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reiderwriter · 1 month

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Okay, I just wanted to start off and say I love your stories. They're always so good. You've reblogged one of my stories a while, and I actually squealed and scared the crap out of my friend. But yeah, I live you and your stories 💖💖💖

So I read your one story of Spencer being a soon-to-be dad, and I really like the idea of seeing Spencer and reader as actual parents just feeling the emotions. I thought something based around their daughter (because Spencer's a girl dad) hitting a milestone like walking, talking, or something even bigger like the first day of school. I don't know if that makes sense, but either way, I hope you like it!

A/N: I love the idea of new-dad Spencer. He deserves a loving family and a baby so much 😭 I combined this request with one of the prompts for @imagining-in-the-margins Kid Fic challenge which you can find the details for here! ❤️

Warnings: none, just fluff.

Masterlist

You never thought leaving to go for a spa day would be one of the hardest things you'd have to do in your life, but here you were.

In the ten months since you'd given birth to your daughter, you'd been stressed, lacking in sleep, leaking fluids from places that you forgot could have fluids leak from, and you'd been totally, irreversibly, head over heels in love.

Both with the tiny little gremlin you'd given birth to, and with the man that you watched become a father.

Spencer Reid was a great dad.

He'd had a fair amount of anxiety leading up to the birth, worrying about every detail, talking to geneticists, driving you to and from each check up or attending via video call if he was on a case. After she was born, he helped out as best he could.

For a man who had delivered a baby before and was absolutely great with his teammates' kids, he couldn't hold her for the first week without an intense look of panic crossing his features.

“Y/N, what happens if I drop her?”

“Y/N, she sneezed. What if I got her sick?”

“Y/N, she fell asleep, I can't move.”

A genius with an IQ of 187 slashed to 60 in front of a pretty girl. His tiny daughter had him thrown through a loop he got seriously stuck in.

He was still helpful, and he got used to all his new duties and tasks within a week, but watching those cute clueless expressions pass over his face now and then endeared you to him that much more.

He knew everything, but he had to learn this right there with you.

So yes, leaving for a relaxing spa visit was hard.

Spencer had been on a case for the last four days, his first since your daughter had arrived and the official end to his paternity leave. You'd been happy to see him get back to it, in all honesty. Spencer’s job, his research, and his work at the FBI were like muscles he needed to stretch. It wasn't that he couldn't live without them, but there would always be a part of him that felt stiff or unsure of himself without the possibilities of a case to unravel or some theorizing to do.

You were slightly panicked at the thought of being alone with your daughter for four days, but you managed. With a phone call home every single night where he asked you about every single thing your little bundle of joy had done outside of his watchful gaze.

Now, it was your turn.

Spencer had insisted on it upon returning from his case. He got four nights of relative peace after 20 months of waking up with the baby, sleeping with the baby, napping when the baby napped, carrying the baby around when it became evident that she was desperately scared of not being the center of attention.

He came back with a spring in his step, and the deep desire to see you get a solid night's rest the way he'd been able to.

You'd tried shooting him down, multiple times, to no reward.

“Spencer, you didn't exactly just up and go off gallivanting. You were working.”

“I was working, and I still got more rest than you. I really needed that sleep and time away, Y/N, and I think you do, too. Now, please, go away,” he'd pulled you into his arms when you'd put the baby down that night to reveal his brilliant plans.

“Just for the night. Go away for a lovely overnight break. Not indefinitely. I love you.” His panicked confession at the end sent you into giggles, that with a few well times kisses had you reluctantly agreeing to the girls trip he'd planned you.

The BAU girls had been roped into accompanying you on the trip, which honestly meant that he'd be getting status updates any time he asked for one.

JJ, Penelope, Emily, and Tara were all going to strong arm you into the car if need be to carry you off to the nearest 5(ish) star Hotel and Spa.

And that's exactly what happened.

The man had even packed the bag for you to send you off, had made you breakfast in bed and had run to every sound your daughter had made from dusk until dawn so you didn't have to lift a finger.

“Y/N, you're resting today.”

“But-”

“No. No buts. Just rest.”

