#harebrained thought

[un-local]

The character modelers at Larian had to know what they were doing with him, right [took the screenshot of the UI from this post]

#this dumbass shitpost has been stuck in my brain all day ignore me #karniss #bg3 #sorry everyone #im not normal about him. #hare posts #kar'niss #harebrained thought #kar’niss

[hcrringtonsbat]

𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐈𝐓 (𝐄.𝐌.)

summary: over the course of your friendship, eddie never noticed that you didn’t swear. he took it upon himself to find a way to change that. it was pure chance that you were also screaming his name in the process. [4.7k+ words]

warnings: smut (18+ minors dni), fingering, oral (female receiving), humping, dirty talk

pairing: eddie munson x female!best friend!reader

a/n: oh. my. goodness.this is the first full-blown fic that i’ve written in a while and my first ever published smut. this is probably my favorite thing i’ve ever written & the longest. as always, i hope you enjoy and I encourage you to interact with this. i’d really appreciate it. *also, i know hellraiser comes out in 1987… just pretend it didn’t for my sake <3

part 2

“Ouch! Motherlover!” You exclaimed out of the blue, breaking the silence in the room. You shook your left hand vigorously, hoping to alleviate the pain that struck your pointer finger.

After examining the injury, you gazed up at Eddie sitting on his throne. He had a look on his face that you couldn’t quite decipher. He looked slightly concerned, hearing you cry out in pain had startled him but on the other hand, it seemed as if he could burst out laughing at any second.

“Papercut.” You explained, holding up your finger so that he could see.

A smirk appeared on his face, “I figured. Looks gnarly.” Eddie’s tone was laced with sarcasm.

The two of you were currently in the drama room at Hawkins High School. Hellfire had just been slaughtered by the Cult of Vecna and was in need of a new campaign. Everyone in the club was itching to prove to not only themselves but Eddie that they were capable of outsmarting him and beating his new labyrinth of a campaign.

You weren’t Dungeon Master but, you were his best friend and a big help when it came to brainstorming. Eddie often found that whenever the two of you were riffing off of the top of each other's heads, he came up with the best ideas. So, it wasn’t unusual that you’d stay late after school to help him.

“What?” His sarcastic response didn’t go unnoticed by you.

“Nothing.” He shrugged, still smirking. Eddie peaked at you from behind his hair to see that you weren’t buying it.

You poked his arm in the same spot where his bat tattoo was permanently etched into his skin, “C’mon. What?”

If Eddie knew you half as well as he thought he did, he should’ve guessed that you would probe, “It’s just-” He paused and chuckled to himself, “Motherlover? Really Y/N.”

“What? I always say that!”

“Yeah, exactly. You always say “motherlover” He air quoted, “I mean, what’s wrong with just saying motherfucker and moving on?”

“Nothing’s wrong with swearing. It’s just not my thing.” You shrugged as you continued to scribble away in your notebook.

Even when the two of you were harebrained freshmen, ripe for the picking, Eddie can’t recall hearing you curse. He just assumed that it was because your innocence was still lively & intact.

But as time went on and your age increased, you would stay out past your curfew, unbeknownst to your parents. Or you would indulge in smoking with Eddie at his trailer. So, it wasn’t like you were some goodie-two-shoes who got on her knees every Sunday to pray and repent for her sins.

Eddie reached across the table and closed the book you were writing in. Then, he proceeded to gently snatch it away from you and slide it across the empty table. The two of you watched as it slid off the edge and smacked the floor.

“I was using that.” It would be a lie if you said you were surprised that he’d do something like that but, that’s just who Eddie is. A man that goes to great lengths to get your undivided attention.

“I call bullshit,” Eddie began, adjusting his position in his throne so that one of his legs was thrown haphazardly across the wooden arm, “Out of all of the crazy, ridiculous, rash stunts that we’ve pulled over the course of our friendship… you draw the line at swearing?”

“I mean, Henderson curses more than you and he’s like… twelve.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s fourteen,” You corrected.

“Don’t try and change the subject, princess.” Eddie deadpanned, not breaking eye contact.

Your mind flashed away from your current conversation to a dream that you had maybe three nights ago.

Eddie’s face was burrowed between your thighs, licking up your cunt before stopping at your clit and swirling his tongue, the way that drove you crazy.

Despite everything, despite your legs wrapped around his shoulders, despite his hair covering the top half of his face, he never broke eye contact with you. Not even for a second.

“You like that, princess?” He asked you before continuing to lap at your pussy.

You were instantly transported back to where you sat. In a room with Eddie. Not in his trailer sprawled out on his bed, “What have I told you about calling me Princess?” You pointed an accusatory finger at him.

He swatted it away as quickly as you lifted it, “How ‘bout this. I’ll stop when you tell me to shut the fuck up.”

You protested, “No, I’m not doing that!”

“How about shut the hell up. That’s better, right?” Eddie continued, refusing to let up.

Despite his best efforts, you still stood your ground, “Gosh, no, Eddie!”

“Alright,” He paused. You could tell by how his eyebrows were furrowed and how he mindlessly twirled his rings that he was thinking and hadn’t given up yet.

“Telling me to stick it where the sun shines?” He proposed, “It’s a step in the right direction, huh?” Eddie smiled.

At this, you didn’t even try and protest. You just shook your head and rose from your chair, walking to the end of the table and retrieving the notebook that Eddie had so kindly flung across the room.

Returning to your seat, you opened the page you’d been working on and finished your thoughts.

A few seconds passed before Eddie realized that you were intentionally ignoring him. He scoffed, “Jesus H Christ. You’re hopeless, princess.”

You swallowed, trying so hard not to go back to the deep crevices of your mind that thought of Eddie that way. He’s your best friend. Get yourself together. You told yourself.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. We’ll get there one day.”

He used this nickname so often that it could’ve doubled as your name. But today, you couldn’t stand to have him call you anything other than Y/N. You had to change the subject or else you’d be clenching your thighs the entire drive home.

“Hey!” You whacked his hand closest to you.

“Did you ever stop to think that maybe we could’ve had the new beast for this month's campaign if you weren’t such an asshole?” Another whack, this time on his kneecap.

“One day.” He reiterated before scribbling something on a scratch sheet of paper, completely ignorant to the pool of desire he caused to form in your underwear just by simply calling you a name.

˚ · •. ° .

The entire room erupted in whoops and hollers as Frank Cotton’s dismembered body panned into the frame. Jeff stood on the edge of his loveseat while Gareth clapped at the television screen. Eddie on the other hand remained silent, focusing on the movie.

Occasionally, members of Hellfire gathered at Jeff’s house to watch a horror movie. Today, it was decided that you’d be watching Hellraiser.

This was a very different pick from your run-of-the-mill Nightmare on Elm Street or Friday the 13th. Hellraiser breached a new level of gore and Eddie was forced to step in as dungeon master and forbid the younger members of Hellfire to participate in this particular flick.

“I don’t want to be responsible for replacing your bedsheets.” He’d said when talking to Dustin, which resulted in Eddie being told off with some expletives.

Although he didn’t tell you, Eddie considered asking if you wanted to sit this one out. He remembers how nervous you looked when people started getting slaughtered left and right by Jason Voorhees. From how Gareth described it, Hellraiser made all the other movies you’d watched seem like a walk in the park.

Now, you sat next to him, squirming slightly in your seat on Jeff’s couch. Eddie turned his head to glance at you, expecting to see you looking away from the carnage on screen but, he was mistaken.

You didn’t peel away from the bloodshed. Not even for a second. He should’ve known that you’d do this. Be stubborn and stare the violence down, even if all you wanted to do was shield your eyes.

Eddie thought of a way to add fuel to the fire.

He wrapped his arm around your shoulder. As expected, you didn’t even bat an eyelash. This was something that Eddie did so often during these movies that it became second nature.

He gave you a few seconds to adjust to his arm before he inched in closer to your ear and whispered, “Are you creeped out?” Despite his devious intentions, it was a genuine question.

If Eddie got even a sense that this was starting to get too much for you, he would’ve whisked you out of there.

“Uh-uh.” You shook your head, still keeping your eyes glued to the screen.

Eddie pressed on, “Are you sure? I can tell them to turn it off… princess.” He added at the last second.

You could practically hear the smirk in his voice.

Suddenly, you became hyperaware of everything. The way Eddie’s arm was draped across your shoulder, the weight of his chest as it pressed against you, his thigh glued to yours, his breath fanning across your neck as he spoke… everything.

If this movie wasn’t going to be the death of you, he sure was.

Despite everything your body was urging you to do, you didn’t give in. You just kept a neutral look on your face and paid him no attention.

“Oh, don’t be that way,” He urged, “You’re not gonna tell me to fuck off, princess?” There was an edge to his voice.

It was no surprise that you felt wetness begin to pool in your underwear for the second time this week. Lord. If only he was aware of the things he did to me, maybe he wouldn’t do them at all.

“C’mon, Y/N. Just say one bad word, for me?” He begged. When he said this, the typical playfulness in his voice was gone, nowhere to be found.

You tore your eyes from the television, but when you looked at Eddie’s face only to see that signature Cheshire cat grin upon his face, you knew you fell for it.

All Eddie wanted was for you to give in. It wasn’t the thing he’d longed for you to do the most but, it was still something. A step in the right direction, he’d said earlier this week.

He was itching to say it again now. Instead, he opted for, “Progress, Princess. I’ll crack you soon enough.”

Just like that, Eddie turned his attention back to the movie. He left his arm draped around you but other than that, there was no indication that he’d ever interacted with you.

You gaped at him for a moment. How could he just-? Why would he-? Is he just gonna do something like that, right here, right now, and pretend like he doesn’t know the effect he has on me? You thought.

“Y/N!” A voice ripped you from your thoughts.

Gareth looked on edge, “Are you even watching? This movie cost like $15 to rent at Family Video. The least you could do is pretend you’re interested.” He scolded.

You wanted to scream. You wanted to stand on Jeff’s coffee table and yell what Eddie just did, how he riled you up only to leave you high and dry.

But what good would that do? Admitting that your best friend made you wet just by whispering in your ear?

It would just result in teasing from Jeff and Gareth– maybe even Eddie himself. You could hear him now, “Sweetheart, if I make you that hot and bothered all you have to do is use your words like a big girl, ‘kay?”

You bit your tongue, opting for the rational option. To keep watching the movie and pretending as if nothing had happened.

˚ · • . ° .

Three days later, you found yourself experiencing merciless teasing at the hands of Eddie Munson again. Well– not exactly. At least not yet but, you could feel it coming.

Even with your inhibitions low, even with a blunt laced through your fingers… you just knew.

You were currently sitting in Eddie’s bed, sharing a blunt and talking about nothing in particular while he tuned his guitar. Right now, your eyes were closed, listening to him pluck away.

You felt his bed even out and you opened your eyes and propped yourself up on your elbows, trying to see where the man was going.

He grabbed a pick that was on his desk. Your head fell back against his pillow when you realized he wasn’t going far.

As the bed dipped down, you heard a bang against the wall followed by, “Shit!” Eddie cursed.

This time, you sat all the way up, seeing Eddie grab his elbow, “I hit my funny bone.” He explained, taking another second to breathe before extending his arm in your direction, signaling for you to pass the joint.

“I think that’s enough guitar for me today.” He joked, before taking a long, deep, inhale to let the smoke enter his lungs before exhaling it all out.

“You should take a page outta my book and try not to curse.” You said, resting your head against the wall for support.

Eddie looked at you, taking another drag, “And why would I do that when it’s just so…” He searched for the right word, “Fun? Liberating?” He couldn’t decide.

“How about neither?” You challenged.

You had no idea why you started to antagonize your best friend. Maybe you just wanted to get the teasing out of the way since it’s been a little while since the last time he tried to get you to swear.

Or, maybe you were hoping it lead to somewhere else.

“You think you’re better than me, huh?” Eddie smirked, “You’ve got some superiority kink or something.”

You decided to throw him a bone, “I do have the urge to curse sometimes.”

“Oh yeah? And when is that?” He asked, interest piqued.

“When I get hurt. Like the other day in the drama room. I don’t think you realize how close I was to actually saying it.”

You extended your arm and pried the blunt from Eddie’s lips, “And stop hogging this.”

“So, you don’t wanna swear like a sailor any other time?” He inquired, not even phased that you stole his joint away from him.

Eddie decided that you could keep that one since it was almost gone anyway. He reached for his tin “lunchbox” and grabbed another pre-rolled blunt. He’d probably pinch himself later, knowing that it was supposed to be for a customer but, right now, he didn’t care.

“Not even when you’re touching yourself?” Eddie asked so nonchalantly as he fumbled with his lighter. He said it as casually as you’d ask about the weather or if someone was enjoying their meal.

If you knew he would have dropped a bombshell like that, you never would have brought it up in the first place.

“W-what?” You managed to sputter out, “Why would you even ask me something like that?”

He sighed, “Don’t tell me I struck a nerve, princess?” There he goes. With that nickname again.

Oh, you struck a nerve, alright.

“We never talk about stuff like this is all.” Your brain didn’t even know what to make out of this interaction.

“There’s no time like the present, sweetheart,” Eddie replied, staring you down, “So, what’s the answer?”

You thought about the different ways to reply. You could continue to hold out, refusing to entertain Eddie’s ideas. Or you could give in and end this cycle of desire and damp panties.

Eddie obviously got tired of waiting for you to respond and decided to throw another question into the mix, “What about when someone else touches you?”

And just when you thought things couldn’t possibly get any worse, they did.

“No.” You answered definitively.

I don’t want someone else. I want you. You thought but didn’t dare say.

“Hmm.” Eddie nodded his head at this newfound information and you let out a breath you didn’t even know you’d been holding in.

Thank God the 3rd degree was finally ove-

“So when Harrington went to town,” He started, “You weren’t itching to say anything?”

You had a brief (and I mean brief) romantic history with Steve Harrington.

During your junior year, the two of you went on one date together to the drive-in movie theater just outside of Hawkins. It was a nice experience but, you found yourself longing to be watching a different movie with Hellfire– well, Eddie.

You mentioned hanging out with Steve to Eddie once. You were shocked that he remembered it but what shocked you even more was that he assumed Steve “went to town.”

“Considering we never even got that far, no.” You admitted, thankful to put that rumor to rest, whether he’d conjured it up in his head or heard it roaming the halls.

But of course, knowing Eddie, he just had to be thorough. He asked again, just to clarify, “So Harrington never…?”

“Nope.”

Eddie took a beat, mentally taking notes. Good.

Another question popped into his mind and with him already on his second blunt of the night, he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Has anyone ever?”

“No.”

He hummed, then took another slow drag of his blunt, making you wait in anticipation for what he was going to say next, “If it makes you feel any better, no guy at school knows anything worth a damn.”

You couldn’t hold back the scoff that passed your lips. “Right. And you do?” If Eddie could tease you, you could tease him right back.

Eddie had taken home his fair share of people after shows at The Hideout, mostly people just itching to say they’ve slept with someone in a band. He was surprised that hearing you doubt his abilities in bed stung him so much.

“As a matter of fact, I do,” He stopped, then added under his breath, “I bet I could have you screaming.”

You heard him, heard what he said… what he was alluding to. Your breath caught in your throat and you forced yourself to swallow it down. Get ahold of yourself. He’s only teasing.

Eddie didn’t intend for you to hear what he said but, would it be such a bad thing that you did?

He can’t recall the last time he looked at you as strictly his best friend. The two of you crossed borders that a typical duo wouldn’t: sleeping in each other’s beds, holding hands when a movie got a bit too scary, Eddie kissing your forehead before he left your house.

And that was just the surface level. God only knows how much the two of you had practically seeped into each other’s skin after your years of friendship.

With everything going on right now, Eddie’s inhibitions lowered, the feeling of his cock tightening in his jeans at the prospect of you two finally crossing that godforsaken line… he couldn’t stop himself.

“C’mon, princess. Don’t try and act all high and mighty now like you haven’t thought of me that way.” He started, fully expecting you to smack him on the side of the head but, you didn’t.

Eddie kept going, “Like you haven’t thought about me with my head between those pretty thighs.”

“I haven’t.” You gulped, your hand traveled up your arm and stopped at your elbow.

After knowing each other for years, it was obvious that you’d pick up on one another’s habits. Certain words that you’d coin, your favorite items of clothing… when you were lying.

The number of times you’d call your parents from Eddie’s house, claiming that the two of you were studying when in actuality you weren’t. He noticed the way you scratched your elbow while lying through your teeth.

Just like you were right now.

“Mosquito bite?” He asked, pointing out your nervous tick, “Or did you hit your funny bone too?” He smirked.

“E-Eddie,” You stuttered, “Trying to seduce me isn’t gonna get me to say a bad word.” You chuckled nervously.

“Really?” He said, unconvinced, “When have you, Y/N Y/L/N, ever backed down from a challenge?”

Suddenly, you realized how close in proximity the two of you were. For the second time in the past week, you could feel his body heat radiating from his chest.

“Y/N…” He continued in a sing-song tone, “Don’t think I didn’t notice the way you were staring at my hands while I played my guitar.”

“Were you thinking about these fingers fucking your pussy?” Eddie held up his ring-clad fingers and whispered in your ear.

“God, Eddie,” You exhaled, “Are you really taking this that far?”

This was your final attempt. It was the last time you were going to resist what your body was screaming at you to do… Let Eddie take you right here, right now, on his bed.

“Tell me to stop, Princess. Tell me to let it go and I will. Promise.” He extended his pinky finger.

You didn’t take it.

“So, is that a yes?” Eddie asked, scanning your body for any indication that you didn’t want this. That was the last thing he wanted to do, make you uncomfortable.

But with the way your chest heaved up and your thighs were pressed together, he knew.

“Mhm.” You nodded.

Eddie tutted, “Uh-uh, Sweetheart. Use your words.”

This was it. You knew once you uttered these words, your friendship with Eddie would be changed forever. It would breach uncharted territory. The thought of that should have terrified you but, it didn’t. You longed for this.

And right now, wanting his calloused fingers inside of you trumped any hesitation that could’ve formed.

“Yes.”

Smirking, Eddie moved from his seated position and climbed to the edge of the bed. He pulled your ankles with enough force so that you were lying down.

Crawling back up, Eddie hovered over you, his hair falling in your face while his hands started to unbutton your jeans, “You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted to do this, Y/N/N.”

Eddie took his sweet time. He slowly tugged down your zipper and began to peel your pants off of your body. Your hips bucked up so that he could get them past your ass and down to your ankles. He gave them a final pull before they fell onto the floor.

He returned to his position above you. Eddie maintained intense eye contact with you before cupping your clothed pussy.

“You’re so warm, Sweetheart. I bet you’re wet too, hmm?” He used his pointer finger to push your panties to the side, lightly grazing your clit in the process.

He was right. Arousal practically dripped from your pussy and right onto his bedsheets, “Fuck,” He sighed, “Is this all for me?”

“Y-yeah. All for you, Eds.” Your voice was breathy as you tried not to moan in anticipation.

He hummed approvingly before taking his hand away, letting your underwear fall right back into place.

Suddenly, his attention fell onto your neck. Eddie left a trail of kisses starting at your collar bone and kissed up to your earlobe, “Take them off for me, Princess.” He demanded.

You didn’t waste any time, using both hands to slide out of your panties. Before you could toss them aside, Eddie grabbed them from you and shoved them into his pocket, “Don’t worry, Sweetheart. I’ll give them back later.”

You felt his fingers brush the inside of your thigh, inches away from where you wanted him the most. You waited a few more seconds, trying to gauge his next move.

When his fingers kept dancing in between your thighs, you whined, “Eddie, if you’re not going to do anything-” Oh.

You felt as 3 of Eddie’s fingers slipped into your pussy. You could feel the ice-cold rings that littered his fingers brush against your inner thigh as he continued working, curling his fingers.

Eddie began to pump his fingers in and out of you, feeling your chest rise and fall. Lewd sounds and whimpers slipped past your lips when he brought his thumb to your clit and began to flick the bundle of nerves.

His cock strained against his jeans hearing you whine from underneath him, “Cat got your tongue, Princess? Don’t worry, I’ll have you screaming pretty soon.” He smirked.

Eddie increased his pace, which had your moans getting louder and louder each time his thumb circled your bud. Your eyes were snapped shut and your knuckles were white because of how hard you were gripping his bedsheets.

You felt heat begin to rise in the pit of your stomach, “I’m so close, Eds. Keep going.” You begged him.

His fingers didn’t let up as he began to slowly inch down the length of your body. Eddie used his free hand to spread your legs wider before positioning himself between them.

“You’re close, angel? Do you want to cum?” He asked.

“Mhm.” You moaned, arching your back.

“Say it.” You could feel Eddie’s breath fan across your clit.

Even in the heat of the moment, with Eddie’s fingers so furiously pounding your cunt to death, he still didn’t give up.

“Eddie. Please, just, please.” You groaned.

His fingers began to slow down. The coil that was building in your stomach began to fade away as he started to remove his fingers from your pussy.

“What are you doing?” You whimpered at the loss of contact and peered down at where Eddie was perched.

“Say it and I’ll keep going.”

Jesus. Is he really going to pull something like this? Right now out of all moments?!

Eddie could see the cogs churning in your head. He decided to make things even harder for you by placing a ginger kiss right on your clit, causing you to moan.

He’s officially won.

“Fuck! Just…” You stuttered, “Just fucking let me finish, please!” You pleaded, finally giving in after almost 2 weeks of being stubborn.

“Good girl.” He praised before hiking both of your legs up in the air and throwing them behind his shoulders.

He wasted no time, getting immediately back to work by showing your clit the most love and attention. Eddie licked a stripe up your cunt causing you to gasp.

You could feel waves of heat build-up again, followed by the coil threatening to snap as he continued to lap at your pussy.

Eddie glanced up and saw the way you were clutching his sheets for dear life. He peeled your left hand away and guided it to the back of his head. You then added your right hand into his locks without assistance, “Shit! Eddie, I’m almost there.”

You felt your orgasm approach as you began to clench around nothing and grind onto his face. The hands that were intertwined in his hair tugged on it, causing his face to angle slightly upward towards you.

As flashes of light began to cloud your vision, signaling to yourself that you finally reached your high and came all over Eddie’s sheets, you felt the bed begin to shake.

Shit, was my orgasm that powerful? You thought, highly confused.

You felt Eddie’s movements come to a stop. His head was still laid between your thighs, your fingers were still laced through his mane, pulling on it.

Holy. Shit.

You were frozen in your spot when you realized what was really happening. It wasn’t your orgasm that was so intense that caused the bed to shake, it was Eddie. Humping it. It really shouldn’t have gotten you as riled up as it did.

“Fuck, Princess. You’ve got me going feral.” He grunted, continuing to pound his mattress into oblivion.

You didn’t remove your hands from his hair as he continued to fuck his mattress. You watched, dumbfounded, and highly turned on because of this.

For almost two weeks, Eddie had been teasing you nonstop. Constantly doing things to intentionally get you turned on. You decided that it was your turn to add fuel to the fire, “Good boy.”

“Jesus. Fuck. God, I wish this mattress was you right now.” His head fell on your thigh and kissed it.

