,” It had been months since your dad died from cancer, shocking the world of hockey. You thought by now you would have been used to hearing condolences from strangers, but they still made your ears burn and your face flush. 

Simpson nodded courtly, opening the door to the conference room where two sharply dressed men and a woman sat. 

“Gentlemen, this is Y/N L/N, the new PR rep for the North Island Daggers,” Simpson introduced you as the two men stood up, and you immediately knew who they were. 

“Pete Mitchell and Tom Kazansky, co-owners of the North Island Daggers,” You answered, shaking both of their hands, “An honor to meet you, both.” 

“The honor is all ours, Miss Hamilton,” Pete smiled at you as he sat down. 

You wanted to correct him, but decided not to. Sometimes, it was easier to let people call you by your father’s last name, than try and explain why you dropped it and took up your mother’s maiden name. The world of sports was a game of who you know and who you belong to. If your last name was that of a hall of famer, you were almost guaranteed anything and everything you wanted, and you hated that. When you were vying for the spot on Team USA, you wanted it because you were skilled, not because of who your dad was. The same stood now, as you were trying to work your way up in the hockey world. You wanted this job because you were good at it, not because your dad was hockey royalty. 

“I’m Mrs. Wright, the executive public relations and human resource officer,” The woman, who’s blonde hair was slicked back in an impressive bun, held her hand out to you. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Wright,” You smiled at her, trying hard to not gawk at the huge diamond ring that sat on her finger. 

“We’re glad you could join us on such short notice,” Tom spoke, “We know that you just got let go from the Stars for a shit reason if you ask me.”

“Thanks,” You muttered, clasping your hands on the conference table in front of you, “I am happy to be picked up by the Daggers though. My dad really enjoyed his time here as a rookie.” 

“Damn, we missed him when he left,” Pete shook his head, as if he were remembering the “good ol’ days” as your father referred to him during his rookie season. 

“The reason we hired you, Miss Hamilton,” Mrs. Wright spoke up, breaking up the reminiscing, “Is because we are in the middle of a PR storm. We have a player who has caused quite the controversy lately and is in danger of losing his sponsors. From our research, we know that you do fantastic work with building player profiles, turning rookies into known players, making the bad guys look like the good boys. We need you to do that.” 

“Okay,” You nodded, “So am I taking over the social media accounts like I did in Dallas, or-” 

Mrs. Wright looked apprehensively at Pete and Tom, who sat up a bit in their seats. 

“Not necessarily,” Pete cleared his throat, “You will be paired one on one with one of our problematic players.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed, before realization struck you, “Wait. . .” You held your finger up, “You hired me to be a glorified babysitter?” 

— — — 

“I don’t need a babysitter.” 

Jake grunted as he set the barbell back on the rack above him. His gray workout t-shirt was drenched in sweat as he sat up, looking both his agent and trainer in the eye, “I’m fine on my own.” 

“You got in a fight,” His agent, Steven, deadpanned. 

“Everyone gets in fights, its hockey,” Jake shrugged as Javy handed him his water bottle. 

“With your own teammate.” 

Jake glanced over to the other side of the workout room, where Wren Holloway was working out with Bradley Bradshaw, still supporting a black eye from the fight that broke out a couple of days ago on the ice. The fight, which was being dubbed “The Dagger Civil War,” was definitely not a highlight Jake liked to have hanging over him. But in the game of hockey, sometimes the tension runs high, and in that particular game, Jake had gone out looking for a fight from the moment the puck first dropped. It was just unfortunate that his opponent was his teammate. 

“Look,” Steven shifted on his feet, crossing his arms across his chest, “The fight is the least of our issues right now. We have sponsorships ready to pull out on you because you’ve been labeled the “hot head” and the “problematic child”. And what is this that I hear about an affair with the coach’s wife?” 

Jake groaned, standing up from the workout bench, and taking the sweat towel from Javy’s hand. Both of them followed Jake through the weight room. The Daggers might’ve been the worst team in the NHL, having a history of one play-off appearance in the 70 years since they’ve been a team, they sure did have one of the nicest facilities Jake had ever been in. State of the art work-out and physical therapy rooms. Rehabilitation pools, and an indoor track. In-house chefs that served breakfast, lunch and dinner, plus tons of snack shops throughout the building. And the best part, two full sized practice rinks. 

Jake walked over to the smoothie shack, where a bright-eyed hopeful girl sat down his regular smoothie order, his name with a heart around it. 