“At least let me hold her for a second to say goodbye.” He blinked at you for a few seconds before his stubbornly helpful face turned softer, and he quickly handed your daughter back for a small cuddle.

With a lingering hug, you told your daughter - who absolutely did not care one bit that you would be wandering out of the house soon enough - that you'd be back in the morning, kissed your husband on the lips, and were swiftly kidnapped by JJ and Emily.

To your credit, you lasted two whole hours before breaking down.

The drive to the hotel was quick and peaceful, and it felt nice to breathe in the fresh air without having to also check for various baby smells.

You checked in fast, and all gathered in the in-hotel restaurant for brunch and mimosas, and then it hit you. Another mother walked in with a stroller, and you were blubbering.

Your bottom lip wobbled, and the rest of the world ceased to exist as you gave in to the emotions.

You knew, of course, that you were going to have to leave your daughter at some point. It wasn't healthy for either of you to have attachment issues, and you didn't want to hinder your daughters development by sticking too close - but that didn't mean you didn't miss her.

JJ noticed your watery eyes first. “Oh no, I know that look,” she smiled over her drink, taking a sip.

“What? What look?” You said, but giving yourself massively away with a good sniff and watery blink.

“You lasted longer than I did. I couldn't go half an hour without turning my car around and heading back to Henry, and I swear it was only worse with Michael.”

You giggled a bit as you wiped your eyes.

“Do you think… do you think we could go back? Just for a little bit. I just want to check on them.”

The women passed a look between them and then nodded back at you, obviously having expected this.

“Actually, we didn't book any spa treatments until the afternoon. We had a feeling something like this would happen,” Tara smiled at you, and you snorted in surprise as you dabbed away your tears with a handkerchief.

“We are laying some ground rules though,” Emily said, a stern tone fighting the playful smile on her face.

“We can peak through a window, but we're not going in. And we're not going to call ahead and let Spencer know. The kid needs to know you feel confident in his parenting skills, and if he's just got the baby settled and you come back in, it won't be easy to calm her down again.”

“You drive a hard bargain,” you said, but you were already halfway to the car by the time you could finish the sentence.

The girls pulled up a block away and let you walk calmly back to your front door.

You'd since agreed to a time limit and not to unlock the door. Emily went ahead to scope out the house, communicating with JJ on the phone who was holding your hand to stop you from wringing them.

You'd never been a part of the BAU, but somehow you felt like a team member on a case getting ready to stake out a target.

When Emily gave you the signal, the rest of the girls gave you space, and you ducked down to peer into your ground floor window.

Spencer was on his stomach with your daughter, and they were having what seemed like a riveting conversation.

“And so then I obviously got tongue-tied. Like I said, Daddy isn't good at talking to people, let alone beautiful women like Mommy.”

“Be be be da.”

“Exactly. I really embarrassed myself, actually. I went up to her and said ‘do you have a number?’ and she was so confused.”

“Ba!”

“Yeah, she sounded like that, too. I kept talking more and more, and she couldn't understand what I meant. She thought I was asking about her age at one point. I was just getting redder and redder, and then she grabbed my hand and led me to a seat at the back of the bookshop because she thought I was sick.”

He smiled down at the infant again, still babbling to herself.

“I was sick, of course, but it was just love sickness. I still am.”

The tears that you'd delicately wiped away earlier came back hot and heavy now as you resisted the urge to crawl through the window to your precious family.

Spencer was telling your daughter the story of how he first asked you out, near disastrously, and from the sounds of it, he wasn't done telling stories.

“I really love your Mommy, you know. She's wonderful.”

“Mmmm,”

“See, you think so too. Everyone thinks so.”

“Mmmma”

“Yes, your Mama. You’re just like her, everyone loves you, too.”

“Mama.”

You heard Spencer's breath hitch as you closed a hand over your mouth to stop a shocked squeal from coming out.

“T-That's right. Mama. One more time, say mama.”

“Mama,” the little baby squealed in delight, reacting to her fathers utter joy.

“You're speaking. One more time, Mama.”

“Mama!”