“Shit!” He swore once more, before letting out a grunt, letting you know that he had finished.

The aggressive movements came to an abrupt stop and he stood up and climbed fully into bed. He brushed away the hair that was matted to your forehead with sweat.

“That was….” Eddie sighed, flopping his head next to yours.

“Fun? Liberating?” You quoted him from earlier that night.

He scoffed, “It was, wasn’t it?”

“Fuck yeah.” You said, loud and proudly.

A grin slowly appeared on Eddie’s face. You swore, without even being provoked, “That’s my girl.” He kissed the top of your forehead.

#eddie munson #stranger things #joseph quinn #stranger things 4 #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson smut #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader smut #strangerthings #stranger things imagine #jey writes #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #Eddie Munson smut oneshot

[saiidahyunie]

ballroom extravaganza

minatozaki sana x f!reader || cont. of fake and true ! pt.3 here

synopsis: you scored the date with the girl from the bar, things are shaping up for the better (maybe/maybe not), and your cousin mina is starting to raise some suspicions.  

warnings: fluff ; smut!! ; sana giving/recieving ; reader recieving/giving ; fucking in the car/office/bedroom (freaky deaky) :D ; sana being needy ; sana praising ; cursing ; anything else i didn't let y'all know ; might be proofread

a/n: dang y'all really like sana don't ya? (bias wrecking me ill never recover) hope you guys enjoy this second part as much as the first one!

you’re basically jumping out of your own skin when you hear the knock on your door, and twirl around to see the bedside clock. 

8:29 

a minute early. you’d be impressed to keep the hefty lunch in your stomach to not vomit it out. 

“coming!” you cry out, before taking a second to fuss with your current appearance. you played it simple, the flashiest part of the red dress that shuhua loaned you. like the black one, it’s slim-fitting and short, the neckline cutting above the swell of your breasts. your lips are a stained deep red, just to match. tzuyu always said to you that the color was striking for you to pull off. 

after straightening the dress, you step out of your room and walk towards the entryway of the door, taking a second to toe on your black pumps. and then, with a steady exhale, you open the door. 

sana stands on the other side of it, one hand in her pocket of your black slacks and the other carrying a bouquet of roses that she promptly shoves at your chest. you take them, cradling to your body, and look up to find her already gazing at you, eyes raking from the top of your head and down. again and again. 

“hey.” 

“hi.” you smile at her. “these are really beautiful, thank you.”

sana jerks her head in acknowledgement, and you can see the faintest flush of pink spreading to the tips of her ears. you bite your lip as you set the flowers down, staving off the rare urge to giggle. 

she’s still standing by the door, holding her arm out. “so are you ready to go?” 

you take it, curling a hand around her bicep, letting her lead you out. “please.”

—

“alright,” sana says, laying her menu flat on the table, staring at you with grave seriousness. “speak.” 

“huh?” you look away from the giant, crystal chandelier hanging above you two. the restaurant she’d take you to was only slightly less fancier than the one at the four seasons hotel. 

slightly. 

“i can tell you want to say something.” 

you smile nervously. “yeah, about your driving, maybe. i thought we were gonna—” 

“y/n.” she says firmly; it has the same affect as dumping a bucket of ice water over your head. “no bullshit. you might as well say what you wanna say.” 

“fine.” and this is easy to sink into, your mode of no-nonsense: the compartmentalization of what stresses you. “why did you give me the money?” 

“because i wanted to.” 

“i know, but why? did you feel bad for me?”

“a little.” 

you grit your teeth. “did you pity me?” 

“no.” 

“then what?” 

“i’ve been in your position before. kind of.” 

“what do you mean.” 

“struggling college student, a shitty job, caming from harebrained ways to get money. everyone who’s gone on the path to grad school, doesn’t matter if it’s med, law, blah blah blah whatever, knows how fucking hard it is to survive.” 

your cheeks flush from sana’s words, picking at the white table cloth. “so you empathized with me?” 

“basically.” sana says, sitting back in her chair, smiling at you. your eyes follow along the lazy draw of it. “i didn’t expect you to be so difficult about it.” 

“it’s not like it’s common to give strangers hundreds of dollars within an hour of meeting them. forgive me for being concerned.”

“do you still want to give the money back to me?” sana asks. 

“yes.” 

“okay. then let’s change the subject.” diverting to the basic cookie cutter icebreaker in existence. “what are you majoring in?” 

“sana—”

she reaches across the table and grabs your hand, squeezing it slightly. dazzling brown eyes swallow up your field of vision as she leans into you. “what are you majoring in?”

you bite your tongue. you don’t want to relent into sana’s charms; mina would have your head if she knew that sana was running away with it. but she’s making it so so easy, smiling when you answer, “i’m finishing up my bachelor’s in child education. aiming to get my masters in child’s psychology.”

“you like kids?” 

“yeah,” you reply, visibly softening to sana. “last summer i did my internship at a local kindergarten and i love it. kids are…easy in a way that people aren’t.” 

“what do you mean?”

“they don’t expect anything from you. not anything beyond food or water or playtime. you know, nothing super sophisticated or adult. and they’re easy to talk to. they don’t care what you say to them or if you don’t talk much in general. they’re not judgy and it’s nice.” you hit that right out of the ballpark, and sana stares with lips parted as the facts are laid out for you. 

“i’ve never thought about them that way,” she says, her hand shifting atop your own. her thumb skims across your knuckles. “it sounds nice.” 

your heart thrums like a hummingbird against the walls of your chest. every languid caress pulls a shiver from you. “you don’t like kids?” 

“i don’t dislike them. i’m neutral, i guess. i know i’d like to have my own.” sana replies. 

“do you have any siblings?” 

“nope. i’m an only child.”

“i would’ve never guessed,” you say dryly. 

“ha! has anyone told you you’re funny?” sana inquires, and you’re stifling a laugh while she’s smiling at you, gaze fond. “what about you?” 

“well, i’m an only child.” you reply. normally you’d leave it at this. you don’t really like the notion of getting into the nitty-gritty of your past, but sana’s presence robs any reticence from you. “my parents passed when i was younger so i was raised by my aunt and her cousin.” 

“oh.” sana slips her fingers into the spaces of your own and squeezes gently again. “i’m so sorry.” 

“it’s okay,” you say, smiling awkwardly. “it happened when i was little. i’m kind of accustomed to it now.” 

“can i ask you a question?” 

“a personal one?”

the corner of sana’s mouth quirks. you want to trace it with your fingers.

“if you were in that desperate of a situation, why didn’t you ask her for help?” 

“i can’t afford to take any money from my aunt or cousin. she can’t afford it.” 

“did you try asking?” 

“i’m not saying she would’ve said no. but if she tried, i wouldn’t have accepted it.” 

“sounds startlingly familiar.” 

you pull your hand from hers with a smile and an eye roll before picking up the menu in front of the table, raising it up high enough to cover sana’s face. 

“can we order something now?”

—

when you get back in the car, you’re warm, languid with a stomach full of risotto and red wine. sana’s hand rests on the gear shift between you, the other one on her wheel. you like watching the motion of them as she drive, like the curls of sana’s knuckles and the rasp her palm makes against the wheel when she turns it. you wish to feel the warmth of it against your leg. 

well, in a city like new york, it’s nothing more than unpleasant. 

“you know i wasn’t kidding when i told you that you’re a horrible driver.” 

“do you own a car, y/n?” 

 “i usually take the subway.” 

“okay. pro-tip if you ever do drive in these streets, better to be offensive than dead. or stuck in traffic for two hours. which, believe it or not, is fucking worse.” 

but despite sana’s words, she seems to listen to you. the drive stretches longer, and you lean into the plush leather seats as you stare out the window, dreading the sight of every familiar building, the street signs that you know lead to your apartment. for a moment, you debate asking to get ice cream, or go to the park, a movie theater–-anything and everything to extend this. you don’t want to leave the pleasant warmth of her car. 

“y/n?” 

you look over to see her smile. “i thought you were asleep.” 

“i’m not tired.”

she takes her hand off the gear shift, thumbs a lock of your hair without breaking your gaze. unwavering. 

“neither am i.” 

when she pulls into your squat, little apartment complex, you’re gripping the edge of your seat, nails squeaking against the buttery leather. she smoothly pulls into an empty space, parking backwards—what a show off—-before turning to you. with as huddled into the seat as you were, her hand is behind the headers, arm bracketing you, you feel consumed. surrounded by her scent, in her car, the engine humming beneath them, with her so close. you can’t breathe without inhaling her.

sana’s noticed it too. her eyes have gone dark, swallowed by her pupils. 

“i had fun,” she says. 

“me too.” 

her mouth twitches. “you gonna try giving me the money back now?” 

you jolt at the reminder, bending to snatch you purse, but sana’s hand flies from her headrest to your hand, hot over your knee.

“i was kidding. i don’t want it back. i don’t need it.”

“sana—” 

“y/n.” she interrupts firmly. “i don’t need it. and in my opinion, i think you can do a hell of a lot more.” 

your defenses waiver before they crumble completely, and you feel your chin wobble. to your horror. “you’re too nice to me.” 

she grabs it, pressing her thumb into the plush of your bottom lip. your stomach clenches as sana’s eyes flicker down, anticipation making your headlight. 

“i don’t think i’m nice enough,” she whispers, but it barely registers. you’re already reaching for her, mouth open to beg; hand on her wrist, and she meets you half-way, swallowing your muted please. 

sana’s kiss is desperate, intense like the rest of her. one hand buried in your hair while the other presses against your knee, a searing, overbearing heat that sinks into your insides, coiling tingly in the pit of your gut. despite your furious protestations to tzuyu, you haven’t felt this in a while, the wet-warmth of another mouth against your own, the life of someone else’s tongue, opening you up further. 

you press closer, so frantic you almost climb over the armrest, but sana pushes you back down to your seat. she breaks away from your mouth to kiss down the line of your throat, flicking her tongue out to taste your overheated skin, smiling when you sigh. your hips jerk beneath her hold when she sucks at your pulse point. 

she grins, teeth nipping at your jawline. “you like that, sweetie?” 

there’s a shock-wire running from the heat of her mouth to her clit. sana’s barely touched you and you’re already keyed-up, on the cusp of euphoria. if you touched yourself now, you’d be so far gone, but you’re not sure she’d let you.

sana returns to kissing your throat, pausing to suckle at it with teeth and tongue, laving it against your skin in soft, wet strokes. she uses the hand in your hair to tilt your neck towards her, directing you like a puppet on strings. her other hand roves up and down your exposed thigh in gentle motions, more exploratory than anything, as if she can’t keep from touching you. and the thought sends a jolt of electricity to pass through you, sparking between your legs. it makes your hips can’t, makes the desperate need for friction a burying, voracious thing, primed to consume you. 

when she kisses the swell of your bottom lip, it comes out of you in a breathless pant, nails biting the seat. “p-please touch me.” 

“where?” sana asks, thumbing the hem of your dress, close enough to be a physical pain. “where, baby? here?”

“n-no.” 

“then where, y/n?” your eyes are black, eager with predatory intent, and you hate how much you love it; the consuming weight of her attention, like she wants to eat you whole. 

without much coronation, you take sana’s hand and shove it between your thighs, spreading them wide. you’re initially afraid that she’ll keep teasing you, that she’s lost in the power trip, but she surprises you when she groans and kisses you roughly, fingers tracing up your slit. 

“so fucking wet you are,” sana raps when she breaks away, almost crazed. she dips her hand beneath the waistband of your panties, the sensation of her fingers against your sensitive skin sending your eyes rolling. your hips buck, demanding delicious friction, and she surges in, laughing into your mouth. 

“you can cum just like this, can’t you?” she asks, voice rumbling against your cheek. her thumb slides up and down the seam of your cunt, the heel of her palm adding the barest pressure to your clit, but it’s good. the mere taste of it almost enough to send you over the edge, just for the sweet torture. 

her knuckles pull against the gusset of your panties as two of her fingers center over your clit. her pace at first is light, slow, exploratory like the way it’d been on your leg. her eyes on your face are focused. she wants to know what’ll take you to the edge, and you know it isn’t this. so you grab sana’s wrist and raise your hips to force pressure. 

“faster,” you pant, liquid gaze cutting to her. “h-harder. i like it–” 

she steals the words from you, kissing again with a mouth full of bite. the motions of sana’s fingers quicken, slide down to the tease of your e trance while you grind frantically into her palm. you’re so wet you easily accept the glide of her first finger, and when she pushes in the second, the stretch is sweet, a welcome thing. you thrust onto them, wishing vainly that she’d toss you into the backseat and fuck you with something more.

the thought makes you clench around her, and she curses loudly, burying her face into your sweaty neck. 

“are you always this depsrate when you’re getting fucked?” sana hisses, thrusting her fingers into you harder, without relent. “you always feel this good?” 

you choke out a sob, feeling the familiar swoop in your belly, the swelling tide that welcomed euphoria. as you clutch her wrist, chasing it, sana rests her head atop your shoulder, her voice going soft, reverent. 

“you’re so good, y/n,” she says in a frantic stream, mad with want. “so good. so, so fucking good. my perfect girl.” 

you keen when it washes over you, that white-hot heat that robs you of sense. you shudder beneath sana’s grip, clutching her wrist as you ride it out. she helps you come down from it, kissing you languidly and keeping her pace inside you slow. when you can breathe again, she pulls them out of you. you flush hotly when she sticks her fingers in her mouth, but the embarrassment doesn’t linger long. you surge toward her, hands flying towards the button of her pants. meets her in another frantic kiss.

“i wanna make you feel good now,” you whisper, palming her. “i want—”

sana uses her hand in your hair to bind you up against her and kisses you again, long and full enough to make the words melt from your tongue. you’re hazy when she pulls away, pliant. 

“i think,” she says. “that there’s always next time.” 

“next time?”

“next time,” sana repeats, rubbing your cheek with her thumb. “it’s late anyway. you should go to bed.” 

“oh,” you say blankly. “okay.”

sana kisses you again, twice on your nose, before leaning over to open your door. you stumble out of her car, binding your purse tight against your chest. you wave at her from the entrance of her building before you step inside, and see the shadow of sana’s hand as she waves back, driving off. when she turns onto the street, you rush inside, a hot, sharp balloon swelling in your chest. 

your hands shake when you slot the key into your door and turn the knob, switching on the lights. you kick your shoes off and toss the purse onto the couch, moving on muscle memory. you can’t think beyond the warm, floaty haze that’s clouded your mind, and when you shut the door behind you, you laugh. 

over and over. carelessly. all the while remembering the firm grip of sana’s hand and the scent of her, clogging your nose even now, a smell you want to bottle up and keep. 

next time, you think, giddy, nearly dancing in the small space. she said there’d be a next time. 

just then, you hear the high trill of your phone and dart to the couch, yanking open your purse to fish it out. you flush a pink when you notice the notification next to sana’s name– a text that reads, goodnight- and as you go to type your response, another notification pops up. one from venmo. 

a cold spike of adrenaline shoots through you when the app opens, fingers trembling. you almost drop your phone entirely at the number attached: $1,000 dollars. 

“for school,” it reads. 

your breath quickens. the hot balloon in your chest expands and expands until it pops, a physical pain against your ribcage.

i thought— your eyes burn. the realization sinks into your like molasses. i thought she—

the night you met sana, she expressed concern when she learned why you were there. she’d condemned jihyo and implied that you deserved something more, something better. she’d left you money as a gift, to be kind. 

a gift, sana told you. you don’t owe me anything. 

so why is it, then, that you have the distinct impression that jihyo had been simply outbid. 

—

you’re thinking about next time. sana said that there’d be a next time. 

that next time would come, then twice.

then a third.

and after.

the day after that, and the day even after that. 

the room is reverberating the echoes around you, loud with the sounds of heavy pants and wet slaps of skin. you’re clinging to the sheets beneath you, pushing yourself up, moving your hips to meet the frantic pace of sana's fingers curled up inside you. sana then buries a hand into your hair and hitches you up for a kiss that never takes. it’s broken quickly, leaves both of your swollen mouths parted and breathing of each other’s oxygen. you’re relishing the intimacy of the moment. 

when the building pressure at the base of your stomach grows to become too overwhelming, you fall back on the mattress, unmoored without sana’s presence, but she follows you as she always does. she’s binding her arm around your waist and raises you up, hand cupping your cunt while she’s all over your neck again. 

“c’mon,” sana says, voice wrecked, torn from her. “c’mon, honey, one more.” 

you gave sana the opportunity to sit on her face earlier, brown eyes flashing dark and predatory at you while you grind all over her mouth. the hot curl of her tongue relentless against you, reducing you to a living nerve ending. sana wrung out two splintering orgasms out of you, flipping you on your back before you could even recover. you loved it, and you still do, seeing all the ways that you can challenge sana. 

her slender fingers dip down to your clit again and causes you to moan loudly, rocking into her as she circles it firmly: rough, fast motions that she’s learned that you love. to bring you back to that edge quick. 

sana kisses you again, her other hand slipping to your breast above and squeezing. she’s groaning into your core, it’s making you fall deeper into the madness of your situation. 

“you’re so—” she barely mumbles out, her hand on your breast slides down to clamp the divot in your hips. sliding the pillow under the arch of your back in one seamless motion. she’s too good with her hands. “fucking unreal, and perfect.” 

her mouth against your other mouth starts the chain reaction. you’re moaning out more strain behind it. a star-burst of affection igniting in your chest. sana continues to swipe her tongue, the unyielding pressure that makes your vision swimmy, and you let go. 

you’re sobbing out while your hands are trying to find what’s left of the comforter as ecstasy steals over you. sana continues to drive her fingers and tongue into you, letting you feel it: in the air, at the base of your throat, between the rapid, uneven pacing of thrusts from her fingers. when you’re all tuckered out, the clenching fading out from your cunt, soaked with slick while it gets on different parts of your skin; from the leg, to one of your obliques, to the small peak of your boob. 

“o-okay, that’s e-enough.” 

“you taste so fucking good,” sana murmurs, mouth hot against the column of your neck. her hands trailing up and down your stomach. “when you clench around my fingers is just—” 

fucking shit this woman. “sana, please.” 

she sits up with a chuckle, and you’re at the same level too, instantly resting your head on her shoulder, kissing it. sana wraps her arm around your waist, kissing the top of your head, her fingers are tapping away at the v-line. you look up and she kisses you, grinning with delight. 

“will you stay over?” you ask, too plaintive when she pulls away. sana’s smile falters and you feeling the realization, disappointment inbound. 

“i can’t.” a spike lances through you. “my department has a meeting early in the morning. i can’t skip.” 

“oh.” you hate yourself for being upset—she’s a doctor, of course she’s busy—but the feeling rises up anyway, along with the insidious notion that she’s gotten what she wanted and so has little use for you now. without thinking, you start to drift away from sana in slow little increments that she catches, and she pulls you up tight against her, pressing her lips to your hairline. 

“i wish i could say,” sana whispers. “if it were up to me, i’d be here with you everyday.” 

the words are cruel, considering what they are–what you are—but the pain is stamped down. masking it with teasing. “how would you work then?” 

“i’m sure my supervisor could find someone else to fill my place. someone as equally ecstatic to dig their hands into some guy’s intestines.”

“you’re so…casual when you talk about your job.” you say out of respite. 

“are you worried?” sana asks. 

“no.” answering while tracing fingers across sana’s chest, over her still-racing heart, before tapping her chin. “but it makes me wonder if i should be.” 

“is the child psychology major going to psychoanalzye me right now? when i’m twenty-nine years old nearing thirty?” 

“you know the issues of childhood can be far-reaching. you never stop feeling the effects of it.” 

“incredible.” you laugh when sana dips her head and takes your finger in her mouth, biting it gently. “but i’ve always been this way.” 

“which is?” 

a half-feral grin spreads across sana’s face before she abruptly flips you over. you yelp into her mouth as she kisses you, long and slow, and settles over you. she breaks away, still grinning. “crazy about you.” 

you’re flushing hotly, which makes her bark out a delighted laugh, and sana kisses you again. over and over and over. her lips trail from your fluttering eyelids to the tip of your nose to your chin, every nook and cranny of your face that she can reach. when her lips meet yours again, you can taste the sugar on her tongue.

“god, i wish i could stay,” sana rasps, breaking away, and you cling onto her. 

“then stay.” 

“if i did, i’d have to leave at 5 to get ready at my apartment in order to be at the hospital on time. also you have an early class tomorrow. chances are i’d wake you up and you wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep.” 

your jaw tightens, and teeth catch your tongue. you don’t want to accuse sana of making excuses, because you know she’s right; it’s happened before. and that’s what burns you, the idea that your angst could have no standing. the operating off of your injured feelings and nothing substantial. this is transnational after all. 

“okay.” you say, coolly. “guess this is goodbye then.” 

“bye y/n.” sana says, kissing your mouth. “goodnight.” 

sana kisses you several times, smothering you in affection. she only stops after you simple, nipping at your nose once before rising off the bed. you watch as sana peels away off the bed, walking around your room, picking up her clothes from the floor and pulling them on. when she’s done, she strides over to you and slides a nick of your hair back, kissing your forehead. 

“i’ll call you tomorrow, sweetheart.” 

“okay.” 

sana ducks down, skating her nose along the edge of your hairline, keeping her mouth close to your ear. “i’ll see you later.” 

you move your head and catch sana’s lips. against them, whispering. “mn, see you later.” 

you notice with some satisfaction that sana’s eyes are fevered as she pulls away, dark with wanting, and you shove your face back into the pillow, clinging to it. sana mutters a soft curse and makes her way to the door, only to immediately jam the knob when she goes to close it. she mutters a curse again, much louder. 

“just give it a little wiggle,” you say, sitting up. “it gets a little tight sometimes when you twist it.” 

“how long has it been like this?” 

“since i got the apartment.” 

“what the fuck?!” sana exclaims. “did anything else come broken?”

“sometimes the water pressure in my shower is really low.” 

“jesus christ, y/n.” sana says again, louder, angrier. “why haven't you told your landlord?” 

“trust me, i have.” you say shrugging your shoulders. “if i said anything more than that he’d just shut off the water entirely.” 

sana sounds pressed, jiggling the knob harder. “i’ll kill him then.” 

“it’s really not that ba—” 

“i’m coming back next week with a repairman,” sana interjects, tone brokering no argument. “i can fix the doorknob myself but i’ll get a plumber for the shower.” 

you duck your head, embarrassed. “you really don’t have to do that, sana.”

“i want to,” she replies, eyes softening when she looks at you. “i don’t want you living in some shit-hole with no running water.”

“i have running water.” 

“we’ll see what the plumber says.” and with that, sana gives up on fixing the jam and breezes past the doorway. a few seconds later, you can hear sana at the front door shut behind her. with a deep sigh, you fall back into the bed and reach for your pillow, thick with her scent, and curls around it to fall asleep. 

in the morning, you wake up to a ten dollar venmo notification for coffee and the contact information of the plumber sana mentioned. 

—

“why haven’t you got my calls or texts?” is the first question that mina asks when you answer the phone. you stifle a laugh. 

“well, good to hear your voice mina.”