“Here you go, Jake,” She batted her eyes as Jake took the smoothie, making a clear display of taking off the sticky note with her number on it and setting it back on the counter.  

“Not interested, but thanks,” He nodded, turning back to Javy and Steven, who glared at him, “What?” 

“You sleep with her too?” Steven asked and Javy snickered. Jake was going to shake his head no, but had to double check who it was behind the counter, before shaking his head. Steven rolled his eyes as Jake walked towards one of the rehab rooms. 

The moment Jake laid down on the exam table, Javy got right to work. Javy and Jake were like a well oiled machine, they knew one another since they were kids, growing up next door to one another. They played on the same youth hockey team, until it became too expensive for Javy’s family to afford. It broke the young boy’s heart to have to give up the sport he loved, and Jake had begged his parents to help Javy be able to play. Even though the Seresins insisted on paying for Javy’s fees and equipment, the boy didn’t have the same passion for the sport as Jake did, and he thought it would be a waste. Instead, Javy found another way to be on the bench next to Jake, working as the team equipment manager, to athletic training assistant, to athletic trainer for the Daggers. 

“Shoulder still bothering you?” Javy asked, grabbing Jake’s arm and moving it in a variety of ways. 

“Yeah,” Jake grimaced, “Still has that whole clicking thing going on. Guess that hit from Svec was harder than I thought.” 

Javy snickered, remembering the hit Jake suffered a few weeks ago, “He laid you out flat, man.” 

“Shut up,” Jake grumbled. 

“Mhm,” Steven cleared his throat, directing Jake’s attention back to him, “We weren’t done talking yet.” Jake rolled his eyes, which only seemed to infuriate his manager, “This is serious, Jake,” Steven sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Simpson wants you out, wants you so far gone from the Daggers, hell, probably even the National Hockey League.” 

Jake scoffed, “I’m the best on the team."

“You haven’t been for weeks.” 

Jake huffed again, knowing that Steven was right. He has been off his game for the past couple of weeks. Missing key plays and open teammates. Almost all his shots were deflected or totally missing the net. Not to mention, he felt like his skating had modeled that of a newborn calf, shaky and off balance. The hit from Svec several weeks ago, was just the tip of the iceberg of the list of injuries Jake seemed to have racked up in the past couple of weeks. 

“Look, your spot is in danger.” 

That got Jake’s attention, making him sit up from his laid back position, “What are you talking about?” 

“There’s a kid down on the juniors that is amazing. He’s either been breaking or matching all your records. They are calling him the next you.” 

Jake’s eyebrows furrowed. He didn’t really pay attention to any other league but the one he was currently in. Of course, he kept his eye out for any information about the national team. It had been his dream since he got to the NHL to play for Team USA and make it to the olympics. Playing on the junior team had been one of his greatest memories, and when he felt for the first time, he could actually make it in this sport. 

How could he have ignored that there was someone breaking all his records? 

“Who is this kid?” Jake asked. 

“Drake Silvia. He’s signed to UMich, but also a projected first round draft pick,” Steven clenched his jaw, “They want him. And they will have him. . . at your expense.” 

Jake felt like his heart dropped to his ass. He had never felt the feeling of fear for his spot on a team before. He’s always been the best. Always been the hot commodity that every team wants, that every coach would roll out the red carpet to get him to visit their team. Before he decided to go straight to the drafts, he had nearly every single college in the country and some in Canada, begging for an ounce of his attention. 

“However,” Steven looked around the empty rehab room before leaning in close, “Henderson signed his retirement forms this morning.” 

“What?!” Jake spat out, “He’s retiring?” 

“No announcement will be made until the season is over,” Steven nodded, “But Henderson is done after this year. . . and the captain spot will be open. It could be yours.” 

Besides making Team USA, being named captain has also been on the list of dreams for Jake. All the hockey greats have been captains. Gretzky, Crosby, Hamilton. Jake’s childhood bedroom had their jerseys hanging up in frames. To Jake, no one remembered you unless you were the captain, or won a Stanley Cup. And Jake wanted both. He wanted both as badly as he needed oxygen to live. 

Jake sighed, knowing what the answer to his question was going to be, “So what do I have to do?”

A smirk arose on Steven’s cheeks, “If you want to stay on this team, and make captain, you need to abide by the rules. And that means having a babysit-” He shook his head correcting himself, “A personal PR rep.” 

“Fine, I’ll take the babysitter.”

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