“Your mama is going to be so mad,” Spencer whispered, grabbing his daughter up in one more careful hug and kissing her face as she giggled delightfully. “We need to keep this a secret. Tomorrow, you'll have you say your first word in front of her, and we'll both act surprised, okay? Promise?”

The gargle he got in response was enough to have your shoulders shaking as the others extricated you from your own front lawn.

Back in the car, you broke down into giggles and tears, shoulders rising and falling in sobs and laughter intermittently.

“Is this a total psychotic break or just a symptom of seeing Spencer as a dad?” Penelope asked, nudging you with her elbow as you tried to regain your composure.

“It's… whew, it's okay. We can go back now.”

“You sure?” JJ asked from the driver's seat, and you nodded once again.

“Yeah. I'm fine now. I'm really good.”

The women all offered you similar smiles as you drove away, blissful and content.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

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milfsloverblog · 2 months

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Third Time’s a Charm

college professor!Larissa Weems x fem!reader

A/N: Hello, hello! Finally posting the fic I shared an excerpt of a while ago. This is an AU where Larissa is a college history professor and reader an ex student of hers. Everyone is of age, Larissa didn’t know reader as a minor, etc etc. LOOSELY inspired by real life events. 🫡

Have fun! <3

“I don’t want to bother you, Miss Weems.”

“Nonsense!” Larissa had smiled, dismissing your worry with a wave of her hand. “I’m offering. It’s pouring, I’m not letting you go home on your own. You’ll be soaked to the bone!”

And that’s how it all started. On a rainy Tuesday night nearly a month ago. Larissa had dropped you off at home any time she could ever since, whether it was pouring outside or not.

You didn’t really think much of it at first. Larissa had been your history professor the previous year. She’d always seemed detached. Not that she wasn’t a great professor - she was an excellent one - but she always kept her distance from her students. She was one hell of a woman. One that no one would want to mess with.

Again, you hadn’t really thought much of it at first. Not until something else had somehow developed between the two of you. Or at least it had on your side. Friendship, perhaps. That’s what you tried to convince yourself of. Friendship. But friends didn’t look at each other the way you had started to.

You never thought of Larissa as a funny woman. If anything she would have been considered a stern one by most people. And yet she always went out of her way to make you laugh whenever it was just the two of you in her car.

And then there had been a friendly hug one day. Some stupid crap, as you’d put it, had happened and you had stayed quiet through the whole ride back home which had alerted Larissa.

“You don’t have to tell me anything, I know how much silence can be comforting sometimes. But still, if you wish to share…” Her voice had been sweet like honey, like she really cared. And you had just spilt everything out. The anxiety, the anger, the sadness about everything and anything. You had spilt your guts out on the pristine interior of her Chevrolet. And she had listened. She had stayed quiet, nodding when necessary. And when you’d been done spitting it all out, Larissa had pulled you into her arms. And how right it felt, to be gently squeezed into her warm embrace.

Everything had changed from that moment, like you had somehow opened Pandora’s box. The couple of weeks that followed only deepened what had sparked inside you that night.

Larissa stopped the car, a heavy silence instantly falling between the two of you. The tension, you thought, could have been cut with a knife. You could almost feel it under your fingertips.

The woman’s hand moved to rest on your leg, right above your knee. She gave it a gentle squeeze, her thumb rubbing at your skin. A soothing gesture. You wondered if perhaps you should return it.

Still, that heavy silence.

“Can I kiss you ?”

A beat.

Larissa’s silence was enough of an answer to you but still, you watched as her tongue darted out to wet her crimson lips before she spoke.

“No,” She said. And before you could ask why, like she knew you would, Larissa went on. “And I’m not saying that I don’t want to. But if I kiss you, there is no turning back. If I kiss you, I won’t be able to stop. And I can’t.”

“Why not?”

Larissa almost let a chuckle out. Almost. She knew you like the back of her hand.

“Because this-“ She said, gesturing her hand between the two of you. “This is already way past what we should do.”

“What we’re allowed to do, you mean.”

“Yes.” She nodded. “What we’re allowed to do.”

“And yet we’re still doing it.”