“you haven’t called me,” she says again. “is everything okay?” 

you sigh and sink into your loveseat, socks skipping over the fractured leather. your fingers cradle the coffee mug. “nothing’s wrong.” you say. “i’ve been really busy.” 

“with what?” 

“school,” is what you reply with. “not sure if you’ve kept up, but i’m in my last year now. i’ve been getting most of the important work done as much as i can.” a second passes before you add, “and communication is a two-way street. you haven’t been calling me either.” 

“busy with work.” is what mina says in defense. 

“see?” you quirk, a sip of coffee passing through your mouth, tapping your fingers on your knee, waiting for mina to speak. neither of you are particularly verbose, so the shared calls usually play out like this: tense silence, quick updates, the voids that harbored resentment. but you’ve grown far from the desire of mina to be soft for you (she has, doesn’t want to admit it) and you’re just accustomed to the dispassion. 

for the final question on the script: “do you need any money from me?” 

“no, mina. i don’t need money from you or auntie.” 

“i assume the tips are good at your job then?” 

“even better.” 

she hums, like this was real answer, saying, “if you ever need anything, call me.” 

“you know it when i do.” 

“okay then.” 

mina hangs up with a click before the goodbye is even truly articulated on the tongue. 

—

your ears perk up when a knock is heard on the door, moving from your kitchen to walk to the entrance. curious, you open it, only to be swept up into sana’s arms before you can even say hello. she kicks it shut behind her and pins you to the old wood, lips roving over your face. 

“what—” she kisses your mouth twice in quick succession. “—are you doing here?”

“left the hospital for my lunch break,” sana breathes, hitching you up so that a leg is wrapped around her waist. she dips to suck your collarbone, mouth curling when she hears you mewl. “decided to come here.” 

“d-did you eat?” 

“no.” 

sana’s hand slides up from the curve of your ass to your breast, squeezing gently. you moan softly, head thumping against the wood. “you—you should.” 

she separates from your throat to shoot a sly grin. “i’d rather eat you out first.” 

mindless, spurred by sana’s passion, you surge down to kiss her. tightening your legs around her, thighs squeezing as sana’s hand cups your clit. with every pass of the hand, you can feel the shift of your underwear, panties clinging. 

sana buries her hand into your hair, yanking back to expose your throat. she ducks her head to you for another kiss, trailing her lips up and down the line, tongue darting out to taste. her other hand dips down to your ass to bind you up against her, rolling until your toes curl. you sigh and slide your hand into sana’s hair. it would be so easy to just cum from this, but you’d rather put sana’s mouth somewhere else. 

you pull her up by her hair, stomach clenching at the naked want on sana’s face. her eyes, half-lidded and hazy, are trained on your open mouth. when you lick them, her thumb catches your bottom lip. 

“please,” you gasp, moving against sana’s hips. arching. “we need to go to my—” 

sana grins, almost madly, and kisses you hard enough to steal your breath. “what? you’re afraid your neighbors might hear me fuck you again?” 

you blush hotly and sana laughs, but ultimately decides to appease you, heaving you off the wall. she seeks out your lips again and stumbles into the room. impatient, sana kicks open the door, heedless when it slams loudly into the wall. 

you hardly notice also, giddy when sana pushes you onto the bed. it’s a race to get clothes off, pairs of hands fulmbling with the zippers and buttons until sana bats her pants away, you yanking your sweatpants off, meeting for another kiss as she lowers herself over you. you moan loudly when her fingers tease the opening between your legs, feeling the wetness in an instant. 

“my god,” you sigh out, clinging to sana, blood burning beneath your skin; every movement a siren call to your own pleasure. “please, just—just touch me, sana.” 

sana grins rakishly, eyes glittering with mirth. ever the eager observer to your own demise. 

“you’re always so polite, sweetheart.” sana says, and moves down to kiss you. you yourself arch to meet her, pulse skittering at her proximity, at the heady invertibility of mindless pleasure, and—

the lights go out. 

sana stills above you. at first, you’re surprised, waiting for them to flicker back on. this happens sometimes. i mean—the building is old as in 1920s red stone–faulty wiring and out-dated, but nothing comes to fruition. 

“fuck,” you spitt, arousal plummeting to now nothing. you move from under sana. “fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—” 

“what’s wrong?” sana asks. you rise from the bed and she follows you to the kitchen. you snatch a pile of envelopes from your counter to dig through them, only to stop when you notice that the lighting outside is too dim to see. you sigh heavily, marching over to your couch to read by the flickering candles. sana sits down beside you, eyeing cautiously. “what’s wrong?” 

“the light bill,” you croak. “the rental agency upped the price recently but i must’ve paid the old amount without ven thinking. god, how could i be so stupid?!” 

“you’re not stupid. don’t talk like that,” sana snaps. she then takes a deep breath, voice much calmer when she adds, “and this is an easy fix. if you pay it now, it’ll be back on in a few hours. this shit happens, y/n.” 

“but i don’t–” have the money. you clench your jaw tight, forcing the words down, but sana can see the pain on your face, can hear it lingering in the air, unsaid. 

“i’ll help you—” you shake your head; you don’t like this, the reminder—” let me help you.” 

“no, sana.” 

“it’s not a big deal. i want to.” 

“i can’t ask you to—”

sana suddenly shifts closer and grabs your face, cupping it between her palms. she looks int your eyes, gaze probing.

“let me,’ she cajoles. “you don’t have to bear the burden of this all on your own. if i’m offering to help you, let me help you.” 

your heart swells. with relief. with dismay. “okay.” 

she pecks your lips before standing up, thumb trailing down your cheek. “where’s your laptop? if your account is set up online, i can pay it now. i still have about forty-five minutes until i have to get back so i can wait with you until then.” 

“it’s on my desk.” 

sana nods once, turning on her heel to march into your room. the second she’s out of sight, you bury your face into her hands, burning with shame. 

—

right after class ends, your phone vibrates. 

you pick it out of your pocket, thumb grayling over your cracked screen to see sana’s contact photo flashing up at you; it was the one taken three weeks ago, with her smiling while you pressed a kiss to her cheek. you’re clicking the green button. 

“hello?” 

“i just realized you’ve never been to my apartment,” sana says, surprising you. “we’ve been together for almost two months and you’ve never seen my house.” 

“oh.” your cheeks flush, pulse skipping at together. “you’ve never really brought it up before.”

“like a fucking idiot. do you wanna come over?” 

your body warms in a near–sudden response, to your eternal horror, and with a bite of your lip. “sure.” 

“cool! i’ll pick you up right now.” 

“you're not working today?” 

“no. i worked eighty hours last week so they gave me a day off. i’m on call, though, which is shitty anyway.” 

“i’m sorry.” 

“it’s fine,” sana dismisses. “so you’re still on campus?” 

“yeah. i just got out of class.” 

“alright, i’ll be there in twenty.” 

“okay. bye.” 

“bye.” sana says, but lingers on the line. for a moment, you think she’s forgotten to hang up, and moves to do it for her until she adds, softly, cutely you might think. 

“i’m excited to see you.” 

your heart thuds, and she hangs up before you can even say something back. 

for twenty minutes, you wait near the entrance of the school, fiddling with your phone until sana texts you to come meet her. finding the car quickly, walking towards the sleek, gray two–seater of her vintage mercedes, and opens the door to see sana grinning at you. a pair of dark sunglasses sit on the bridge of her nose. 

“hi,” sana smiles. 

“hi.” you say back, hating at how shy you still get around her, considering. sana, though, always appears to take a bit of pride to it. 

she chuckles, leaning back in her seat and shifting the car into drive, pulling into the main road. you settle in to watch the hypnotic motion of her hands as she turns the wheel—it almost makes you nostalgic for some reason. 

“so,” sana says, turning onto the street. “how was class?” 

“fine. just sat through a lecture.” 

“about?”  

“well, just the study of psychosocial development of erickson. how the different stages can be embedded by sociological challenges. you don’t want to hear the rest from me.” 

“ah.” you suck a smile in; seeing the cogs in sana’s brain turning. “sounds interesting.” 

“it’s a lot to cover. my professor was telling us about how some guest speaker that’s gonna be presenting next month. apparently she specializes in existential psychotherapy so i’m thinking of seeing that when it comes.” 

“that’s really cool. do you know the name?” 

“no.” you appreciate the effort that sana is showing. elizabeth, as wonderful and cool she was, tended to block you out sometimes: on the occasion she ever needed to. “what about you? how was work?” 

sana groans. “terrible. a guy was rolled in with a bullet wound and was hemorrhaging like crazy. i was able to stop the bleeding and get the bullet out, but the anesthesiologist almost od’d him and killed him. idiot.” 

“wow,” you say. “is he okay now?”

“yeah. but i’m never having that dumbass with me at the table again.” 

“you might have to, though. you’re a new doctor, sana, i don’t know if you have the luxury of writing off your co-workers.” 

sana smirks. “i might.” 

flicking the blinkers on, she turns on the road that leads them deeper into the upper west side. sana drives into a small parking lot behind a tall building before pulling into a space. once the car shifts into park and the keys are yanked out, you step out, mouth parting as you take in the veritable skyscraper in front of you. 

“you live here?!” 

“yeah,” sana says, taking your hand. seeing the stupefied expression, grinning and leading you inside. a red-headed doorman greets sana as you make your way across the lobby. the elevator didn’t even feel like an elevator and once you got past sana’s front door, you’re in full flabbergasted mode—eyes open like saucers. sana smiles at your gasp but when her eyes flicker to you they narrow. 

“i thought it would be a penthouse of sorts.” 

“trust me, it is but at the same time it isn’t.” 

sana’s apartment may not be as lux as you initially thought, but it’s still nice regardless. you can tell that it was costly, dark furniture andwide, open spaces and tall windows. the walls are painted with a light grey. a flat-screen plasma tv hangs in her living room, mounted over a fireplace. the black velvet leather couch is in front of it, clearly brand new. 

her voice echoes the walls. echoes. you’re left marveling. “are you hungry?” sana asks from the dining area, “i have some food from the other day.” 

“what do you got?” 

“some leftovers from this dimsum place, pretty good actually.” 

you giggle. “i thought you would have a much more sophisticated diet to fall back on.” meeting her at the kitchen island while she opens the box of food, tossing a bite into her mouth while you’re scanning through the dumplings. 

“this is delicous.” you say in between bites, sana leaning over pressing a kiss to your temple. “you’re not eating as much, not enough craving?” 

“i had some food earlier.”

“how earlier are we talking?” 

“before i scooped you up.” 

you hum while she feeds you another bite of the warm dumpling that melts so tenderly into your mouth. 

the relaxing downtime with sana felt like a completely different world in her house. you got to know sana’s rough run down backstory of how she got to some form of power when it comes to dealing with which practitioner helps with her or not. being well-connected in her line of work was something to be fortunate with, but sana doesn’t like the idea of wealth being wrapped around her. sure, her clothes may be nice, demeanor brash and language abrasive at times, but she sees the world in a more different light compared to tzuyu and elizabeth on the topic of privilege. 

as for how she got into her career of being a surgeon, she signed up for dual-enrollment in the last two years of her high school to graduate early. the calling of med school already being long in terms of time, so the sooner she could get out, the better. 

“i like that,” you say. “i like how your mind works. i like—”

you. you almost say it. and it aches to not project it, the sudden sting of yearning. you, you, i really like you.

but catching yourself tripping up was something more of a simple defensive mechanism. “the story,” you finish. “pretty funny.” 

“i have better ones.” sana says, grin lighting up her face, more radiant than sunlight. and her obliviousness burns twice as hot. “do you wanna hear about the time my friend bang chan and his best friend felix got mutual restraining orders back in college?” 

—

you’ve read the name of tobio kageyama for probably the thirtieth time in two manga volumes before your mind decided to call for a needed break. 

sitting upright from the couch, stretching and popping joints across the body. a look at the clock shows that it’s a little past eight, realizing that you’ve studied for roughly about two to three hours. too bad you didn’t notice it before because your brain is already bugging and battered into mush. 

so you head to the kitchen, glass cup filled before drinking it once or twice before noticing that sana hasn’t drank any water since she took up a fortress in her office two hours ago, claiming that she had a work call. you fill another glass again, dropping a few ice cubes, before making your way towards her office door–knocking once, “hey, you busy?” 

sana’s voice sounds muffled, weary. “no, come in.” 

entering the room, hesitant like you were intruding on some sacred space. like the rest of her house, sana’s office was nice, richly-furnished. she has a tall, wooden desk in front of her, several files and stacks of paper placed on top. there’s a bookshelf behind in the corner, thick tomes marked by names that you don’t even want to try to read or recognize. the walls are also painted in a dark gray, and there’s a leather couch off to the left side with a blanket placed over it. even sana needs to have her naps sometimes. 

sana then calls for your attention, glasses perched on the bridge of her perfect nose. “did you need something?” 

“no,” you say, inching closer. raising the glass, “i just wanted to get you some water.” 

she smiles in thanks, taking it from you while she approaches with an outreaching hand, grabbing the glass downing it in one gulp. frowning with a mild concern once she gave you back the glass, “were you thirsty?” 

“a bit. i didn’t feel it until now.” 

“are you hungry?” 

“not right now. i’ll eat when im finished with this.” 

“you should take a break,” you say, stepping towards sana. you lean back with your butt to the edge of her desk, half sitting. up close, you can see sana’s stress more evidently, eyes low with exhaustion. “sit on the couch with me. we can watch something together.” 

“i can’t do that, y/n.” 

“why not?” would a short film be better?” 

“i have paperwork. a lot of paperwork. not to mention forms, test results, patient files. i want to try to get through them by tonight.” 

“and you will,” you reply softly, stepping between her legs, resting your hands on her shoulders. “just ten or fifteen minutes of your time, please.” 

“no way we’re watching a movie in ten minutes.” 

“not the movie, you idiot. i was gonna say food instead, you should eat.” 

“‘m not hungry.” 

“not even a snack?” 

sana lets out a smile, placing her hands on your hips. “i appreciate you for being concerned, baby, but i’ll be done soon. i promise. then we can go get something to eat together.” 

looking down at the ground, hands still on shoulder. you’re smoothening the crinkles of sana’s large shirt, fingers brushing up from her neck up to her hair. you lean down and kiss sana fully on the lips, slowly, once, twice, a few times, and rest your knee on her chair between her legs. you break away a bit to pepper languid kisses across the slope of her jaw. 

“relax,” you croon. “take a break with me.” 

sana sinks into you, sighing like she’s expelling a pressure from deep within her chest. her eyes flutter closed, hands twitching around your waist, and when you dip down to kiss her throat, you feel the flushing heat rising from her body.

desire races to the forefront like a freight train, bowling over you with its inteistiey, and you’re running a hand up her thigh towards the center. sana gasps sharply into your parted mouth, fingers clutching around your waist. you’re nearly smiling. 

“you’ve eaten me out before,” you whisper. “but you’ve never let me do the same for you.” 

sana laughs but it’s off, brimming with echoes of a dark promise. “i find it more enjoyable when i eat up your pussy then have you eat mine. better for me to see you cry the way i want you to.” 

there’s a thrill pulsing through your body, throbbing dully in your cunt. you’re ducking down to kiss her again, practically panging into sana’s open mouth as you palm her through her pants. her face is screwed up with a tight coil of pleasure, eyes shut. her fingers dig into the leather armrests at her side. 

“let me,” you whisper again, almost begging. “i want to.” 

sana’s eyes crack open, solely, regarding you as though you were something to be consumed. i want to, you think with a sort of nameless, desperate sense of urgency. i want you to. 

she nods, and you kneel at her feet. 

you’re kissing through her jeans first, soft, affectionate little pecks that make sana groan, fingers sliding up her legs again. you help sana clumsily unbutton her pants, shucking it down and off her thighs. the panties are quick to follow, only first with a trail of your lips over the black-laced fabric, soaked with her wetness that fills up your nose. sana is wrecked with the effect you have on her, just some light kisses and heavy petting, making your cunt fucking clench; you don’t think you’ve ever met anyone who’s wanted you even half as much. 

when sana’s panties are gone left with her shirt; the scent is intoxicating. her folds are glistening. she sighs of pure bliss when you lick up her slit, mouth lingering on her clit. her hips twitch from the initial contact. you stifle a smile when you shower a few more kisses, and she groans loudly when you part her legs, squeezing her inner thighs tightly the more you shove your face into her cunt. 

you’ve eaten out girls before, but sana was more of an anomaly. to play it safe, you experiment, trying to see what she likes best. licking at her, teasing her walls with a finger, leaving teased kisses to the area outside of her pussy. sana can’t contain herself when she pulls your head back in with her hand, moaning into her core, the vibrations too overwhelming coming from your mouth to her legs. 

“fuck,” sana moans. “fuck, y/n–baby, fuck. i’m gonna—” 

nodding at her, you don’t let up the pace of tearing up her cunt. fingers in walls and grunting into her. she doesn’t even let you breathe. the heels of her feet on your shoulders as her hands are on the back of your head, nails scratching the scalp the more you’re lapping her up. only then you pull away as she coos out locking eyes with you, the sight of licking your mouth lean with your tongue from her slick almost makes her lose it from the seat. 

“i’m gonna ruin you,” sana promises, snarling, gaze devouring, mad with want. it sends a deep vibration into your cunt while she looks up to the ceiling. “you won’t be able to walk.” 

you could’ve just came right then and there, vision whiting out at the edges. somehow you kept your sanity in check, ducking your head for more fully. humming and sliding your tongue over her cunt, nibbling on her clit and with a sudden jerk followed by a sharp groan, she cums. 

a whole assortment of papers, files, pens, and pencils are scattered to the floor as sana digs her hand beneath your shirt and rips it off of you. your lips meet hers for another frantic kiss, laying back as she’s settling over you. 

she shoves your sweats down along with your panties, letting them dangle from your feet. sana then moves back to your chest, hands moving like a firebrand, searing your skin with every touch. desperate to feel more of it, you sit up slightly and unclasp your bra. the second you’ve tossed it, sana’s hands are quick to palm, mouth hot against your own as she swallows your keening sigh. 

“you have the most perfect tits in the world,” sana breathes, thumbs circling your nipples, forefingers roving down to pinch. the sweet pleasure-pain sparks a heavy throb in your core, and she arches into you, spreading your legs wide. you moan when sana’s mouth is around your breast, the other hand folding you. 

“god, sana, please,” you beg, clinging to her. your hips are twitching, the emptiness inside you turning into a physical ache. 

“what is it, baby?” sana switches over to your other mound, tongue laving over your nipple. your eyes fluttering, mind spinning at the sight. “what?” 

moaning helplessly, and her hand slides down to your cunt, thumb sliding up the wet gusset of your panties to find your clit. when she presses down, your hips jerk forward, shrieking. she’s laughing around your boob. 

“yeah, there we go,” sana sighs out, rubbing at you languidly, moving slow with the roll of her hips. “that feels good, doesn’t it?” 

“ye—ah—yes, yes it feels good.” 

“i know.” sana kisses up to your throat, sucking the soft spot beneath your jaw, lips deceptively sweet. “but you want more, don’t you.” 

more. 

your stomach seizes at the thought of it, the promise. you grasp at her wrist and sana hisses, dipping her hand beneath underneath your underwear to slide a finger inside you. keening when she adds another digit, stretching you open—another sounds leaves your mouth and sana laughs when you’re clamping around her fingers.

“you feel so good like this, y/n. so good.” she watches as she fucks her fingers in and out of you, transfixed by the sight. almost resentful of her own body. “i wish i could live in you. i wish—” 

“you could,” somehow croaking that out when she has four fingers inside. “i’d let you.” 

sana lets her intrusive thoughts get the better of her, growling while she surges down your body. your panties are up in the air as she raises a leg up, thumb petting your clit. you’re rearing up with a shout, a splintering sound, bursting, but sana doesn’t give you any breathing room. next thing you know, she has the flat plane of her tongue swiping upward that pushes your undoing even faster. 

it’s good enough to cry, you can feel the salt on your tongue when sana leans up again for another kiss before trailing down to your pussy. there’s a malformation with how the kisses are sloppier on your lips above and below, but the pleasure is good. she makes you feel like euphoria is an ever-present force that is kept within you, and it’s much deeper than the sex. the sprawling root of it is happiness, and sana. 

“c’mon, y/n, my lovely girl,” sana says tightly, jaw clenching when she breathes over your clit. her eyes hazy like she might be the one to cum again. “give me another.” 

you wrap your legs around her, canting up so that her mouth and tongue go deeper, and you both moan from it. sana’s finger finds your clit again, so wet the sound is purely obscene, but it only strokes the fire of your pleasure, makes it build higher and higher. 

“that’s it. there we go. t-there—” 

sana stops short. a bitten-off cry, and she doubles down on your clit. her fingers clench around your walls, and there’s a gentle wave—mouth parted to sigh. 

she stays for a second, pulling her hand out examining the slimy fluid between the fingers, licking them seductively that makes you roll your eyes and look away. sana just laughs at you, “fuck you, for making me like this.” 

your head hits the desk, “not sorry. i like it when you’re needy for me.” 

she huffs out, “little minx. when i’m done with you—” 

“what? i won’t be able to walk?” 

sana’s face falls flat, but her eyes spark with lurid determination as she leans in and whispers, “everything i’ve gotten in life, i’ve had solely because i wanted it badly enough. you think that doesn’t apply to the things i wanna do to you?” 

your heart hammers like a jack-rabbit. red-hot heat slowly consumes your face. “i—”

she moves off of you but keeps her arms bracketing your hips. “we’re moving to my room,” she interjects. “i need a bed if i want you to sit on my face.” 

eyes were wide open while you managed to slip out of sana’s hold, scurrying to the bedroom down the hallway. sana’s signature laugh echoes as she chases you down behind. 

—

it’s a bit chilly outside when mina calls you, the autumn weather creeping beneath your new coat to settle into your bones. hitching the collar up your neck for cover, and the phone is out from your pocket to see your cousin’s name. you’re repressing a sigh, picking up, 

“hey.” 

“yo.” mina has many greetings. “where are you right now?” 

“i got out of class, walking to the subway.” 

“are you by yourself?” 

“yes,” you say. “obviously. why wouldn’t i be?” 

“you usually have that slightly taller girl tagging along with you. the one with the model face.” 

“tzuyu.” you correct sharply. “and you’re not wrong, but she has her own life. you know? a girlfriend?” 

“and you? you got anyone?” 

frozen, stumbling in your tracks. mina could be asking for curiosity, but you know your cousin too well; she’s not the kind to be asking unnecessary questions. 

“no, i don’t,” you answer cautiously. 

“are you sure?” 

“why even bother asking me?” you retort, voice clipped. “even if i was seeing someone. i’d mention it right away, even with thanksgiving around the corner.” 

“i don’t see what thanksgiving has anything to do with it.”

“most normal people introduce their partners to family, mina. not everything personal is some dirty little secret.” 

“don’t you dare try to get snippy with me. i was just asking a question, not cuffing you to a table for an interrogation. chillax.” 

you’re cringing with knitted brows, stepping down the stairwell into the subway station. it’s a lot warmer, “whatever. i just wanted to know why you were asking.” 

“i was asking because you haven’t been calling me lately. i figured that someone else was taking up all of your time besides auntie.” 

your jaw tenses. there’s this wave of guilt that makes your clinch your lip, voice much gentler when you follow up, “i’ve just been busy, mina. you know that.” 

“yeah?” the customary ten seconds of loaded silence pass before mina adds, “speaking of busy, don’t come down for thanksgiving this year. i’m gonna be busy with work.” 

work. the nameless occupation mina had never bothered explaining to you, not since you were in your teens. you’ve had your own suspicions and theories, but you never even had the frame of mind to confirm them yourself. 

even with the disappointment; it’s actually comforting in a weird sense. “that’s fine. i have finals to get ready for anyway.” 

“you’re not upset by this?” 

“no.” 

“and you’re not lying to me about anything, right?” 

“no, mina.” you say, smiling ruefully. “why would i? when have either of us ever lied each other about anything?” 

good as dammed, but there’s no care for it. i wouldn’t even matter anyway. it comes as a concern for how little tinges of that feeling is there still. 

mina sighs out. “talk to you later then, if you do call me.” 

you hang up after. the lasting thought of mina doesn’t even come afterwards. 

—

not even more than two steps into the entrance hallway when the doorbell calls you. 

you’re freezing, eating away at the fragile patience, but when you look through the peephole. you don’t think twice about opening the door. “tzuyu?” 

she’s standing across from you, arms folded, foot tapping, and pouting. “you’ve been neglecting me.” she accrues.

“huh?” you ask stupidly while blinking in a fast state.

tzuyu rolls her eyes and breezes past you, chilling air carrying the rich scent of yves saint-laurent. you follow her into the living rom, watching her shuck off her louis vutton jacket and tosses it onto the seat. 

“well?” she demands, whirling around to face you. “tell me what did she do to you?” 

“what?” 

“your little sugar mommy-doctor-girlfriend.” 

“tzuyu–” 

“whatever she did, she’s good enough to keep you from calling or texting your best friend for a week.” 

“what?” you’re gasping out again. “a week? i haven’t…” 

with a rush of the phone, you’re pulling up messages only to notice that you have, in fact, been ignoring tzuyu’s texts for the better part of a week. all of your besties messages. the only person you’ve kept consistent contact with is sana, and the last text you sent her was–

well—best to the imagination. 

“i’m so sorry,” you breathe out, throwing your phone off to approach tzuyu, taking her mittened hands, gently directing her to sit on the couch. “i’m so sorry, tzuyu. i didn’t mean to ignore you or shuhua or irene or anyone, i just—” 

“you’ve been preoccupied with your new girl?” 

“yeah,” you admit, bit of shame hanging, but adding, “and school. dooyoung–the guy editing my thesis—says it’s coming together really nicely, so.” 

tzuyu whoops, reaching out to shake your leg. “and you’ll be presenting it next semester! how do we feel about that?” 

“pretty good.” 

suddenly, her eyes soften, shifting closer. “i was mostly kidding, by the way, about you neglecting me. i remember how i was when i first got with shuhua. you couldn’t get me away from her.” 

“it’s different, though.” 

“what makes you say that?” 

“because shuhua is your girlfriend and sana is my—” 

you stop, horrified by the abrupt burn of tears. you turn away to conceal yourself, blinking hard, but tzuyu was always quick to notice. she wraps her arms around your elbow, leaning into your shoulder. “your sugar mommy,” she finishes gently, but you flinch like it’s a slap. 

“yeah. that.” 

“if it bothers you so much, then why are you staying with her?” i’m sure she’s given you enough that you have time to figure out another way to get money. it’s not like you need her.” 

“yeah,” you reply dully, still not meeting eyes with tzuyu. your mind is playing the denial aspect a lot more tougher now. “you’re right. i don’t.” 

—

with all things and struggles, you compartmentalize. 

you’re refusing to think of the blooming feelings for sana more than you have to, and in the even that you can’t, distraction was the solution: school, work, friends. and on the rare occurrence as crazy it would seem, shopping. 

“an IKEA drawer?” sana asks, baffled. you keep your phone between shoulder to ear. “why the fuck did you go to IKEA?” 

“i needed to,” you answer, pushing the giant box inside of your apartment, leaning against the wall as it’s on the wall. “my other drawer was broken. i’ve had it for like, seventeen years, so i figured that it was time for a change.” 

“and you could afford it?”

a rhetorical question. what sana’s really asking if the two bundred she sent you last week was a decent enough amount that you could splurge on. clenching your teeth, flushing. 

“yes.” 

“y/n, baby. i sent you the money so that you could go shopping.”

“i did. and i shopped at IKEA.” 

“are you gonna build the drawer now?” 

“yeah.” 

“let me come over. i can build it for you/” 

“sana, it’s fine. i’ve built furniture before.” 

“so have i. in fact, i bet i could have it done in half the time it takes you to read the instructions.”

“oh really now?” cocking a brow in disbelief. “how soon can you come over?” 

—

time didn’t really pass, staring at sana from the bed, chin resting on your palm as you watch her hiss and curse to herself, pink screwdriver in hand. the sweat rolls enticing down the hard ridges of her abs, her hair is up and out of her face in a knot. the most exhilarating part in all of this was watching him use her shirt as a sweat rag. 

“are you sure you don’t—”

“i’m almost done,” sana snaps, eyes flashing with indignation. “just give me ten more minutes.” 

true to her word, she was nearly done. the drawer stands tall in front of her, most of the pieces already constructed and put into place. all that’s missing is the top set of the drawers, which she has in her hands right now. 

still, it’s only mildly entertaining just to watch sana. you debated studying to pass the time, but the focus wasn’t enough on your book to make it stick. reading was also out of the question, and texting irene went nowhere after she revealed that she was on a date and couldn’t speak. the news that things with her and seulgi were going well and exciting to hear, but not long after. sana’s shirt was off. 

“it’s really fucking hot in here,” had been the excuse mainly. 

“is this supposed to keep me distracted? you ask. 

“i’m not trying to do anything. if you’re distracted, that’s your prerogative.” 

liar. she’s been annoyed the second you stopped foching on her long enough to try facetime tzuyu. 

you sigh, spitefully debating on what you can do to fluster sana. the limited options, though, tend to lean more in one direction and the idea of willfully doing any of them was embarrassing. 

suddenly, she whoops. “i finished!” 

you roll over on your stomach to see sana sliding the drawer into the top slot, circling it, pulling on different knobs to test the tightness and checking for smoothness of the pulling out and pushing in of the drawers. she grins at you, triumphantly. “i told you i could do it.”

“i never said that you couldn’t.” 

“it was in your tone.”

you smile, and sana straightens up to bend something in her body. a loud crack sounds, followed by a pained sigh, and her eyes open more glazed. “fuck.” 

soon after sana is laid flat on the mattress when you motioned her, face turned towards you with a look that says are you okay? 

“my back. it’s been annoying me since work—fuck.” 

you nick your head as you cautiously glide your hands over her skin, kneading the muscle softly, and sana just hums with relief. “keep doing that.” 

straddling on sana’s ass, languidly moving your fingers up. she just melts. sana perks up when you giggle. “what?” 

“nothing.” 

“tell me.” 

“i think it’s kinda bad for you to have back pain at your age, and it’s kinda mindblowing how active you are.”

“don’t be that dramatic, i’m not that old.” 

“for someone that’s near thirty.”

“that’s a bit harsh.” 

you giggle again before leaning down, lips skimming sana’s ear lobe. “i’m just teasing you.”

“you’re so fucked up for saying that, i’m only twenty-nine still.” 

“don’t be so sensitive.” you say pressing a kiss to her nape. “not bad if you're in your early late twenties early thirties while i’m in my early twenties.” 

sana sinks into you, like clay in your hands. when you move to the ridge of her cheekbone, she leans into you, turning her head to catch your lips. a languid kiss is shared, tongues melding, unhurried, but that fire is sparked between your hips and it becomes urgent. it’s a slow grind that’s rolled out, eyes fluttering at the friction. 

you pull away while sana breathes out, “fuck,” and flips you over now that you’re straddling over her front. your hands are on her waist, and sana moves her leg up between your legs, doubling down on the notice that you’re not wearing anything underneath the shorts, lips parting. 

she leans up to kiss you. sana always kisses you, mouth consuming like she wants to suck you inside. “i didn’t know you watching me build furniture would get you so hot.”

“everything you do gets me hot.” 

sana moans and binds you up against her, hips bucking, delicious friction sending stars behind your eyes. you wrap your arms around her neck, panting into her mouth, so euphoric that you want to weep. so happy. 

when she breaks way to squeeze your breasts, a loud knock sounds at the door, startling you. sana, however, is unmoved.

“ignore it,” she says, breath hot on your neck. “ride me.” 

your eyes flutter and you’re grasping at her hair, already picturing it, the slick coming out of you on her leg, the fruition and contact deep enough to send you reeling. and then you hear it: 

“y/n!” another loud knock, more insistent. “open the door!”

shit, you think, cursing, the word flying form your mouth now. “shit, shit.” 

sana pulls away from you, concerned, but you’re already beating her in the scramble. she watches you rush to the mirror to fix your hair. 

“what’s up? who is that?” 

“mina,” you breathes, cold panic pulsing through your veins. “my cousin.”

“oh, well—”

“it’s a bigger deal than you think,” you snap. “and stay here. she can’t see you.” 

sana’s eyes widen. “what–?” 

“stay here, sana.” 

you rush out of the room and hurry towards the front door. through the peephole, you see mina on the other side, arms crossed and expression stoic. you exhale deeply before opening the door, forcing a smile. 

“hi, mina.” 

she hums in greeting, shoulders knocking as she walks past you. when she spots the IKEA box, she stops short. 

“you bought furniture?”

“yes,” you answer hesitantly, clammy fingers clasped behind you. “i needed a new drawer.” 

“why didn’t you tell me?” 

“i need to call you every time i buy furniture?” 

“no. but these things sell for three hundred bucks. it’s expensive.”

“this one was on sale. one–fifty.” 

mina makes a deep sound in her throat, unsatisfied, but her journey is continued throughout your apartment. 

“so, uh. what are you doing here?” 

“it’s thanksgiving tomorrow.” 

“oh. i thought…you told me not to come. you said you were busy.” 

“some time opened up in my schedule,” she says, and finally stops long enough to look at you. her eyes were shrewd, filled with knowing. it only raises the sirens going off in your head louder. “i decided to come see you.”

“ah,” you breathe. “well, um. i didn’t buy any food. maybe we can order–?” 

“why are you so flustered? mina interrupts. “is there something going on?” 

“what? no, no, of course–”

“mina?” icy pinpricks poke your skin, and you slowly turn around to see sana standing in the hallway. her clothes and hair have been fixed, and she smiles at mina with a polite curiosity. 

your cousin’s expression sours instantly. “who the fuck is this?” 

“mina!”

“who is this. why is she in you apartment?!” 

sana walks towards mina, unphased by the insult. she sticks her hand out, “my name is minatozaki sana. nice to meet you.” 

mina peers at sana, neck tilted at an angle that would be comical if not for the fact that you feel like throwing up. finally, she looks at you again. 

“we need to talk.”  

#hyunie #sana x reader #twice x reader #kpop x reader #kpop imagines #twice sana #sana #minatozaki sana #minatozaki sana x reader #twice x you #twice imagines #sana imagines #sana minatozaki #twice fluff #twice smut #sana smut #sana twice

[shadowtriovibes]

can you write one where f!MC is being pursued by an annoying guy she doesn’t like who won’t take no for an answer. it annoys sebastian just as much as it annoys her, so next time it happens he pretends to be her boyfriend and suggests they start fake dating for good measure. eventually they make it for real.

thank you! i love the fake relationship trope sooo much and i’ve yet to see anyone write one with sebastian.

of course, lovely anon!! i haven't seen any fake relationship fic either so i'm happy to contribute a lil something! tbh i sincerely thought this would be a short ficlet but it ended up being just over 2.5k fluffy words of dummies in love 🤩

Title: rumor has it

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Summary: Eric Northcott is relentlessly pursuing you, so Sebastian offers to act as your heroic boyfriend to get him off your back.

"Northcott," Sebastian greets him, leaning against your potions station and resting a hand possessively on the small of your back. "Is there something my girlfriend can help you with?" "Your girlfriend?" Eric asks skeptically. "That's new." "I suppose it is," Sebastian agrees, nonplussed. "Been a long time coming, though." Across the room, Ominis laughs under his breath.

Sebastian Sallow is an excellent young wizard. Clever, well-read, focused – by all accounts, he should be a brilliant strategist.

But sometimes he comes up with the worst ideas you’ve ever heard.

“You musn’t be serious, Sebastian,” you laugh, closing your potions textbook to appreciate the actual madness of what he’d just suggested.

“Why not?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

You roll your eyes as you tell him, “You can’t just pretend to be my boyfriend.”

Earlier that afternoon, the two of you had met up with Ominis in the Undercroft to study after staging a quick exit from the library. While Sebastian was hunting down a book on ancient runes, Eric Northcott had cornered you in the stacks and tried for the second time to convince you to have a Butterbeer with him at the Three Broomsticks instead of “hiding that gorgeous face behind those dusty books like you always do.”

When Sebastian had returned, you were shoving the Gryffindor boy away from you with a tense look on your face, and if he hadn’t just finished a stint of evening detentions for slipping a Puffskein into Duncan Hobhouse’s schoolbag, he would have hexed the amorous git himself.

Since then, he’d been suggesting ways to make him pay, with each idea more fantastical than the last.

“Sure I can, and we can even make a real show of it,” he says with a charming grin. “If you want to get Northcott off your back for good, let’s allow him to think your handsome, roguish boyfriend is the type who would challenge him to a duel if he tries anything untoward.”

“That is a terrible plan,” you deadpan.

“It’s actually not a bad idea,” Ominis chimes in.

You glare at him, because Ominis never thinks that Sebastian’s ideas are any good – even the ones that aren’t completely bonkers.

“What are you playing at, Gaunt?” you accuse him.

“I’m merely suggesting that Northcott may actually accept your contempt for him if it’s for a reason that allows him to save face,” he explains with a secretive smile. “Simply telling him that you’re not interested hasn’t seemed to work thus far, so why not be creative?”

“Creative?” you snort. “Wouldn’t ‘creative’ be blasting him myself the next time he lays a hand on me?”

“As if you need any worse of a reputation,” Ominis drawls, and he has a point.

“Come on, let’s really mess with him,” Sebastian pleads. “You know he deserves to be taken down a peg or two.”

You’re not surprised that Sebastian is able to get you on board so quickly. Truthfully, you think you’d follow him on his harebrained schemes just about anywhere.

“Fine,” you cautiously agree. “But just to scare him off, alright?”

You swear you can see the gears in Sebastian’s head start to turn immediately.

He kicks off his brilliant plan the next day during your N.E.W.T.-level potions class. You’re supposed to be brewing an antidote to Veritaserum, and while the draught itself isn’t necessarily difficult, some of the ingredients are a little tricky to prepare.

You’re focused on trying to carefully slit open some Sopophorous beans when you felt a presence behind you, and then Eric Northcott is draping his arm across your shoulders.

“Need a hand with those?” he offers, trying to sound congenial.

“I’m fine, Eric,” you insist.

“I’m really quite good at potions, you know,” he reminds you, grabbing one of the paring knives off the table and haphazardly slicing one of the beans you’d laid out. “I’d be happy to give you some hands-on lessons if you’d like, one-on-one of course.”

“Sebastian,” Ominis hisses from across the room, having picked up on the conversation while the other boy poured over his notes on wormwood. “Now might be a good time to offer some gentlemanly assistance.”

His eyes narrow when he spots Northcott leaning over your cauldron, clearly trying to sneak a look down your top.

“Don’t let my antidote burn,” Sebastian mumbles as he storms across the room, as if Ominis would ever spare a thought for Sebastian’s cauldron when the show is about to begin.

You bite the inside of your cheek as you watch him notice your predicament, silently pleading him with your eyes to do something to get you out of it.

“Northcott,” Sebastian greets him, leaning against your potions station and resting a hand possessively on the small of your back. “Is there something my girlfriend can help you with?”

“Your girlfriend?” Eric asks skeptically. “That’s new.”

“I suppose it is,” Sebastian agrees, nonplussed. “Been a long time coming, though.”

Across the room, Ominous laughs under his breath.

“Really?” Eric asks dubiously, briefly glancing at your expression. “I was under the impression that the two of you were just ‘best friends.’”

“Well, shouldn’t a good relationship start out as a friendship?” you counter, though you don’t sound entirely convincing.

“Right,” he says slowly.

“Mate, you know how tough she is,” Sebastian says with a charming grin. “Took me ages to convince her to give me a chance, she strung me right along for months.”

You jump slightly when Sebastian slides his hand across your back to your waist, tugging you closer to his side – and out from under Eric’s arm.

“But she finally took pity on me,” he says with a lovelorn sigh, and you narrow your eyes at his dramatics.

“Oh, Sebastian,” you reply, laughing nervously. “You’re hopeless.”

“Hopelessly in love with you,” he says, quickly leaning in to kiss the corner of your mouth.

Before you can react, Professor Sharp wanders by and instructs you all to stop your dallying and focus on your draughts. Eric spares one more skeptical look at the two of you before returning to his cauldron.

Sebastian’s hand on your waist lingers for a moment even after he’s gone, but then he lets it fall.

“Sorry about that,” he says under his breath. “Had to sell it, you’re really a bad liar, you know.”

You think Sebastian doesn’t know the half of it.

(Sebastian’s just glad you avoided his gaze long enough to miss his deep red blush.)

—

As it turns out, the kiss wasn’t enough to convince Northcott that you were properly off the market.

The rumor mill quickly focuses on you and Sebastian – specifically whether or not it’s true that your platonic friendship has become something more.

“I don’t really believe it,” Nerida claims whenever the subject comes up. “Sebastian has always seemed like the bachelor type.”

“He could have had a girlfriend all this time and never has,” Violet agrees, trying to hide her bitterness. “I don’t think he really wants to be in a relationship.”

“Are you joking?” Imelda scoffs. “Sallow’s been a lovesick puppy over that girl for years, I’m just glad she finally came around.”

“She is very protective of him,” Grace speculates. “I remember when Samantha Dale asked him out last fall, I thought she was going to Depulso the poor girl clear across the courtyard!”

You do your best to ignore it, but Ominis stubbornly insists on telling you everything he’s heard.

“I would have thought that the two of you would be better at pulling off a ruse as simple as this,” he says, disappointment dripping from his words. “How hard can it be to pretend to like Sebastian? I don’t have to see him to know that the whole school thinks he’s handsome.”

“You don’t understand,” you sigh, walking alongside him on the way to arithmancy. “It’s… I don’t have to pretend, if you know what I mean.”

“Come now,” he says quietly. “I’m blind, not dim.”

“Then you do understand!” you whine. “How am I supposed to just let him pretend to be my boyfriend to ward off Eric and not go mad from knowing that it’s all a lie?”

“I suppose me telling you to be honest with him about how you feel would go in one ear and right out the other,” Ominis suggests, smirking to himself when you curse at him under your breath.

“Buck up, then,” he says simply. “I’m sure this whole thing will blow up in some spectacular way sooner than later – it is Sebastian, after all.”

—

As per usual, Ominis is correct.

Not even a full day goes by before Sebastian corners you outside the Hufflepuff common room and asks to walk you to dinner, taking your hand in his as soon as he notices some fifth-years studiously watching the two of you as you make your way to the Great Hall.

“I missed you this afternoon,” he tells you as he walks you upstairs, putting on a good show. “How come you didn’t want to study with Ominis and me after class?”

“I just needed to lie down for a little while,” you tell him, not wanting to admit to avoiding the way he’s been so unbearably charming lately.

“Feeling alright?” he asks concernedly.

“Yes,” you tell him. “Just… I don’t know. Out of sorts, I guess.”

“Anything I can do to help?” he asks.

You get distracted by the feeling of him stroking his thumb along your wristbone reassuringly.

“Um… n-no, I don’t think so,” you stutter.

“Surely there’s something I can do to help,” he says, and you wonder if you’re imagining the way his eyes look a little darker than usual, as if his pupils have entirely taken over.

“Like what?” you breathe.

Then he gets that look on his face that he always gets when he��s about to do something stupid.

“Come with me,” he says, tugging you over to a spot along the wall in the reception hall, next to one of those empty cabinets you’d looted for Nellie Oggspire back in your fifth year.

“Sebastian, w-what–” you stammer.

He presses you against the wall, one hand pressed to your waist and the other flat against the stone behind you, boxing you in. He glances around again and clearly spots whatever it was he was looking for, grinning mischievously before he leans in and traces his nose across your cheek.

“Don’t hex me for this,” he murmurs against your lips, and then he’s kissing you.

You melt against the cool stone wall, tipping your head back so Sebastian can tilt his head against yours and completely overtake your senses with his demanding kisses. Without consciously deciding to, you wrap your arms around his shoulders to hold him close to you, desperate to ensure he stays right where he is.

He kisses you well, you think. You know he’s always been a huge flirt, and that he has taken some girls in your year on dates to Hogsmeade over the years, but you’ve desperately avoided any post-date conversations with him because you did not want to know what he and those girls had gotten up to afterward.

Now you know, you think bitterly, but just as quickly you realize you don’t actually care. He’s skilled at this – nipping at your bottom lip to get you to open up for him, sliding his hand between your robes and your dress shirt so he can feel the curve of your waist, nudging a knee between your thighs to pin you even further to the wall.

“Bastian,” you murmur, tangling your fingers in his hair.

He groans against your mouth like he can’t help himself, and you whine a touch too loudly when he grinds his hips against yours.

Then you hear Eric’s voice call out, “Sallow!”

Sebastian looks like sin when he pulls away from you, and not just because his hair is a little mussed from your helpless tugging and his lips are red and swollen.

It’s because he’s smirking, and you quickly realize he’d planned this entire thing.

He’d pulled you to a spot where the Gryffindors on their way to dinner could easily see you being ravished, and it’s not just Eric he’s caught up in it – it’s Leander and Cressida too, some of the worst gossips in the entire castle.

…You are absolutely going to hex him for this, you think.

“Northcott,” Sebastian drawls as he turns around. “Can I help you?”

Eric looks furious, but at least he doesn’t look skeptical anymore.

“You might want to consider someplace a bit more private,” he offers, seething. “I am a prefect, after all. Could send you to detention for being so lewd in public.”

“Fair point,” Sebastian says easily. “In fact, maybe you ought to send us both. Hardly anywhere’s as private as the dungeons.”

You quickly smack Sebastian in the chest with the back of your hand, wordlessly begging him to stop before you actually do have to report to detention.

Mercifully, Eric simply throws a few choice words at Sebastian and stomps off to the Great Hall, Leander and Cressida on his heels to undoubtedly tell the entire school what just happened.

“You’re evil,” you hiss, still catching your breath. “You arranged all that just to embarrass Eric? To embarrass me like that?”

He frowns, confused. “No I didn’t, and I would never embarrass you.”

“You did!” you whine, shoving at his shoulders so he’ll step back. “They’re going to tell everyone and it’s going to make me sound like – like some pathetic girl who’s so desperate to avoid Eric’s attention that she’ll let her best friend feel her up in a busy hallway.”

“That’s not what they’ll think,” Sebastian argues. “And if anyone’s pathetic, love, it’s me.”

You scoff and wrap your arms around yourself, ashamed at how badly you wish you were still wrapped up in his arms instead despite everything you’re saying.

“You think I’m lying?” he asks derisively. “I’m a fool for you, and I would never hurt you. I kissed you like that because I wanted to, and if it happened to embarrass Northcott in the process, that’s even better.”

“Y-you wanted to?” you ask softly.

“I’ve wanted to for so long,” he finally admits.

His hands twitch at his sides like he wants to reach out for you, but he forces himself to behave.

“It’s the reason I came up with this stupid plan in the first place,” he sighs. “So that if anyone at this damn school gets to have the pleasure of walking you to class, or taking you to the Three Broomsticks or – or even kissing you senseless somewhere everyone could see, it would be me.”

You don’t have any words. But even if you did, there’s nothing you’d want to say to him that you couldn’t communicate by tugging him in by his collar and kissing him like you can’t think straight without his touch, so you do just that.

When you both break away to breathe, Sebastian quickly asks, “Are you actually hungry?”

“Not anymore,” you admit, your gaze still on his lips.

Sebastian barely manages to utter the words “Undercroft” and “hurry” in between kisses, but while he determinedly works a claiming bruise into the side of your neck, you whine, “Your common room’s closer.”

—

Once Ominis overhears Cressida waxing poetic about Sebastian Sallow practically mounting his new girlfriend in the hallway by the Grand Staircase, he doesn’t wonder why the two of you never show up for dinner.

#sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian x mc #sebastian x reader #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #eric northcott #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fic #my fic #i LOVE omniscient meddlesome ominis if you can't tell #also i swear the next thing i write is going to be pure filth bc i've been doing cute for several days in a row #unbeta'd we die like men

[fandomxpreferences]

I'll Always Be Here

Masterlist

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Routledge!Sister, Rafe Cameron x Routledge!Sister (reader and characters are all over 18)

TW:18+, mention of domestic violence (nothing graphic), mentions of mental abuse, violence, mentions of blood, mentions of a gun, angst

Summary: JJ Maybank has been your best friend and keeper for as long as you can remember. So what happens when you get caught up with Kook prince Rafe Cameron and he discovers its the not the fairytale it seems.

Word Count:4.6k

Despite popular belief, JJ is a smart man. He may be the hot head of the group, always coming up with harebrained plans, but he's extremely intuitive and observant. He's been your best friend for years. 

It's kind of a given, seeaing as you're John B's little sister. You're only a year younger, and for as long as JJ has known his friend, you've always been by his side. Even when John B whined about having to bring his baby sister, JJ has always made sure you had a place in the group. 

He's always made you feel like you belong and took you under his wing. Which is exactly why he knows something is wrong. He can read you like a book, and he sees the signs before anyone else, even your brother. 

He wasn't happy when you got tangled up with Rafe Cameron and tried to warn you that there's a darker side to the aggressive kook. You insisted that you knew, but that he's never been anything but gentle towards you. 

It's such a cliche, falling for the man who's an asshole to everyone except you. It made you feel special, like you were the only one who got to see the real Rafe. You were young, barely 18, and naive. Oh, how wrong you had been. 

You've been under Rafe's thumb for just over a year now, and the switch in your personality has been mind-boggling. JJ knew something was wrong when you blew off your own birthday party at the Chateau, but the rest of the Pogues wrote it off as you getting caught up in the kook lifestyle. 

They had even been mad, spouting off about how you thought you were too good for the cut now. Too good for them. JJ knew better though, and that's when he started paying closer attention. 

You all but live at the Camerons now, only coming home to retrieve more clothing. Though, there's not much left for you to take at this point. 

JJ saw you for the first time in three months at Midsummers. You briefly locked eyes with him before quickly averting your gaze and slinking into your boyfriend's side. His eyes raked over you, taking in your small appearance. 

He didn't miss the way Rafe was gripping you a little too tight, or the way that you only spoke when spoken to. The expensive fabric of the dress clung to your body and JJ almost thought his mind was playing tricks on him when he noticed a yellow bruise in the last stages of healing on your inner arm. 

He thought it must be the lighting, or that maybe you just bumped into something. The gnawing feeling in his gut screamed otherwise, but he pushed it aside against his better judgment. You would come to him if you needed help. Right?

You avoided him for the entire night and he tried to ignore the sinking feeling as you were pulled inside by Rafe. 

He sees you around town a little more after that, always in passing. If you see him you don't acknowledge it, but that doesn't stop him from staring at you every time. 

He notices that you're dressed differently now, clad in designer clothing that looks stiff and out of place on your frame. Your hair is neatly styled; soft and void of its usual charms and braids, a stark contrast to the usual messy tangles caused by saltwater and surfing.

Your makeup is perfectly applied, and it causes him to frown. In almost two decades of knowing you, he's never once seen you with more than mascara and lipgloss. You look full kook now, and it makes his stomach lurch. 

You're playing a role that Rafe has molded you into, he knows that much. He knows without a shadow of a doubt that this isn't your doing. You've always preferred a bikini top and comfy jean shorts, usually covered up by one of his t-shirts that swallow you whole. 

He tries to tell John B, hoping he can get some intel from Sarah. The younger Cameron has written off her older brother, claiming that he's a psycho. When he pries for more details and discovers that Rafe tried to strangle her, he got into a fight with John B. 

"You're telling me that you're okay with her shacking up with the man that tried to kill his own sister? That doesn't set off any alarm bells?" JJ shouts and John B just sighs. 

"She's her own person, JJ. I can't control her." 

JJ stares at him in disbelief, disgusted that he's so pussy whipped he's disregarding his own sister's safety. 

"What about when he tries the same thing on Y/N? Will you care then? You haven't noticed the way that Rafe has completely erased her identity?" He screams, shoving the Routledge back. 

Kie steps in and pulls him away, her eyes sad as she stares up at the blonde. 

"I know you're worried, JJ. I am too. But we don't have any evidence, maybe it's time to accept she's just changed."

JJ scoffs and backs away, sending his found family daggers before racing off on his dirt bike.

He tried to reach out to you since then, only to find your number had been disconnected. He only tried to approach you once, but the fear in your eyes stopped him cold in his tracks. He knew that look, it had stared back at him in the mirror more times than he could count. 

He also knew that trying anything would only make it worse, so he let you go. 

Fast forward to tonight, it seems the entirety of OBX is at the kegger. Everyone is too wrapped up in their own shit to notice you arrive with Rafe, but JJ spots you immediately.

It's like he has a sixth sense that tingles whenever you're around, alerting his mind to your whereabouts before his eyes even land on you. 

You look miserable, the thick layers of makeup doing nothing to hide your sunken eyes and exhaustion. He fights with himself internally for a few minutes, debating whether he should talk to you or not. 

He doesn't want you to suffer because of him, but it's been so long since he's heard your voice or felt your arms around him, and every cell in his body is aching to be near you. He finally says fuck it, and his feet carry him forward on a mission. 

He stops a few feet in front of you, and your eyes shoot up to look at him in shock. He smiles down at you but falters slightly when you don't seem the least bit happy to see him. 

"Hey, Peach." 

He notices your lips quirk slightly at his nickname for you before they fall back into a flat line. You'd earned the moniker when you were sixteen. JJ got you drunk for the first time on Peach Schnapps and you had made an absolute fool of yourself before throwing up in the bonfire. 

Ever since then, you couldn't escape the embarrassing memory, though it never really bothered you. It was one of the best nights of your life, and your heart squeezes a bit at the thought. 

You give a short nod and he doesn't miss the way your hands wring together obsessively or how your knee is bouncing rapidly. He doesn't get a chance to say anything else before Rafe speaks up. 

"Well, well, well. If it isn't the trash king. Fuck off, Maybank. She doesn't want to talk to you." 

There's a cruel mocking tone to his voice and JJ's hands clench at his side before he smirks and turns to the kook. 

"Funny, I don't remember speaking to you. If she doesn't want to see me, she can tell me herself."

He's casual as he says it, but there's an underlying bite that sends a chill down your spine. Your eyes dart between the two men in front of you, unsure of what to do. 

You can see Rafe start to tense the longer you stay silent, anger coursing through him at your reluctance to tell your best friend to go away. You know it's in your best interest, but you can't bring yourself to say the words. 

You feel bile rise up your throat, and with each passing second you're painfully aware that this is only going to get worse for you. 

Rafe turns to you and you recognize the fire in his eyes as his pupils start to overtake his irises. 

"Tell him, baby." 

You cringe just barely at the pet name, an involuntary reaction you didn't fully realize you had. JJ catches it though and immediately knows it's now or never. 

He can feel the anxiety rolling off of you in waves, and that's enough confirmation for him. 

"Come on, Peach. The rest of the crew have missed you. You can at least come say hi to John B."

Your throat constricts at the mention of your brother, and JJ sees the tears on your lash line. You don't make a move, and Rafe laughs bitterly. 

"See? Go back to your side, pogue."

JJs on his last strand of patience and you can tell. He's always been extremely protective, but he's tried to stay in the shadows and wait for you. 

He knows that you won't leave until you're ready, but he's hell-bent on being there to catch you when the time comes. 

JJ is intimately familiar with being mistreated by someone you love. He knows the shame that comes with admitting it, the desire to protect the person even though they're hurting you. 

He isn't sure if Rafe has put his hands on you, but he's damn certain that he's got his talons in your mind. 

And he's also certain that if Rafe hasn't hit you, he will. It's only a matter of time. 

"I'm getting real sick of hearing your bitch ass voice, Cameron." 

His voice is sickly sweet, and he takes satisfaction in the way Rafe's eye twitches. He knows the man isn't used to being talked back to or having someone stand their ground.

You look on helplessly as Rafe squares his shoulders, clearly not above resorting to violence. JJ laughs darkly, looking forward to beating the absolute dog shit out of the man that's terrorized you for a year. 

"That's not in your best interest, man." 

JJ tries to warn him, but you know Rafe. Now that he's started this, and people are watching, he won't back down. You also know JJ, and he could kick Rafe's ass on a bad day. 

But standing here now, with months worth of rage waiting to be let out, you're convinced he could kill him. 

JJ stands relaxed, not a worry on his face, as Rafe pants heavily and turns red. He's already got him where he wants him. Even if JJ did lose this fight, he's already won. 

He's under the kook's skin, fucking with his head and he knows that Rafe is going to make impulsive swings with no real method. 

He sees it coming from a mile away, picking up on the way Rafe's body shifts back as his arm winds up. He dodges the punch easily before landing a right hook.

Your hands fly up over your mouth as you gasp, and your boyfriend stumbles back. 

His hand comes up to his cheek, wiping at the blood from where JJ's ring broke the skin. The entire crowd moves back as Rafe tackles him and you watch frozen as the two of them land blow after blow. 

You vaguely register hands on you as Kie and Sarah pull you away, sobs wracking your body. The three of you watch from a distance while John B and Pope try to break them apart to no avail. 

When JJ pulls out a gun and points it at Rafe's head, everything goes into slow motion. Your boyfriend takes a step back with his hands up defensively, and JJ has that manic smile he gets when he's about to do something stupid. 

Your voice sounds foreign to you as you scream JJ's name, pure terror coursing through your veins. His eyes meet yours and you shake your head, a silent plea to put the weapon down. 

He searches your face for a few seconds before lowering the gun, his features softening as he sees the state you're in. 

You barely register the sting of the ground scraping your skin as your knees give out and you collapse in heap, gasping for air. 

Sarah does her best to get your head between your knees so you don't faint, and Kie rubs your back soothingly. You look up as two feet come into your field of view, Rafe staring down at you with nothing but hatred. 

"Let's go." 

You start clambering to your feet before Kie pulls you back down and Sarah gets nose-to-nose with her brother. 

"Fucking leave and don't ever look at her again or I swear to God I will go get that gun and pull the trigger myself."

Her voice is quiet but lethal and Rafe scoffs before seeing how serious she is. He spits at the ground in front of you, and you flinch as more wails rip from your chest watching him walk away. 

In the blink of an eye, JJ is dropping to his knees in front of you and wrapping you up in his arms. You collapse into him, your tears soaking his shirt as he rocks you back and forth. 

"Shh, it's okay pretty girl. I'm right here, you're safe."

The girls share a look before walking back over to John B to give you and JJ space. Your brother watches the interaction with his hands in his hair, completely distraught. JJ tried to tell him, and he didn't listen. 

Now look at you, a shell of your former self and completely broken. He should have protected you and he failed you. Murdering Rafe flashes through his mind before he pushes it to the side to focus on you. 

His eyes follow every movement as JJ scoops you up and carries you into the chateau, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt so hard it looks like it might rip. 

Sarah wraps her arms around him as tears start flowing freely, and he leans into her. What has he done?

Inside, JJ sits you on the bathroom sink and puts a cold washcloth under your eyes to help the swelling. You sit like that for a few minutes before hopping down and gently instructing him to sit on the edge of the tub. 

You pull out a first aid kit and start disinfecting his wounds, your hands steady and a little too efficient. He frowns as you go through the motions as if this is second nature, and feels his head spin. You're too practiced at this.

"How do you know how to do all of this?" 

You seem to know just the right amount of pressure to apply to stop the bleeding without hurting him and what creams to use, a skill you didn't have before. 

He knows this because when he wrecked his dirt bike a while back, you tried to clean him up and it almost hurt worse than the accident itself. 

Your hands falter slightly and he stares at the side of your face as you resume your previous movements without answering. He takes a minute to really look at you in the bright lighting and his heart shatters. 

Now that he can really see you, his worst fears are confirmed. Your face is covered in foundation, but it doesn't hide the swelling of your cheek and eye. There are dabs of concealer on your neck, perfectly spaced and the size of fingertips. 

He goes to move your jacket down, wanting a better look at the rest of your body but freezes when you flinch. 

"What has he done to you?" 

It comes out as a broken whisper and you fight the fresh tears threatening to fall.

"I'm fine, JJ."

He shakes his head and you sigh, dropping the hand that's holding an alcohol pad. 

"No, Peach, you're not." 

There's a finality to his tone and you know you can't get around this. He grabs the wet washcloth and rubs at your face and neck, almost throwing up when the dark bruises start to peek out. 

He knew Rafe had a hold on you, but never in a million years did he imagine it was this bad.

You avert your eyes, not wanting to see the look of pity you're sure is blanketing your best friend's face. 

JJ feels sicker with each new mark that's uncovered and gently brushes his fingertips over them. He shakes his head as he finally pulls your jacket down, your arms covered in fresh and old bruises. 

He doesn't even want to imagine what the rest of you looks like. He notices you trembling and gently lifts your face to his with his index finger and pointer thumb. 

There's a multitude of emotions swimming in his eyes, but pity isn't one of them. Your lip quivers as he stares at you with the same love and adoration he always has, despite feeling like you're hideous and worthless. 

As if he can read the thoughts racing through your jumbled mind, he leans forward and presses his forehead to yours gently. 

"Hey, none of this is your fault, okay? You did so good, Peach. You're so strong and I'm so so proud of you. You never need to feel embarrassed or ashamed around me, if anyone gets it it's me."

You give him a weak nod and wrap your arms tightly around his neck, and he kisses the side of your head as you nuzzle into his shoulder. 

"Let's get you to bed, and we can talk tomorrow if you want." 

He takes your hand and leads you out of the bathroom and toward your bedroom slowly, careful not to make any sudden movements or jostle your body around. 

The rest of the group is inside now, quietly discussing the events of the night when you emerge. The conversation comes to a halt as their eyes land on you and John B feels ill when he sees your bruised body. 

He stands slowly and carefully makes his way to you with both hands out as if he's approaching a wounded animal. 

"I'm so sorry, Peach. Please, please know that I never would have let this happen if I had known." He chokes and you swallow thickly. 

"I know, JB. I don't blame you." 

He engulfs you in a gentle hug, his scent overwhelming you as you finally feel safe in your brother's arms again. He stifles his sobs for your sake before pulling away and letting JJ continue guiding you toward the back. 

The second you're out of his sight, he darts out the patio door and empties his stomach on the lawn. He feels Sarah rubbing his back as he continues heaving, before plopping down on the steps. 

"Rafe is going to pay for this."

In your room, JJ helps you change into pajamas and climbs into bed with you. The two of you lay there for a while, just basking in each other's company and listening to each other's breath. After a while, he hears soft snores coming from you and eases out of the bed. 

His face is set in a deep scowl when he returns to the living room and everyone turns to him. He locks eyes with John B, the two of them coming to a silent conclusion as the man gets up off the couch. 

John B turns to Sarah and Kie and nods toward the room you're sleeping in. 

"Keep an eye on her."

Sarah bites her bottom lip, contemplating if she wants the answer to her next question. 

"Where are you going?" 

JJ tosses his friend the keys to the Twinkie and he catches them with ease. 

"To get her shit and teach Rafe that no one fucks with the Pogues. Least of all my sister."

They don't wait for a reply before turning on their heels and making a beeline for the van. They climb in silently and peel out, speeding toward the Camerons. 

"So what's the plan?" JJ asks and John B glances over at him briefly. 

"Since when do we have plans? I'm getting my sister's stuff and you can deal with Rafe until I'm done." 

JJ claps excitedly, already stretching out his hands and preparing to finish what he started. 

The tires screech as John B stops in the driveway, both of them hopping out. They march up to the front door, and swing it open without so much as a knock. 

Rose jumps in her seat, her eyes wide like saucers as she stares at the two men in her foyer. 

"Don't even think about it. Where was she staying?" John B barks and Rose just points up the stairs. 

"Last room on the left." 

He doesn't spare her another look as he bounds up to the second floor on a war path. He starts grabbing everything that he recognizes as yours, as well as a couple Rolexes, and makes his first trip to the Twinkie. 

He figures its reparations and slips the watches into the glove box. 

As he's making his second trip he hears shouting in the backyard. He recognizes Rafe's voice and takes a second to place that the other person yelling is Ward. 

He grabs the last of your things and whatever else piques his interest, taking them outside as well. 

In the back, JJ is smirking as both men try to intimidate him. Ward goes so far as to offer him money, tired of dealing with Rafe's shit and never willing to admit his son's faults. 

JJ laughs at the insulting suggestion and crosses his arms. 

"You think that I'd let him get away with this for some cash? That girl is priceless to me, there's nothing you could possibly offer that would make me walk away from bashing this asshole's face in." 

Ward's face drops as he realizes he can't get out of this and he makes a split-second decision. He may be loyal to his son to a fault, but he's getting too old to be fist-fighting. 

"You're on you're own, Rafe. I told you this would happen." 

With that, he slams the glass door behind him and stops for a moment when he sees John B walking back in the front door before continuing up to his office. 

Rafe looks at JJ through his already busted eye, not willing to show any weakness. Deep down he knows what's about to happen is inevitable, but that doesn't mean he'll give the pogue the satisfaction. 

JJ closes the distance with lightning speed, his fist colliding against Rafe's nose with a sickening crack. Blood starts pouring instantly and the man groans loudly. 

JJ doesn't let him have any time to recover, pouncing on him and landing two more blows to his jaw and ribs. By the time John B joins, Rafe is almost unrecognizable. 

He's curled up on the ground clutching his stomach and John B looks over at his friend whose breathing heavily with blood splattered on his face. 

He decides JJ has done enough damage and opts to bend down to Rafe's level. 

"If you ever so much as look at my sister again, I will kill you without a second thought." He grits out before standing again and nodding for JJ to follow him. 

He pauses for a moment, wanting to add insult to injury. 

"Oh, and thanks for the watches."

They leave without another word and climb back into the Twinkie silently. 

"Shower when we get back, she doesn't need to see you like this." 

JJ nods and rubs his sore knuckles, already seeing the black and blue blossoming across them. They're only gone about an hour and Sarah is tackling John B in a hug before his feet even touch the ground. 

"Oh my god, are you okay?" She frets, hands frantically roaming his body to search for any sign of injury. 

"I'm fine, Sarah. I promise."

Meanwhile, JJ treks inside and heads straight for the bathroom. He stares at himself in the mirror, finally letting everything sink in. He drops his head as his shoulders shake, hot tears falling into the sink below. 

He allows himself a moment before taking off his necklace and rings, stepping into the hot stream of water. He tilts his head back as the blood and grime are washed away, and feels more salty tears slip down his cheeks. 

He knows what it feels like to be beaten until you're numb day after day. He knows how it feels when a fist collides with an old bruise, replacing it with a new one. He wouldn't wish it upon anyone, least of all you. 

All he can think about is your frame cowered in the corner as you try to survive, crying and whimpering. 

He wonders if you ever cried out for him and the thought makes him punch the shower wall. He should have been there, he should have saved you. 

He briefly regrets not pulling the trigger. The only thing stopping him from doing it now is the fact that he'd go to prison, and leave you alone. He never wants to leave your side again. 

He finishes up his shower, scrubbing until the water runs clear, and steps out onto the bath rug. He wraps a towel around his waist and pads down to your room, creeping in as silently as he can. 

His feet shuffle over to your dresser and he pulls out a fresh pair of boxers and sweatpants. You always have clothes for him, sleeping over in your bed isn't a rare occurrence. 

He pulls them on and crawls back into your bed, sighing as his head hits the pillow. You seem to sense his presence and roll over to press your face into his bare chest, your legs tangling with his out of habit. 

He runs his hand through your hair, his arm wrapping around you to pull you tighter against him. His eyes flutter closed as he inhales your sweet scent, coconut shampoo mixed with perfume that smells like burnt sugar. 

It's familiar and comforting, and he tries to calm his heart rate as he grounds himself in your arms. You're here, you're safe, and he's never letting you go again. 

You mumble quietly, your eyes starting to peek open. 

"Shhh, go back to sleep, pretty girl. I'm right here, I'll always be right here. I promise."

He feels your lips press a soft kiss on his shoulder before your breathing evens out again and he stays up just watching you.

He's absolutely petrified that he'll wake up and you'll be gone, back in the arms of Rafe Cameron. So he doesn't sleep. 

It's not until four am when you reach up and gently swipe your hands over his eyes, forcing them shut, that he allows himself to get tired. 

"Go to sleep, JJ. I can hear the wheels turning in your head and it's keeping me up. I'll still be here."

He turns to lay on his back, pulling you with him so your body is practically on top of his. 

The weight of you soothes him, and finally, he starts to doze off. Everything is okay now, you're going to be okay. He'll make sure of it, even if it's the last thing he ever does.

#jj maybank #jj Maybank imagine #jj maybank fic #jj maybank x reader #outerbanks fic #outer banks #obx #outerbanks #jj Maybank angst #rafe cameron #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron x reader

[smoqueen]

My harebrained wife has decided to fill her lungs with acrid smoke, befuddling her and plummeting any thoughts she previously had straight into the gutter.

[semisolidmind]

Okay, okay hear me out.

Let's say our darling Peaches is out on a stroll somewhere and gets kidnapped by some lesser demons (Kidnapped how? Who knows maybe she walked a little too far from the mountain) who wish to present her as a gift to the rulers of the region as idk a peace offering? Maybe for protection? Yet somehow not realizing that she the wife of said rulers?

And Peaches is like both really confused and amused by this. Confused because she's pretty sure most at least know that she's the mate of The Monkey King and his Warrior and amused because these demons really don't know what they're actually doing?

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

Peaches stared at the demon in front of her in confusion, stopping in her struggle with the rope that was tying her hands together while her brows furrowing as she took in their words. "Wait- hold on. You said you were gifting me to the rulers of this Mountain? The same one that you kidnapped me on?" She inquired, trying to understand their logic.

The demons nodded, Moving the cart she was in along the long dirt road. "Yup, To the Great Sage himself and His brother." They replied, not looking at their hostage.

Peaches could only stare in astonishment. She was completely speechless by these demons boldness to kidnap the wife of the people they were gifting her too. A part of her felt amusement at this clearly not at all thought out plan but another part of her feels pity....

She coule only imagine what her husbands would do when they hear of this.....

-----------

Apologizes for any grammar mistakes or if this didn't make any sense at all. I am currently sleep deprived so yeah, sorry for any mistakes.

hooh man. (your ask was well written. sorry it took me so long to get to it)

man, the warlords could have a variety of reactions to this.

easy and most likely answer: the boys are angry. like, unbelievably so. those stupid, ignorant idiot demons are getting dismembered right there in the reception throne room, no time for them to defend themselves. macaque cuts away reader's binds as wukong furiously beats the offending demons bodies into bloody pulp. reader tries not to look or listen as macaque leads her away and gently interrogates her about her capture.

the boys are feeling like playing along that day. they "thank" the stupid demons for bringing them such a lovely "tribute." perhaps they play up "getting a closer look at this human... hmm, brother, doesn't this human seem familiar? y'know, she really does! now where have i seen her before, hmm...oh right! she's our wife." cut to the mook demons stammering out apologies and kowtowing, begging for forgiveness because they had NO idea that this human was the wife of the mountain rulers, honest! the monkey king watches the groveling while macaque frees reader, rubbing her wrists. there's a 50/50 chance the idiot demons survive this time.

reader is feeling merciful, and thus asks her husbands to spare these very dumb demons. clearly they didn't know better, if their harebrained scheme was anything to go by. the warlords, seeing that she's relatively unharmed and clearly not that traumatized by the experience, agree to let them live. but! the idiot demons have to do hard labor as penance. you don't kidnap a queen and get off scot-free, after all.

#bad end wukong #twice as bad au

[curtwilde]

Henry vs Julian

I have been thinking about this a lot. While Henry clearly admires and models his scholar self on Julian, their essential difference is in how they perceive the Ancient Greeks.

Julian's interest in the Ancient Greeks is true interest, he admires their high and exalted values. For him, the Greeks were the highest point of human civilization, and the closer he comes to his own time the more his disdain increases - the Roman Catholic Church he holds in contempt but it's still a 'worthy enemy' not as bad as the Presbyterian Church. It isn't mentioned but he must hold modernism and it's philosophy with disdain - modernist moral vacousness being a direct contradiction of the idealist values loyalty, honor, chastity etc. that were so exalted by the Greeks. Which is why he is always cherry picks, sees only what he wants to see, and invents what he can't - both for himself (his ambiguous involvement with the Isrami government) or for his students (encouraging Richard to lie about his life in California). Since he can't time travel back to Greece himself, he must try to live that life as much as he can and believe himself a character in a Greek play. But it comes, not from a place of wanting to escape his current reality, but true admiration of the ancient Greek way of seeing and doing things.

Henry is a true modernist. The monologue about feeling dead is central to his understanding his character:

Maybe it stems from his near death experience but he sees the world as inherently meaningless, God is dead and heaven and hell have been revealed to be man-made constructs, there is no punishment for evil and since there is no moral line. I think he subconsciously realised all of this before coming to Hampden, but to truly accept it would have been soul-crushing. So he tries to escape it by immersing himself in the Greeks, I imagine the absolutist values, vague representational ideas pertaining to each god might have interested him but really, it could have been anything else, the Medieval Age or the Victorians, anything. He just needed something to be obsessed with, to give meaning to his existence which he subconsciously knew to be meaningless. So is his adoration of Julian, he admired and wanted Julian's ability to almost half-live in another time when, in his view, things mattered more (we have divinity in our midst). It also explains the Bacchanal which is otherwise so out of character for him. The appeal was to escape the soul crushing knowledge of meaninglessness - even if for a while. To worship and call on Dinosiyus with the blind belief of the Ancient Greeks, a kind of belief that simply cannot exist anymore in the postmodern, post-Neitzche world. His harebrained plans also came from the same impulse, including the poison plan, and the one way ticket to Argentina.

I suspect that what subconsciously drove him to murder bunny, aside from the obvious fear of getting caught - is the same thing that drove Mersault to murder the Arab - it's the old existentialist question, if good and bad are relative and there is no punishment for evil, how far can one go? Bunny's murder was Henry's existentialist experiment with himself. And, I think in a way it confirmed for him what he already knew, they escaped unscathed and he didn't feel any of the fear or remorse he expected to feel. While it did give him the momentary sense of power, the feeling that he could now do whatever he wanted if he can be clever enough to not get caught, since he won't be punished for it otherwise. While it gave him enough courage to go get the girl he always wanted - it did confirm for him the inherent meaninglessness of the world. Also, conversely, Camilla could have been another experiment - something must matter, was it love? Camilla was the only girl he knew and he was fond of her - he may not even have thought of her romantically before considering he never cared to act on it in all the time he had known her. But either way, Julian's abandonment broke him.

Coming back to Julian, Julian's abandonment omakes perfect sense to me - he was disgusted by the modernist moral vacousness in his students. He himself was a moral man, but his morals operated on his own standards. He based it on the Greek sense of Honour, not the more modern sense of Justice. His basic instinct was the preservation of his own purity - he couldn't possibly keep on as their teacher. But also, to turn them in would be against his sense of honour - he must have very little respect for the police and law enforcement as institutions being the kind of person he is. Not to mention it would mean his having to be in frequent contact with the police and court. From his point of view atleast, leaving is the only thing he could have done, really.

For Henry however, he sees that his obsession with the Greeks as well as his admiration for Julian as the sham that it really was, is disillusioned with the world, shattered. Except for his fondness for Camilla he didn't really have anyone he loved, he saw his friends as pawns, wasn't close to his family, didn't have any goals in life with everything in his reach with his father's money - the only person he had really loved was Julian, and there he was betrayed. His obsession with the ancient Greeks was also thus tainted with Julian's betrayal - since it wasn't true interest at all, only a disguised attempt at escapism - it wavered and fell apart, and he didn't have a reason to live anymore.

.

Side note : Richard falls between the two. Like Julian, he had a real interest in the ancient Greeks, but he didn't put them on a pedestal like Julian did. He realised that like his own time, and like all other times in history the Greek civilization too had its own good and bad aspects, and he wanted to learn about it for its own sake. But he doesn't make it his life, or use it to escape his own reality - outside of his classes he was very much rooted in his own time.

#the secret history #tsh #donna tartt #henry winter #julian morrow #richard papen #camilla macaulay #charles macaulay #francis abernathy #bunny corcoran #tina rambles #lit

[un-local]

Free my man Larian. His unhinged swagless demeanor has captivated me 🖤

1hr-ish quickie since I haven't drawn in like a month.

#i love his VA. He's going so intense with it you can't even tell he's british [lighthearted] #thats it thats his real appeal to me alkdsfhkadshfakdsjfadsjlfhad #god im going to wake up tomorrow and see so many mistakes...... is that stopping me? never. fuck it we ball #kar'niss #bg3 #hare art #hare posts #karniss #harebrained thought #since its so unrefined

[holy-puckslibrary]

sid to a furry friend's rescue!

florist!reader gets flustered during sid's calendar shoot

parents mentors for the day

chief crosby's got a date... and its not with florist!reader

... was in a bit of a silly goofy mood, forgive me (and be sure to read the endnotes!)

gif from @littlemessyjessi

This is the last thing Sidney Crosby imagined he'd come home to: another man settled in his chair.

His cat is curled in the intruder's lap, and said intruder's hand is curled over your knee. And Sidney's soup—homemade and hand-delivered—split in bowls between you.

"Thought you didn't need a babysitter?"

Sidney watches the gleeful expression wilt on your pretty face—color drained like his bank account succeeding the egregious bid he matched to make bail—with equal measures of self-satisfaction and self-contempt.

"I-I didn't, I just—"

"Settle down, Chief," the ranger laughs. "I knew our little lady here was feeling under the weather, so I thought I'd stop by after my patrol shift and keep her company while you were indisposed."

Sidney glares into the bright cerulean eyes of one Anthony Beauvillier, a park ranger in the Atlantic Coast Uplands region.

If memory serves, he was recently transferred from Waverley to Blue Mountain but resides in Peggy's Cove. This is a 50-minute detour.

In the opposite direction.

The Fire Chief's jaw is painfully tight, his blood scalding. If it were't for his, albeit dwindling, sense of self preservation, Sidney would've marched up those two steps—recently refurbished at his hand, might he add—to forcefully remove the park narc's grubby paw from your body.

Mercifully—for all involved parties, you do so shortly and of your own volition before joining Sid in your driveway.

Guilt smeared over your sickly features, your mouth parts, an explanation hot on your tongue, but all that comes is a grizzly cough that stings Sid's chest just hearing it. Despite his vexation, he's patient with you; he owes it to you both to wait it out. He hopes this is just one big misunderstanding somehow.

But, before you're able, the absolute last person Sidney wants to hear from pipes up.

"Resting, ma biche. You're meant to be resting," Tito attempts to coax you back onto the porch—back to his side—with an outstretched, up-turned hand.

(my doe / my darling — reminder: see end for important notes!)

Not as quick with his French as he'd like to be, he growls at the perceived insult. However, rather than running his fist through the opposition's teeth in your honor, Sidney defiles it.

The park ranger, and everyone else who happens to be out and about tonight, are treated to an unexpected eyeful of their Fire Chief's innermost feelings rushing to the surface. They pour into your mouth with reckless abandon, unconcerned with his public image or the utter lack of privacy; this kiss could be broadcast on the Nightly News for all he cares.

All that matters to Sidney Crosby is making his intentions known, and crystal fucking clear. Staking his claim is just a bonus.

"Well, it looks like my work here is done."

At your dazed expression and Sid's bewilderment, Tito stands from the rocking chair with a genuine smile fixed on his face. As he deposits evergreen Stetson atop his wind-swept hair, he pauses.

"Y'all have a nice night," he winks with a tip of the brim, bidding you farewell before slipping into his government-issued Ram.

As gravel crunches under the vehicle's wheels, gears click into place behind Sidney's burnt umber eyes, now gleaming with clarity.

"Nate and Emmy." — Statement, not a question.

"Please, don't be angry. They just wanted to help because... because I didn't believe that... y'know." You gesture to the sliver of space that still separates you, a bashful little smile pushing up your feverish cheeks.

He couldn't find it in himself to be ticked off about your best friends' not-so-harebrained scheme—which, honestly, deserved more credit than he would ever be willing to give it—if he wanted to. Not while standing so close he can smell the PEI tulips you've been elbow-deep in all month, and definitely not having tasted the whisper of herbal tea lingering on your tongue.

Smirking, he closes the gap with a gentle tug.

"Oh, I know." Voice dropping to a thick hush, his lips hovering a lick above your skin, "D'you believe it now?"

The pinkish skin crinkles around his warm eyes as you pretend to think.

"I could do with a little more... convincing," you ultimately quip. "But, only if you're up for the t—"

The remainder of your cajoling is overtaken by a fit of giggles as he corrals you up and across the porch. The front door slams shut with a satisfying air of finality. Though, not before little Ember slips in with you.

Chief Crosby was thorough by nature, and he'd be damned if he didn't dedicate the evening to dispelling any and all doubts threatening to take root. Feigned, or not.

—

gotcha! teehee 😋 sid really said sick germs?? no match for my LOVE!!! ALSO! tito anon, this ones for you bbyyyyy 💓💓💓💓

***** 'ma biche' was chosen because its typically humorous and rarely intended seriously, + can be considered majorly outdated (even by 60s sitcom standards)—and its not always romantic! ... it also sounds a lot like an english insult, hence sid's reaction lol (at least, according to my french-canadian grandmother who remains very confused by my random call for a french lesson on infrequently used terms of endearment lol) *****

as always, i would really appreciate if you reblogged my work, left a comment or dropped by my inbox w some feedback :) fandom runs on engagement, and so do writers!! thx a mil in advance!

#in conversation: kindled #kindled!sidney #kindled verse #kindled #sidney crosby imagine #sidney crosby fanfiction #sidney crosby fic #sc87 #firefighter!sid x florist!reader #firefighter!sidney crosby #firefighter!sid #florist!reader #sidney crosby au #sidney crosby blurb #nhl fanfiction #hockey fanfiction #hockey x reader #nhl x reader #nhl blurb #hockey blurb #nhl imagines #*ೃ༄ by holy pucks #nhl fic #hockey romance #hockey fic #pittsburgh penguins #anthony beauvillier x reader #anthony beauvillier #tito beauvillier x reader #tito beauvillier

[andypantsx3]

Deceiving the Duke | 3 | Todoroki Shouto

pairing: Todoroki Shouto x Female Reader

length: 3.1k of 30k words | 3rd of 9 chapters

summary: When Camie Utsushimi elopes on the eve of her society debut, scandal threatens to destroy the family’s prospects. It’s up to you, a maid, to impersonate Camie throughout the Season, long enough that her elder sister can make a match. The only trouble? Lord Shouto Todoroki is also intent on making a match—and that match, quite impossibly, appears to involve you.

tags/warnings: romance, regency au, class differences, hidden identity/identity porn, aged up characters, eventual smut

Things were quiet the following week.

You successfully attended two other balls with no mishaps like your first, and an afternoon tea with some lady or another. You were careful to duck out of sight any time you caught a flash of red or white hair, and you stuck close to Caroline except for when she was whisked onto the dancefloor by some interested gentleman.

You seemed to draw little notice, except for a few younger sons of minor families. You eagerly waved your dance card full of made-up names at them when they approached, feigning regret. If any of them noticed you did not stand up with anyone after that, however, they were too polite to say so.

You spent the rest of your time outside of events agonizingly refitting all of Camie’s new dresses, astounded by the sheer number, going to bed every evening with your fingers numb and your eyes burning. Caroline kept up your dance lessons and tried valiantly to appoint you with some conversational tips that would keep you from exposing yourself as the servant you were, which you dutifully memorized.

You also wrote to Camie, addressing the letter to her eventual home at Lord Yoarashi’s estate. His staff would hopefully know where to forward it to. You told her of the harebrained scheme you had gotten yourself into, the horrifying run-in with Lord Shouto Todoroki, and your absolute certainty that this had all been a mistake.

A week and a half into said harebrained scheme, Lady Cathleen Bate hosted a ball at the assembly rooms. You wiggled into a cream-colored gown you’d prioritized fixing because the wispy material was so easy to work with—but you were quite regretting it now. It was awfully sheer, enough that you kept returning to Camie’s looking glass, nervous that your underpinnings might be fully visible through the fabric.

You tried to call as little attention to your bare decolletage as possible with a borrowed set of Caroline’s tiniest paste jewel set, but felt like every judgmental eye in the assembly rooms would flicker your way regardless. You hoped the relatively low profile you’d cultivated thus far would spare you.

When you arrived, you quickly filled your dance card with a suite of made up names once more, snickering to yourself as you penned in former king Yaoyorozu’s name and a slew of stupid things like Lord Scotchwaffles and Mr. Placeholder.

There was a small commotion as you made your way to the Utsushimis’ usual camp out along the fringes of the dance floor, watching across the room as a young lady in an elaborate headdress suddenly swooned onto the gentleman next to her.

You started when you realized the gentleman in question was none other than Lord Shouto Todoroki–and he looked bemused to suddenly have an armful of unresponsive woman. His face went carefully blank and he held her out from him, the way one did a baby that had soiled itself. You had to bite a laugh off into your glove. He really looked like nothing would make him happier than just dropping her.

Two mismatched eyes suddenly darted up, catching yours. Your laughter seized in your throat, turning into sputtering coughs, and you ducked behind Mrs. Utsushimi for cover.

You kept yourself hidden behind her silhouette as best you could for the next few hours, with the occasional break to fetch lemonade. Caroline was on and off the dance floor, and you thought you recognized one of her partners as a gentleman from last time–a Mr. Yosetsu Awase, untitled but kind and reliable, according to town gossip.

Fumbling around behind Mrs. Utsushimi, you accidentally bumped elbows with a pair of gentlewomen halfway through the ball. You murmured an apology, but they waved you off cheerfully, and leaned in to introduce themselves instead.

One of them was short and voluptuously curvy, with fawn brown hair and rosy cheeks–Miss Ochako Uraraka, whose family, like Camie’s, was untitled but landed, occupying the lower rungs of the peerage. The other woman had long green tresses that complimented her spring green gown, and wore them bound up at the back of her head, with big dark eyes fringed with long lashes–the Viscountess Tsuyu Asui.

“You’re Camie Utsushimi,” Miss Uraraka said, her voice high and sweet. “I saw you at the Monomas’, running for some lemonade.”

You choked, and fluttered your fan uselessly for a moment. “I—well, yes. It’s all rather a lot, isn’t it? The season?”

Lady Asui nodded vigorously. “Horrible, really. Like we’re at market.”

You laughed. You had to agree. Even knowing you’d be able to retire this scheme at the end of the season, this brief period had felt much like you were a fruit put out on a seller’s stand, to be inspected and purchased at a shopper’s whim. In this thing, the nobility were so much less fortunate than you were.

“Are there really no gentlemen you fancy?” you asked curiously, and Miss Uraraka blushed a furious shade of pink.

“No,” she squeaked out, a transparent yes even to someone who’d only just met her.

“She does but she’ll never admit it,” Lady Asui told you, smiling. “He’s not in attendance this season, at any rate, but she still comes hoping to hear news of him from his friends.”

“Who?” you asked.

Lady Asui cast a fond look at Miss Uraraka. “I’ll not say, but if you want to figure it out yourself, a chat with Lord Tenya or Lord Shouto would be most enlightening.”

You froze up at the mention of Lord Shouto again, eyes quickly darting about to make sure he hadn’t spotted you again. The last thing you needed was for him to accidentally spill the details of your conversation—and how improperly you’d spoken to a man who was possibly the future prince-consort of the empire, if rumors about his interest in Princess Yaoyorozu were to be believed.

Lord Tenya Iida, you remembered from the strategic dissections Mrs. Utsushimi and Caroline had done last season, was a baron, extensively landed, and a very respectable match for any young lady of good breeding. Like Lord Shouto, he was someone you would not want to be seen with, if you cared to minimize the fallout once your scheme had been exposed.

“It shall remain a mystery,” you said decisively.

Miss Uraraka looked surprised. “You don’t intend to meet either?”

You shook your head. “I’d prefer to wait, um, several more seasons before setting sights on a gentleman.”

Lady Asui tapped her chin with her fan. “Lord Shouto is sure to make a match this season or next—he’s got his pick, if he wants it. I take it you’ve heard about his courting Princess Yaoyorozu?”

Your skin prickled with the mention of him again, the memory of his eyes picking over you in the dark replaying itself in the back of your mind. “I have, yes. Perhaps that’s the wisdom in my choice–I’d hate to covet something of the princess’s.”

Miss Uraraka laughed, high and pretty. “This whole empire is hers–I wish you luck.”

You smiled. “I’ll set my sights on something smaller she’ll miss less, then.” Like a pile of money and a comfortable position at Camie’s new estate.

Lady Asui made a small noise in her throat, and you turned to look at her curiously. “That rather large something is headed this way,” she said, looking interested.

Your heartbeat spiked. Surely Lord Shouto wasn’t coming over to talk to you–to reprimand you for pelting him with apricot cakes, was he? He’d so far kept his distance, and you’d thought he meant to forget the whole thing. Regardless, you searched out a gap in the throng of people lining the dance floor, identifying your quickest escape route.

“I find I am suddenly parched,” you announced, snapping your fan shut. “A delight to make your acquaintances.” You made to dart for safety, but a deep voice stopped you.

“You must allow me,” someone intoned from behind you, and all your blood stopped in your veins. Slowly, you turned, finding Lord Shouto himself standing in front of you, immaculately outfitted in a dark coat and waistcoat, a silk neckcloth tied at his throat. He was even more handsome in direct candlelight, his features so careful and symmetrical, those mismatched eyes pinned directly to yours.

“I—you—um, Your Grace,” you said, frantically digging up the modes of address Caroline had gone over with you. You dropped a curtsey, heart pounding. “You’ll have to excuse me—I, the lemonade—”

A tiny smile prodded at the corner of his mouth, and you followed his gaze as it dropped to a glass of lemonade clutched in his fingers, which he pressed towards you.

“I recall you are fond of it,” he said, and your panic fully seized you. Miss Uraraka and Lady Asui’s attentions fixed on you with sharpened interest.

“I–-thank you,” you said miserably, accepting the proffered drink. You pressed it to your mouth to save you from having to supply any other conversation. You thought his eyes followed it to your mouth, and you wondered if there was some aspect of social etiquette you’d just violated for him to watch you so.

“I had hoped you might accompany me for a dance,” Lord Shouto said in that mind-numbingly low tone.

The lemonade hit the back of your throat wrong. You hurriedly flapped your dance card at him, feigning apology. “I’m afraid I’m terribly overcommitted,” you choked out quickly.

Those eyes darted up to yours curiously again, and he rather unexpectedly reached forward to grasp your dance card, reading it over with some interest.

“‘Lord Scotchwaffles’, ‘Mr. Placeholder’,” he echoed, the hint of a smirk pulling at his full mouth. “I cannot say I am acquainted with either.” He paused. “It looks like your next dance is reserved for King Yaoyorozu himself.”

Your insides shriveled up. “I—”

“Unfortunate that he will be unable to make it, bedridden as he’s been for the past decade,” Lord Shouto said. “I will be happy to stand up with you instead.”

Ice crept up your veins, stiffening your limbs. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck!

What was he plotting? Why go to the trouble of asking you for a dance if he was put out with the way you’d acted at the Monomas’? Was this some ploy designed to embarrass Camie and her family?

“I’ll hold your lemonade for you,” Miss Uraraka said, incredibly unhelpfully. Dainty fingers pulled the glass out of your hand, and Lord Shouto seized the moment, taking your hand and tugging you out onto the dancefloor just as the players readied themselves for a new song.

Your heart hammered in your mouth as you arranged yourself against him. His shoulder was horribly strong under your hand, his grip on you gentle but firm. You looked up into his face to find him watching you impassively.

You dimly recognized the music as it began, frantically dredging your brain for the steps Caroline had drilled into you. Thankfully you were able to slip into step along Lord Shouto, following his lead effectively, if not smoothly.

“You’ll have to forgive me,” you told him, for something to say. “This is my first dance–I’m relatively unpracticed.”

His fingers flexed where they held you, and he looked rather—smug?–-to note it.

“So long as it is better than your Ancient Greek,” he said, “I believe you will do well.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, your ears heating. “Well if that’s the case, I’m a comparative expert.”

A hint of a smile touched his mouth, and he spun you, catching your waist back in his hand in a way that sent a shiver skittering up your spine. “You are well-outfitted for prospect stealing, then.”

You scowled up at him, catching a little indent at the corner of his mouth, like he was teasing you.

“My objective is not thievery,” you sniffed. “For the purposes of this season I am simply observing, like a naturalist.”

“And what have you observed?” he asked as he spun you into him again. He was so close you could feel rather than hear the end of his question.

“That there is nothing natural about it,” you said, catching a glimpse of a couple frowning mother-daughter pairs at the end of the dance floor. It made you want to curl into Lord Shouto–to hide from their calculating gaze–but of course he was the whole reason they were glaring.

You decided to take the opportunity to remind him there were better dance partners available, whatever his purpose for calling you out here. “And that I’m rather underqualified. Did you know my Latin is just as bad as my Greek?”

“Your interests must lie elsewhere, then,” Lord Shouto said, gazing down at you curiously. “What are your hobbies?”

How to tell a nobleman that you had almost none? Servitude did not leave much time for hobbies, except for when Camie had insisted to her mother she had absolutely ruined a gown and would need to borrow you for hours–only to surprise you with a tray full of snacks, a few lurid novels, and hours of gossip. You could also play a mean game of cards, but of course it would be improper to tell a gentleman that.

“They’re secret,” you told him.

A white eyebrow went up. “Hurling apricot cakes at unsuspecting gentlemen, perhaps?” he asked.

You sniffed and purposefully trod on his foot. “Only when they surprise me in dark rooms.”

“I believe you surprised me,” Lord Shouto said. “I’d thought you meant to spring a trap closed on me.”

You look up at him, perplexed—then flushed furiously when it dawned on you. No wonder he’d asked whether he was free to go! “You thought I’d meant to trap you in an indecency scandal when I’d never even met you?”

Lord Shouto blinked slowly. “It would have been a bold debut.”

You shook your head furiously. “Rest assured, I have no designs on marriage at this time. Even if I wanted–” You cut yourself off, horrified that you’d almost just let slip your predicament, to the most powerful of persons you meant to fool.

Lord Shouto looked curious and bent his head towards you. “Even if you wanted—?”

You shook your head, and a small frown marred the beauty of his perfect mouth. “I’m talking nonsense.”

“I like nonsense,” he said earnestly—his tone surprising you.

You were thankfully saved from having to respond by the song ending, forcing the two of you into genuflections across from one another. You quickly backed up, as if to leave the dancefloor, but Lord Shouto’s hand snapped out, catching your wrist.

“Perhaps you might tell me about it over another dance?” He asked, his tone low, almost intimate.

Your stomach churned. A horrible little part of you wanted to–had liked how strong he felt under your hands, how sure his hands were around your waist, how upsettingly beautiful his face was up close. But you would not say more. And Caroline had informed you just this afternoon that an invitation to share more than one dance indicated some interest.

You doubted Lord Shouto had any real interest in you–but you could ill afford to draw more attention to the Utsushimi family than you already had.

“I am afraid I am spoken for—” you started, and Lord Shouto’s mouth hitched at the corner.

“I don’t see Lord Scotchwaffles at present,” he said, stepping closer to you.

It brought his horribly beautiful face that much close to yours, and you panicked, searching for a solution.

A memory of Lord Shouto earlier this evening flashed past your eyes–the swooning maiden, whom he’d looked like he wanted to drop. You could see his blank, uncomfortable expression, the way he’d held her away from him in fairly overt distaste. It was clear he did not much appreciate the dramatic machinations of eager young ladies.

Well, you could afford a bruised tailbone in pursuit of your escape. Here went nothing.

You quickly fluttered your hand in front of you, clutching your side like you were winded. You let out a noise like a wounded animal gasping for breath. You caught Lord Shouto’s eyes widening before you pitched sideways, closing your eyes and bracing for impact.

But the impact never came–-instead you collided with something firm, but much softer than the hardwood. Your stomach jolted as you were suddenly shifted and two strong arms went under you, pulling you close to a warm, hard chest.

“Miss Utsushimi,” Lord Shouto’s deep voice resounded in your ear, sounding concerned. Your heart rate doubled, realizing he’d picked you up, and the swaying motion meant he was carrying you somewhere.

Seven hells, you’d not meant for him to catch you!

“Miss Utsushimi, are you well?” Lord Shouto’s voice came again, and you were gently deposited upright, onto something cushiony–a chair. Two warm hands roamed over you, and you peeked an eye open to catch sight of Lord Shouto’s attentive gaze on you. His hand came up to take your chin, tilting your face to his.

An entire conservatory of butterflies erupted in your stomach at the gentle touch. Those mismatched eyes roved over you with worry–and something shrewder, almost like intrigue.

“Are you well?” he asked again, as over his shoulder you could see a crowd beginning to form–Lady Asui and Miss Uraraka, Caroline and Mrs. Utsushimi.

“I–yes–the dance must have winded me,” you said, quickly supplying an excuse. “I’m alright. But I’m afraid I should not dance any more.”

Lord Shouto watched you for a moment longer, before something that was most definitely a knowing little smile touched the corner of his mouth. “Of course,” he said, a strange hitch like amusement in his voice.

You startled, disliking his unexpectedly warm reaction. The point had been to scare him off, not entertain him!

But then Mrs. Utsushimi was carving a path through the crowd with Caroline at her side. Caroline looked worried, but Mrs. Utsushimi could not have looked more put out with you had she tried, though she rallied a valiant cry of, “Camie! Are you alright? We’ll take you home at once.”

“Yes, yes, I’m quite alright,” you said again, quickly sitting up, which brought you in even closer proximity to Lord Shouto, who hadn’t moved.

And it was then, in that moment, with Lord Shouto leaning over you with his eyes glittering, that you thought you were perhaps not alright. With butterflies tickling your stomach, and all your nerves alight under his touch—you realized you were, in fact, the opposite of alright.

You were in trouble.

Horrible, terrible trouble—in the shape of one handsome duke, who was perhaps shaping up to be much more shrewd than you had expected.

#todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki x you #shouto todoroki x reader #shoto x you

[projectbluearcadia]

"Oops."

This is just the kind of scenario that pops up in my head a lot. The walls in the House of Lamentation have ears. (Suggestive)

---

“MC, my room. Now,” Lucifer snapped when he saw the mess you and Mammon had made. As usual, Mammon was getting himself in trouble with a so-called good idea and you were roped into it. This time, it had been adopting a feral demon.

Mammon, of course, had wanted to become a selective breeder after he heard about what purebred dogs are worth. Though now he gave up on that because he was a little too attached to the pair of Harumons he’d just adopted. 

In any case, the living room was an absolute disaster area, and Lucifer was very clearly pissed. 

“I-It was me! Why're you taking MC??” Mammon cried after Lucifer, and he turned a glare back at his little brother. 

“I’ll deal with you later.” 

And he left Mammon in silence, dragging MC by the collar. 

Guilty and feeling scared for the resident human, he followed and debated outside Lucifer’s door whether or not he should knock it down and rescue her. 

“L-Listen, Lucifer we can talk about th—Ah!” Mammon flinched at the high-pitched cry against the door accompanying a loud thud. 

“MC…” Lucifer’s lowered voice rasped. “I think I already warned you there would be consequences for doing something stupid like this.” 

“You’re not my dad!”

“No,” Lucifer replied, and a whimper resounded through the wood, making Mammon shiver. Should he risk it and jump in? Should he? “But you serve me, now don’t you MC?” 

“Well…y-yes…” 

“And since you so willingly went along with whatever that idiot’s harebrained scheme was this time, you’re going to make me feel better.” 

“M-My knees are still sore… sir.” Mammon was half tempted to break in there, a little enraged at the thought of whatever physical punishment he’d given to her. Didn't he know that human was fragile!? And how could he do that when she was so cute anyway!?

“Then rest assured that I’ll make something else sore today.”

“W-Wait, Lu-Lucifer,” she gasped before she let out a surprised cry, and Mammon felt his ears turn hot as the sound of a kiss and something else reached his ears. 

“No waiting,” Lucifer growled, breathless as she panted. “I’ve been waiting.” 

“Ah! N-Not there!” she cried out, still heaving for breath, and Mammon flinched as he heard a thump against the door. 

“Why not? You’re shaking your hips like you’re enjoying it. Dirty girl.” 

Fuckin’ hell, Mammon thought. He’s doin' it that way…. Come to think of it, I think Levi was complaining about that earlier... I really should lea--

“Ahn?! Lucifer, why did you lick me!?” 

Mammon's ears turned pink at the sound that came out of her mouth, and he found himself desperately wishing that he was in Lucifer's place.

“Would you have preferred I childishly bit you like I wanted to?" Lucifer chuckled to himself. "But you want me to lick somewhere else, don’t you? If you want that, then you’re going to beg for it… and I’ll make you scream so loud that the entire house will know.”

“A-Aren’t you afraid they’ll get scared…?” 

“They know I’m here, and they know damn well I’d never let anything happen to you. They’ll know exactly why you’re screaming. I promise.” 

Mammon covered his reddened face with a groan. That asshole knew I was gonna follow to make sure she was okay, didn' he? Fuck. I'm not sleepin' tonight...

As a bonus, when the other brothers found out that Mammon was the reason that Lucifer was making MC scream louder than usual, they casually bullied him the next day. Lucifer was satisfied.

MC later made them make up and screwed them both ruthlessly.

#luci is super possessive as usual #and mams gets the short end of the stick #obey me lucifer #obey me shall we date #fanfiction #obey me! #shameless self indulgence #obey me lucifer smut #lucifer brainrot #obey me mammon #dirty mind #lucifer x mc #lucifer x reader #om mammon

[ecliptiz]

EUPHORIC FEELING 1 ╰► MARAUDERS ERA

SUMMARY — The Marauders are… utterly fascinated with the Slytherin Girl

WARNING — Cursing, Fem!Slytherin!Reader, Stupid Teenage Boys

IT WAS UTTERLY RIDICULOUS, the whole situation. The green versus the red, like a cosmic joke played out on the grounds of Hogwarts. A ridiculous rivalry meant to separate them, keep them apart like the forbidden fruit that no one dared to touch – or even cast a glance towards.

Yet there they were, the Gryffindors, acting like a bunch of bumbling idiots. Instead of discussing the next Quidditch game strategy, practicing spells, or planning yet another harebrained prank, their thoughts were inexplicably fixated on one particular girl – a girl draped in the very color they were sworn to loathe.

It was almost comical how they tried to mask their fascination with her, like lovesick fools attempting to maintain a façade. They'd shoot furtive glances her way, only to quickly divert their eyes or feign disinterest with well-timed pranks and scoffs.

Remus, concealed his infatuation behind the cover of his books. To anyone passing by, it seemed as if his gaze was glued to the pages. Yet, upon closer inspection, his eyes subtly traced the path of the girl in green as she wandered close to the Black Lake.

Peter, hid his feelings behind his incessant eating. He constantly had something to munch on, whether for himself or to offer to others. As the girl approached, he'd stuff his mouth with food, determinedly chewing to keep his nerves at bay.

His cheeks puffed up, flushed with the hidden fact it was from the sight of the girl and not the amount of food that pushed the inside of his cheeks to the limit.

James was an embodiment of chaos when it came to concealing his feelings. Subtlety was an alien concept to him. Whenever he found himself in her presence, he was like a bull charging through a china shop, ready to declare his affection to the world. His friends often had to physically restrain him from belting out his emotions in a grand display.

On the other hand, Sirius was a master of disguise. He carefully kept his gaze from constantly following her every move, a feat that required considerable effort. Instead, he channeled his energy into extravagant sighs and dramatic gestures in front of his friends, particularly when she was around.

Even when she wasn't, he maintained his over-the-top persona, hoping to capture her attention, if only for a fleeting moment.

But one day, all their efforts at subtlety seemed to shatter with just one word.

Remus Lupin charged into their shared dorm room, his hair wild and his eyes wide, flushed cheeks adding to his disheveled appearance. Instantly, his friends abandoned their respective activities.

James and Sirius halted their game of exploding snap, and Peter shifted back to his human form from his rat Animagus form, his small figure now standing upright.

"Merlin, mate, what happened to you?" Sirius teased with a chuckle, amusement lacing his voice. Remus did indeed look like he had been through a storm. His sweater was askew, trousers wrinkled, and his hair seemed to have battled a gusty wind.

"She's coming to our dorm," Remus announced, his breath coming out in uneven bursts, his chest rising and falling as if he had just completed a sprint.

"Who?" James inquired, his brow furrowed, his round glasses perched crookedly on his nose, and his attire limited to a pair of trousers.

Sirius shifted his attention from James to Remus, his curiosity piqued but still mixed with confusion.

Remus took a deep breath before practically exclaiming, "Y/N!" His voice cracked with the intensity of his announcement.

At Remus's revelation, the other boys sprang to their feet, and Peter emitted a small squeak of surprise. "Merlin, mate, you can't just drop something like that!" Sirius interjected, his words rapid.

James surveyed the dorm room, recognizing the chaos: clothes strewn haphazardly, wrappers and papers scattered across surfaces, and an unmistakable scent of body odor permeating the air.

"Why?" Peter chimed in, his voice tinged with confusion as he unconsciously began tidying his own area, his blue eyes reflecting his bewilderment.

Remus let out a rushed explanation, his words tumbling over one another, "Well, we've got this project for our NEWTs class, and she asked if we could collaborate in our dorm, and I kind of panicked and blurted out 'yes'!"

"And why in the name of Merlin's saggy left—," James began, but his language abruptly shifted as he looked around the cluttered room, "—sock would you do that?"

Sirius raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his expression, "Mate, I thought your legendary Marauder pranks and smooth demeanor would have extended to handling a simple invitation."

Peter chimed in with a shrug, his rat-like tendencies showing, "Yeah, you usually handle stress by wolfing down chocolate frogs and giving our transfiguration notes a menacing glare."

Remus sighed, running a hand through his already disheveled hair, "Well, this time I couldn't exactly employ those tactics. Besides, we're supposed to be responsible adults, remember?"

James let out a half-hearted laugh, "Oh right, responsible adults who are about to introduce our dorm's chaos to an unsuspecting soul."

Sirius grinned, "Well, at least it'll be an adventure. Who knows, Y/N might end up joining our ranks and become a honorary Marauder."

Peter chimed in with a snicker, "Or she might run out screaming and never speak to us again."

"Well," James trailed off, taking in a deep breath and puffing out his chest. "We cannot, under any circumstances, allow her to witness the chaotic state of this place. So..." He spoke with an air of authority, his eyes dramatically narrowing as he shot the other boys a sly grin.

And just like that, James Potter transformed into a mother on a mission during a spring cleaning spree.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Y/N WASN’T entirely sure what to anticipate upon entering the marauders' dorm room, but the fragrance of lemons mingling with the soft glow of candles placed on every available surface certainly caught her off guard.

The beds were immaculate, and there wasn't a towering heap of rubbish that might have hidden a lurking trash monster, as she had half-expected.

It was a vision of order, a far cry from what she had imagined. Yet, she ventured into the room with cautious steps, her green robes contrasting with the predominant red hues of the decor. She clutched her book and satchel tightly, containing notes, ink, and quills. Each step was cautious, as if the wrong move would trigger a cascade of pranks.

Additionally, Y/N wasn't prepared to find Sirius Black and James Potter... reading. The sight almost caused her heart to skip a beat out of sheer astonishment.

And they appeared well-groomed. It was a departure from the usual view of James with his unruly brown curls and Sirius with his perpetually tousled black hair.

Their outfits seemed carefully chosen too. Instead of their customary half-done ties and rumpled robes, they were wearing oddly formal clothing for being in their dorm room.

Suppressing a chuckle, she ignored the apparent disappointment on Remus's face when his gaze fell upon his two best mates. Meanwhile, Peter was sprawled out in his bed, his head buried in the covers, presumably fast asleep.

"Uh... so, where should we start?" She directed the question to Remus, feeling a bit awkward. Remus seemed momentarily lost, his attention momentarily consumed by her features, his own body heating up.

"Right," Remus eventually replied, tugging at the hem of his sweater as he moved towards the desk. He indicated for her to take a seat while he perched on the corner of the desk.

"We're supposed to write a seven-inch essay on Amortentia – its effects, how it's made, the whole lot," Remus explained, his eyes fixed on her with a keen intensity. He attempted to shake himself out of the daze that seemed to settle over him every time he looked at her.

In the background, he heard suppressed laughter, recognizing that Sirius was imitating him while Y/N's attention was on him, and James was doing something similar with giggles.

"Right..." she trailed off, her eyebrows arching slightly as she shot a playful yet quizzical look towards the source of the giggles – the other two boys in the room.

Remus cleared his throat, his cheeks tinged with a light pink as he shifted his attention back to the task at hand. "So, um, the essay. We could start with the history of Amortentia and its usage over the centuries."

Y/N nodded, relieved that the focus had returned to the assignment. "Sounds good. And then we can move on to its effects on individuals and relationships."

Y/N's focus remained steadfast on the task at hand, despite the playful antics of James and Sirius. Remus, on the other hand, seemed to be getting slightly exasperated as he attempted to concentrate.

"Guys, seriously," Remus huffed, trying to hide his amusement. "We're trying to work here."

James let out an exaggerated sigh, his eyes widening innocently. "Oh, I'm sorry, Moony. Did we interrupt your riveting discussion about the history of love potions?"

Sirius chimed in, grinning mischievously. "Yeah, because we all know how exciting that is."

James grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he sauntered over to Peter's bed. "Is Wormtail seriously sleeping?" he exclaimed in an exaggerated tone, leaning over to inspect the lump that was Peter.

Sirius couldn't resist the opportunity to play along. With a dramatic sigh, he raised his hand as if to answer a question. "No, no, I'm Sirius," he chimed in, a sly grin curving his lips. He burst into laughter when James retaliated by flicking a pillow at him.

Y/N's concentration was momentarily broken as Sirius dramatically threw himself onto Peter's bed, causing a yelp and a sudden movement from Peter.

She glanced over, her eyes widening at the unexpected commotion. Remus shot Sirius an exasperated look, shaking his head in disbelief at the antics.

Peter, now wide awake, blinked rapidly, trying to process the sudden chaos that had unfolded around him.

He glanced around the room, his eyes landing on Sirius with a mix of confusion and annoyance. "Merlin's beard, Sirius, what's gotten into you?" he grumbled, his voice still groggy from sleep.

James, unable to resist the opportunity to join in, grabbed another pillow and playfully whacked Sirius on the back. "You're worse than a blast-ended skrewt," he teased, a mischievous grin on his face.

Y/N let out an amused chuckle, shaking her head as she returned her focus to the book. The boys' attempts to capture her attention might have been over the top, but it certainly wasn’t unwanted.

As the hours passed, Y/N remained engrossed in her reading and note-taking, occasionally exchanging ideas and thoughts with Remus.

The two of them worked together in a surprisingly synchronized manner, their focus strong in the way they discussed the various aspects of Amortentia's effects.

Meanwhile, James and Sirius continued their playful attempts to catch Y/N's attention, their antics ranging from exaggerated yawns to whispered commentary on the material being covered.

Remus seemed to be handling their disruptions with a mix of patience and exasperation, occasionally shooting them disapproving looks that were met with innocent smiles or exaggerated expressions of innocence.

Peter's silent observation remained a constant throughout the day. He found himself captivated by Y/N's presence and the easy way she interacted with his friends.

Her passion for learning and her ability to remain composed in the midst of the boys' shenanigans intrigued him. While the others vied for her attention, he preferred to stay on the sidelines, content to watch her from a distance.

Despite the interruptions, the collaborative effort produced tangible results.

The essay slowly took shape, combining Remus's meticulous writing with Y/N's well-organized thoughts. By the time the sun began to set and the golden light filtered through the curtains, they had made significant progress.

As they wrapped up their study session, Y/N stretched her arms above her head, feeling a sense of accomplishment. Remus let out a content sigh, rubbing his tired eyes as he glanced at the nearly completed essay. James and Sirius finally relented in their attempts to distract Y/N.

As Y/N packed up her belongings, her conversation with Remus took on a more serious tone. They discussed the final touches for the essay and set a plan to complete it by the following Tuesday.

Remus handed her the items she needed and watched her straighten her robes, giving her a warm smile as she waved goodbye to the others in the room before leaving.

However, as soon as the door closed, the room erupted in laughter. Sirius couldn't hold back his amusement, his eyes sparkling mischievously as he mimicked Remus's voice, repeating his words, "'So next Tuesday'."

James, always ready to join in the fun, pushed up his glasses with a grin. "Come on, Moony, we thought you were better than that."

Remus's cheeks were still tinged with pink as he shot them a glare. "As if any of you would do any better. The first time she tries to talk to you face to face, you'll all be blubbering fools."

James opened his mouth to retort, but Peter chimed in with a dreamy look on his face. "Honestly, I can't believe she was here in our room." He flopped back onto his bed, his voice almost swooning as he buried his face into the pillow.

Sirius raised an eyebrow playfully, nudging Remus with his elbow. "Did you see the way she looked at you, Moony? It's a miracle you managed to speak at all."

James leaned against the wall, his grin turning into a mischievous smirk. "Yeah, next time, maybe just stick to writing love notes. Might be safer."

Remus sighed, rolling his eyes at his friends' teasing. "You're all insufferable."

Peter lifted his head slightly from the pillow, a cheeky grin on his face. "But you love us."

Remus couldn't help but crack a smile at that. "Unfortunately, I do."

Sirius grinned, leaning against a desk as he looked toward the ceiling. "I can't deny it, mate. We might as well be first years all over again, fawning over a pretty girl."

Remus let out an exasperated sigh, running a hand through his hair. "It's not like that," he muttered, though the pink tinge to his cheeks said otherwise.

James chuckled, crossing his arms. "Yeah, yeah, Remus is just tutoring her in more ways than one."

Remus shot James a narrowed look, his amusement evident. "Oh, come on, James. Don't pretend you wouldn't be blubbering to us about her if you were in my shoes. You'd be going on about how her eyes sparkle or how she looks when she smiles." He teased, earning a laugh from the others.

Sirius, always one for pushing the boundaries, chimed in with a devilish grin. "Oh, if I had a project with her, it wouldn't be potions we'd be brewing, if you catch my drift." He lowered his voice suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows as he spoke.

Peter, caught in between the banter, rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his blonde hair. Remus simply stared at Sirius, shaking his head in mock disbelief. James, on the other hand, nodded with a cheeky grin. "He's got a point there."

Laughter echoed through the room as the teens teased each-other, there minds lingering on the girl in Green.

#keeperofthestars #harry potter #james potter imagine #sirius black imagine #harry potter imagine #james potter x y/n #sirius black #fred weasly x reader #peter pettigrew #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin x you #remus lupin #remus lupin x y/n #siriusblack imagine #siriusblack #sirius black x female reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x reader #james potter #jamespotter #james potter x you #peter pettigrew x reader #peterpettigrew imagine

[terresdebrume]

"I want to try something," David says one Friday evening, after they've gone to bed.

Joe sighs, rolling his eyes in as long suffering a way as he can manage and plopping the latest adventure of Dick Tracy on his bedside table.

"I told you before, I'm not going fucking diving, if you wanna—"

"Not that," David cuts off impatiently no doubt remembering the way Joe called the entire practice a nutjob's hobby.

"Well I ain't going horse riding either," Joe says, irked by the interruption.

"What? Oh, you—just because I said I don't mind horses one time—"

"Please, like I didn't see you make puppy eyes at that pony."

They'd found it right there, on their street, munching on the flowers on Mr. Berkowitz' windowsill and causing quite the fucking ruckus. Half the neighborhood was gawking, wondering how the fuck it had come there and how to make it leave, when it had somehow come out that David's sister had used.to.ride horses and he'd accompany her sometimes. Promoted to the rank of local expert, David was then tasked with catching the pony—took about five seconds and a bit of quiet muttering—and hold it until the proper authorities could be summoned.

It was painfully easy to see David had grown fond of the beast in record time (faster than he'd grown fond of Joe back at the beginning, at any rate) and that he was sad to see it go. Also, if Joe had had any doubt on the subject, the mulish expression that appears on David's face would have tipped him off. Nothing makes him stubborn like Joe being right about a thing he doesn't want to admit to.

But hey, they must have both matured a bit since the war: Joe doesn't keep pushing (yet) and David ignores the jab in favor of pouting:

"I meant in the bedroom."

"Jesus Christ," Joe says, because that's who he usually blames when David gets some kind of harebrained idea in his head.

David rolls his eyes at that, and Joe would scold him except, well. David may have a penchant for making sex more complicated than it really needs to be—Joe had never thought fucking could require accessories before he started having his way with David on the regular—but there was one particular episode involving a blindfold and Joe's mouth on David's ass that would be hard.to describe as anything short of a resounding success. Joe likes simple dick-in-hole stuff if left in charge, but sometimes hearing David out pays off.

"Fine," Joe says eventually, "let's hear it. With any luck it'll get it out of your system."

"If you're going to make fun of me then—"

"Jesus, sweetheart, don't be such a wilted flower and spit it out."

"I want to play a game," David sighs after a moment, audibly frustrated. "A game of trust."

Joe stiffens immediately, and not in the fun way. What the fuck is a game.of trust anyway? Is this a fucking test? Is there a correct answer he's supposed to give if he wants to keep this thing he and David have been working on for over five years stable? Is that what it is about? Because if so—

"I mean," David continues, clearly having sensed Joe's sudden step back, "I want—I want to have the initiative, this week."

The whole week? Granted, Joe's off work, but still. And besides:

"The fuck you mean, you want the initiative?"

"I mean," David says, clearly clinging to that overly factual composure he uses as a defense sometimes, "I want to be the one to start things, between us. And I want to be sure you won't."

"Webster," Joe warns, if you think I'm gonna let you—Fuck, I don't even know, you asking if you can tie me to the bed or what?"

"No," David says immediately.

He doesn't sound like he's lying, but he's also turning deeply pink in a way that makes Joe wonder if he should consider using the bedsheets in unprecedented ways. It's an idle thought, but it makes him feel immediately and needlessly embarrassed, so he groans:

"Then fucking what?"

"I just—I don't want to tie you up!" David repeats. "Just. If I start something, you could just. Keep your hands to yourself."

"And what, just lie there and think of England?" Joe provoques, and David finally leans away from him under the light sheet they use in summer.

"No! Jesus, Joe you make it sound so—I just want to be allowed to tease you a bit alright?"

Joe scowls at him.

"So like. Tying me up with a promise instead of strings."

David let's out an exasperated sigh but nods anyway. Joe should probably say no. It's stupid and unnecessary, and it's not like David minds when Joe's the one in charge, quite the contrary. In fact, Joe's starting to think if anyone's ever going to get tied to their bed it's likely to be David. But then there's. Mmh.

See, the thing about the blindfold was: Joe may have complained about how ridiculous it was right down to the last minute, but the way David reacted to it was—well. Resounding success. But even before that, there'd been something intriguing. A current of curiosity Joe would rather chew his own tongue than admit to, but which had run shivers down his spine anyway.

Right now, there's a tingle behind Joe's ribs, and so he only Rob's David for a few minutes more before he pretends to feel very magnanimous and ask:

"So that's it? No other rules, just... No touching you?"

David hums and tilts his head, and Joe's suspicions are confirmed: this is a game of control. And David played Joe like a fucking fiddle by calling it a game of trust. Fucking hell. Well, two can play that game, and it may not be this week but someone's definitely gonna get fucked until they beg for mercy in the future.

"Yeah," David says. "And, you know."

Yeah. There was an incident early on when Joe hadn't quite realized David had been serious when he'd laughingly told him to stop touching him after he came. David isn't shy, and a solid push of his thigh against Joe's head was enough to get him to actually stop, but it seriously soured both their moods for a couple days. Since then, they've learned to be a little more careful when they play those games where one of them might say stop without really meaning it.

And, well. David's games are often irritating and tend to bring Joe pricklier attributes back to the surface, especially at the beginning, and Joe knows himself enough to realize he might not be able to stop his mouth from running away from him. It's good they've always been good at hearing each other past the mouth noises.

Armed with this knowledge, the tingle on Joe's spine shivers south, and Joe hears himself ask:

"When do you wanna start?"

David, beaming rolls them in bed until he can pepper kisses all over Joe's face, and by the end of the ensuing solid—normal, classic—bout of lovemaking that follows, he's all but forgotten his question.

ETA: More from this first draft in reblogs.

ETA 2: Currently publishing a cleaned up and fleshed up version of this over on terresdebrume @ AO3 for those who would like more of that kind of porn :P

#Matt writes #band of brothers #Webgott #David Webster #Joe Liebgott #s: domestic post war Webgott #10n

[heartfullofleeches]

We need a back story for creep reader and Miller. Cause I feel like creep reader did break in so they can steal some oddly placed energy drinks that was a trap. Miller just claims creep reader their spouse like they didn't trap a wild animal (creep reader) and married it the same night

I got new glasses so I can reader better! -👓🦇

There was really no one to blame for this but them.

Your neighbor was as harebrained as they came. From hush ordering spare keys when they thought no one was listening to carrying a lockpick when even those went missing, it was no surprise they eventually skipped locking their door as a whole on those scarce days they were away. It wasn't your fault for slipping in when they practically offered the place to you.

Their apartment was much cleaner than you imagined say for a disheveled bed. A stocked fridge and full furnished bedroom with equipment that could probably pay your rent for two years. You weren't after their money, or their food. You simply did it because you could. The sweet thrill of driving them over the brink of insanity their endless hours of streaming had to have pushed them towards was too tantalizing to pass by. Each time you snuck in, you rearranged the easily moveable furniture and hide their precious controllers in places they'd find by pure coincidence. Their audible confusion was the highlight of your week. You even found a couple sets of keys between the couch cushions and under their bed as you scrounge about - increasing your activity tenfold.

You snuck in while they were showering, watched them from the end of their bed when exhaustion finally caught up and they slumbered in the unknowing bliss of someone at their bedside. You could do pretty much anything if you really wanted. Sell their precious computer or leave a nice mark on that cute face their viewers wouldn't be able ignore. Overtime you got cocky. You began to actually steal things your eyes and stomach desired. It was their fault for having your favorite foods and leaving them lying out. You found containers in the fridge with home cooked variations of your favorite meals and expiration dates for the next day. You were doing them a favor by eating them.

Your actions inevitably caught up with you. After hearing them bragging about unboxing some big on their next stream, you couldn't resist taking away their big surprise. You patiently waited for them to retrieve that package from downstairs and until night fell to set your plan into fruition. You creeped over to your dear neighbors apartment, that sweet, lovable idiot who made sure to greet you everytime they saw you, and grabbed the box off their office table. The tape had already been cut and the flaps folded over to conceal what's inside. Seeing no harm in adding to your growing sheet of crimes, you peal back the corners and peer inside. It was a double of that jacket they always wore - a few sizes off than what would seem comfortable for them.

"You guys ready for the big surprise?"

The bedroom door flies open. A hand latches around your wrist and drags you into the abyss; your retinas burning as your faces with your own bewildered expression on the computer screen. Miller pulls their chair up behind your legs, pinning you to the seat and the view of thousands with their hands pressed tight to your shoulders. They lean over your right, grinning for the excited crowd.

"I'd like to introduce you all to my spouse. Guys, give a warm welcome to Y/n and be nice. They work late shifts and get pretty cranky when you wake them up so I thought a quick stream before they went to bed would be the best option. Had a crush on them for ages, but they were the one to make the first move. Isn't that right, sweetheart?"

As their fans both celebrate and express their surprise at seeing their favorite streamer wed, Miller plants a wet kiss to your temple - whispering into your skin.

"By the way, I'm a light sleeper."

#yandere streamer #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere #yandere scenarios #yandere insert #yandere headcanons #yandere oc #yandere blurb #yandere drabble #Miller my oc

[dearestro]

Heyyy love your work could I request maybe a james wilson x reader where they're trying to have children but she miscarries and like maybe their keeping it a secret but of course house finds out and is all supportive and them maybe like a happy ending where they do have a child

Tears and Fears

Warnings: Miscarriages, childbirth, innuendos, crude language, and angst. I apologize if I forgot anything!

Disclaimer: I know nothing about healthcare, diseases, childbirth, miscarriages, etc. Anything I have written has been found on the internet, so I apologize if it is incorrect!

Summary: After receiving some upsetting news, the reader and James are faced with a heartbreaking situation. But at least they have each other and just maybe...House?

Wilson's Pov

"Yeah...yeah. It's alright hun...I'll talk to Cuddy and see if I can get the rest of the day off...No, I'm coming to meet you...I-I love you..." I was still talking to my wife when House came in. "I'll see you soon. Bye." I hung up and dragged my hand down my face as I sighed in frustration, desperately trying not to break down. Not again.

"What's wrong? I haven't even started talking, and you already look like you want to kill yourself." House said as he walked over to my couch. 

"Nothing." I said a little too defensively. He quirked a brow at my seemingly unwarranted anger. "Look, I've got to talk to Cuddy so I can get someone to cover me, and I can take the rest of the day off. I'll see you tomorrow." I got up and started packing my things and headed for the door before turning around and looking at House. "Lock up for me." I said before leaving. After all, with all the pranks he's pulled on me throughout the years, there's no doubt in my mind that he already has a copy of my key.

I made my way to Cuddy's office. She was doing paperwork but looked up at me and smiled when I entered. 

"Dr. Wilson. To what do I owe the pleasure?" She said before a look of distaste came over her face. "Please tell me you are not here to try and convince me to follow through with one of House's harebrained schemes." I tried to smile, but it came out more as a grimace.

"Actually, I need the rest of the day off." Her eyebrows furrowed. "It's a...family...emergency." I tried to cover up the fact I started to choke up at the word 'family' by coughing and averting my eyes. She smiled sympathetically. 

"Of course. I'll get someone to cover for you." She nodded as I started to the door. "And Wilson. I'm really sorry." I nodded and hurried to the car.

After a long and grim car ride, I finally arrived at the hospital. 

"I'm looking for my wife? Mrs. y/n Wilson." The receptionist quickly directed me to her room. It took everything in me not to run when I saw the doors to her room. Upon getting closer, I picked up my pace and rushed into the room. She jumped at the sudden movement before looking at me. Tears streamed down her face, but once I met her eyes, we both fully broke down. I quickly knelt beside her and took her in my arms. "I'm so sorry, baby." I shook my head as she pushed hers into the crook of my neck.

"I was so close!" She cried as my heart wrenched at her words. 

"I know...I know sweetheart." I whispered as I stroked her hair.

"One more week! One...more...week...and the risk would've lowered to 2-4%." She shook her head, her face still buried in my chest. "It's not fair! I thought I did everything right..."

"It's not...it's not. You did do everything right it's not your fault. It's-it's just...bad luck." I could feel her tears seep into my shirt as my own fell into her hair.

Eventually, the hospital discharged her, not before offering their condolences. I asked her if she wanted me to pick her something up on the way home, but she just shook her head and continued to stare out the window. Clearly, we both had lost our appetite for today.

Once we got home, we sat for a second before I went over to her side of the car. We made our way into the apartment, and I sat her down on the couch. I sat down next to her, and she leaned on my shoulder as I held her.

"We-we can always try again." I rubbed her arm and kissed her hair, but she shook her head.

"What's the point?" She said she sounded defeated. "It's the second one in a year...maybe-maybe I wasn’t...meant to be a mother." Her voice wavered as she held back her tears. "Maybe it's for the best. I probably would've made a terrible mom anyway." She laughed bitterly. 

"No! No. You'd be the perfect mother! You're sweet, kind, caring, nurturing..." I tried to comfort her as we both cried. "We don't have to give up. I'm-I'm willing to try as many times as possible. All the time. I'll take off work, and we'll just-just make babies all week."

"Are you sure you could handle that?" She shook her head as she laughed.

"Well...maybe give me a few minutes between tries, but..." She laughed harder, her tears temporarily stopped. I smiled hearing her giggle even if it was at my expense.

"I really thought it'd work this time..." She smiled sadly as the brief happiness wore off. "After two miscarriages...the doctor said that your chances just keep getting worse and worse with each loss." 

"I know...but we can try all kinds of things. IVF, donors, adoption..." I tried to cheer her up, give her a little hope as I kissed her temple. 

"Yeah...I just...I really wanted to carry our baby. To feel them grow and kick and..." Tears started to stream down her face again. I sighed and rested my forehead against her hair.

"I'm sorry sweetheart."

The next day, I begrudgingly went to work. Y/n insisted that she'd be ok. I tried to stay in my office for the majority of the day but was called in and out for consultations.

I finally had a free moment in my office and went to call her when House barged in.

"Good, you're here. If I didn't know any better, I would've thought you were avoiding me." I rolled my eyes and tried to focus on dialing our home phone. It finally started to dial, but just as it began to ring, House hung up the receiver with his cane.

"House!" I shouted a little too angrily.

"Wilson!" He mocked. I sighed. "What is up with you? Trouble with the Mrs?" I ignored him in favor of looking over discarded paperwork. "So it is...what fourth ex Mrs. Wilson? That's too bad. This one wasn't totally awful." He continued to ramble on. "Did you cheat on her? She cheat on you? Stop 'meeting your manly needs'?"

"Stop!" I shouted, slamming down the files, finally having enough of his taunting. "For once in your life, can you just shut up? I'm tired and I'm frustrated! And don't even ask if I mean frustrated as in sexually frustrated!" He only stared as I broke down. I rested my head on the palms of my hands as I tried to calm down. By the time I looked back up, he was gone. "Jerk." I shook my head as I redialed my wife's cell.

House's Pov

At the sight of Wilson's pathetic breakdown, I left. Something's obviously wrong. However, he'd never admit it...at least not without being all emotional and crap. I rolled my eyes just thinking about it. 

I finally made it to Cuddy's office. I walked in on what looked like a meeting with the head of trauma. 

"Cuddy!" She rolled her eyes while apologizing to the doctor before she turned to me.

"House, I'm a little busy." 

"I'll take care of this." I walked in front of the doctor. "Thanks for your sub-par service. You're fired. Bye." I turned back to Cuddy. "See? You're not busy." She scoffed before dismissing him, apparently deciding she didn't want to fight.

"Ok then, House." She folded her hands in front of her before giving me an over exaggerated and forced smile. "How can I help you?"

"Glad you're so willing." She rolled her eyes as I ignored her blatant sarcasm. "Something's wrong with Wilson." Her face dropped for a second before she quickly fixed her facade.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. Maybe you should ask him." She said as she quickly busied herself with files.

"Liar!" I whacked my cane on her desk, making her jump. "Tell me."

"It's not my business to tell, and frankly, it's none of yours either." I scoffed before heading towards the door.

"I'm taking the rest of the day off!" I said and quickly walked away before she could stop me.

Your Pov 

I had been curled up on the couch the entire day, eating comfort food and watching reruns. I had been intermittently crying throughout the day and just got off the phone with James. Even at work, he insisted on checking in on me. I got up to throw out the empty carton of ice cream when the doorbell rang.

"Coming!" I discarded the trash and quickly tried to freshen myself up by raking my fingers through my hair and swiping at the tear stains. I opened the door to be faced with the one and only..."House?" He pushed past me and let himself in. I closed the door behind him and followed. "Shouldn't you be at the hospital?" I asked as he sat down on the couch, put his feet up on the coffee table, and started scrolling through the tv channels. 

"How are you and Wilson?" I raised a brow at the question. House was never one for pleasantries. 

"Fine..." I said still suspicious of his motives.

"How's the sex?" I blushed a little at his bold question.

"Good..." He turned to me with his brows raised.

"Just good?" I rolled my eyes, becoming increasingly agitated. 

"I meant great, no spectacular!" I said sarcastically. I sighed. "What do you want House? I'm tired, and I'm frustrated." 

"Aha!" I looked at him confused. "Wilson said the exact same thing today." Oh. I sat down beside him and grabbed the bag of chips I had left on the table.

"Did...did he tell you?" I asked as I sucked on a chip, my eyes staying focused on the tv.

"Yes." I swallowed the salty snack before sighing sadly.

"I...I don't know what to do. We want a baby so bad, but...I'm not sure I can handle a third miscarriage." He sighed before putting his hand on my knee. I looked up at him, a strange, sorrowful, almost regretful look on his face.

"Well...third time's the charm." I smiled weakly at the odd but caring sentiment.

"Yeah. Third time's the charm."

It was late in the evening by the time James got home. House had left hours ago, of course not before eating us out of house and home and making me binge his favorite soap with him.

"Hey babe." He leaned down and pecked me on the lips. 

"Hi..." I said softly. He came back from putting his things away.

"Are-are you ok?" He sat next to me and held my hands. His eyes were filled with worry. 

"House stopped by." I look of shock and worry crossed his face.

"What...what did he want?" 

"He said you told him." I shook my head and laughed a little. "Told me 'third time's the charm'." I felt tears pool in my eyes.

"I'll be right back..." He kissed my hairline before suddenly standing up and storming out of the house.

Wilson's Pov 

I hated to leave her, but I was blinded by rage. House had once again meddled with our lives, and this time, I would not stand for it. 

I finally reached House's apartment building. I stormed in before finding his door and pounding on it.

"House! I know you're in there!" I continued to hit the door until he opened it.

"Hey buddy! Come in." He said cheerfully. "I assume the wife told you about my little visit."

"You had no right!" I jabbed my finger in his chest as he rolled his eyes and pulled me inside. I tried to protest, but he pushed me onto the couch with his cane.

"Sit." He then hobbled off and came back with a stack of papers. "After I left your apartment, I decided to do a little research." He slammed down the papers on the coffee table. "In these papers, you'll find the best foods, diets, sleeping and sitting positions, medications, etc. for keeping your pregnancy safe and preventing miscarriages. As well as the number of a competent OBG." I looked at him in shock.

"What?" 

"Oh! Also, here's a list of the best sex positions to use during pregnancy." He handed me a paper. "It's technically safe to do all kinds of sex as long as you don't have any diseases and your doctor doesn't tell you otherwise. Although if I were you, I'd just ask for hand and blow jobs so you don't have to do anything but still get to have that special happy ending." He shrugged as I still stared at him in shock. I quickly shook my head, knocking myself out of my trance.

"First off. I'm not doing that. Secondly, my sex life is none of your business, and thirdly...thank you...I guess?" I started to look through the papers. Some of the information we had already known but there were plenty of things we hadn't thought of. I reached the page of the OBG. "Wait. This is the top OBG in the city. And it says that an appointment is already scheduled." I looked up at him in disbelief. "We've been trying to get in with her for months. How did you-?" He cut me off.

"She owes me a favor." I furrowed my eyebrows as he rolled his eyes and sighed. "Just leave and go have hot sex with your wife." I rolled my eyes as he turned to walk towards his kitchen. "Oh, and try out position number eight on that list! Did that with a hooker once. She almost quit hooking after that, wanted to get hitched right then and there!" I sighed. He was incredibly selfish and strange but...he cared...in his own screwed up way.

I entered the apartment with the stack of papers. Everything was quiet. 

"Y/n?" I heard some shuffling before she came into view. I sighed and hugged her. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have left like that I was just-" She cut me off with a kiss.

"Mad?" I nodded. "When you left in such a hurry after I told you about House...well, I figured you must not have actually told him and that he had lied to me." Our foreheads pressed together. 

"Right...I'm still sorry." She stroked my cheek and smiled slightly.

"It's alright." She dragged me to the couch. "What are all those papers for?" 

"Right! House printed out all this information for us..." She took the pages and looked through them. 

"Well...these are certainly...specific." I looked over to see the paper she had was the one about the best sex positions for during pregnancy. I blushed a little as I saw the diagrams with explicit instructions. 

"That's-that was House's...idea. I figured we could just throw that page away." She laughed lightly as she continued to look through the stack.

"I don't know. They might be...fun." She continued to giggle until she suddenly stopped. "We have an appointment with Dr. Ryans?" She gasped in excitement. "How?" I smiled and shrugged as she looked towards me.

"Apparently, she owes House a favor." She quirked a brow. "I don't know why, I figured it's probably better I didn't ask." She laughed and nodded in silent agreement. 

"We should go to bed." I raised a brow and smirked.

"To bed or to bed?" She laughed and patted my cheek.

"The first one." I put on an exaggerated pout before getting up and following her.

Your Pov

It had been a few months since the second miscarriage. It was hard, but thankfully, I had James. Together, we slowly got through it.

Tonight, I sat in the bathroom. A familiar plastic stick sat on the counter. I waited with baited breath. My phone alarm went off, and I quickly grabbed the test. Positive! I screamed in excitement, and James quickly came running in.

"What's wrong? Are you hurt?" I showed him the pregnancy test. He grinned and picked me up and spun us around before grabbing my face and kissing me. "You're pregnant?" He asked the shock, still clear on his face. I nodded excitedly before bringing him in a deep kiss. When I pulled back for air, I saw the tears in his eyes, and I could feel my own start to fall.

"I'm gonna miss our other two babies." I said. I was elated to be pregnant again, but it was bitter sweet. I was still scared for the future. He nodded.

"I know. I know. But they're safe now." I cried as he stroked my cheek, our foreheads pressed together. "We'll figure this out...together." He said as if he had read my mind. I smiled. I couldn't be more grateful for these moments even if they were tinged with a little pain.

"There's no one I'd rather go through this with." 

#dr wilson x reader #dr wilson x you #james wilson x reader #james wilson x y/n #james wilson x you #fanfic #fanfiction #james wilson #james wilson fanfiction #house md #house md fanfiction #rsl #robert sean leonard