You were right and Larissa knew it. But still, as long as she didn’t kiss you it hadn’t gone too far.

Desire was a funny thing - Larissa had found that out quite a long time ago. But she couldn’t let herself be tempted by you. She was twice your age, you had been under her authority, you were still a student even if not hers anymore, you-

“I think I should go.”

The silence had stretched for too long and you needed to swallow the rejection you’d just faced. Well, it wasn’t really rejection, right? Larissa wanted it, but you simply couldn’t. She wanted it, right? Or maybe she didn’t and this was her way of gently pushing you away.

“I will see you tomorrow. Have a good night.” Larissa’s hand left your knee and you immediately missed its warmth against your flesh.

“Night.” You said before getting out of the car and getting inside of your flat as quickly as you possibly could.

You avoided Larissa like the plague the next day and even thought about leaving early so you could walk home but she had opened her car door as soon as you’d stepped into the parking lot. The ride had been excruciatingly awkward with Larissa trying to fill the silence with anything that came to her mind.

Eventually, she parked outside your flat, watching you pick at an invisible lint on your jeans.

“I’m sorry for making things awkward between us.” You said barely audibly, keeping your eyes down.

“Look at me,” Larissa started. When you kept your head down, her fingers grabbed your chin and forced you to look at her. “You didn’t make anything awkward.”

You almost didn’t hear what she was saying, the pressure of her fingertips on your skin making your brain freeze.

Your mouth fell open and Larissa watched as the tip of your tongue darted out to wet your lips. She swallowed thickly, unsuccessfully trying to ignore the images that had been conjured into her mind.

“Gods…” She whispered before slowly turning your head to the side.

Kissing was out of line, but maybe… She wasn’t thinking straight. Larissa wasn’t thinking straight, she obviously wasn’t or she wouldn’t have latched onto your neck the instant that followed.

You couldn’t help the moan that escaped you, something between surprise and pleasure. The surprise only lasted for a second before you grabbed the back of Larissa’s head and pulled her impossibly closer.

“Let me kiss you-“ you pleaded, voice hoarse as the woman’s mouth continued its assault on your neck.

“I can’t-“ Larissa whispered between two kisses, making you snap out of your trance. You felt like you’d go berserk any second.

“You can’t blur the line and expect me not to cross it.” You blurted out as you pulled away from her. “You can’t drive me home and flirt with me and put your hands on me only to act surprised when I want to kiss you.”

Larissa’s hand that had been on your neck stayed still in the air when you pulled away. Guilt filled the woman’s body, making her stomach suddenly feel heavy.

“I won’t ask again,” you eventually said when the silence had stretched out for too long. “I might be foolish, but not foolish enough to keep begging.”

Larissa didn’t know what to say, she only blankly stared at you, lips half open as if she was searching for something - anything - to answer.

You shook your head a little and your hand grabbed onto the door handle, you’d had enough. You had already opened the car door when the woman’s hand wrapped around your bicep to hold you back.

“Larissa,” you sighed as you turned to face her. Before you could add anything else, the woman pulled you closer and crashed her lips against yours.

Larissa’s kisses were just like she was. Demanding and yet loving. It felt like the world had stopped spinning and you’d been propelled against the windshield at an incredible speed.

God, she was kissing you.

And so you kissed her back, with all you had. And whenever one of you would pull back to catch their breath, the other one was quick to steal another kiss from their lips. You kissed and kissed and kissed again. You kissed until the windows were all fogged up. Until your lungs began to burn and your head spun from the lack of oxygen. And even then you didn’t stop kissing.

“Do you want to come inside? For a drink?” You asked when she eventually pulled away.

“Don’t push your luck.” She chuckled softly, her lips plumped from your gentle biting.

“I offered a drink, not a quickie.” You rolled your eyes and watched as Larissa’s mouth shut closed. No doubt her cheeks had turned pink but you couldn’t tell in the darkness of the car.

“Next time. Whenever you and I don’t have classes the next day.” She smiled.

You gave a small nod and froze for a second. Were you allowed to kiss her again? Before you could give it a second thought you cupped Larissa’s cheek and placed a soft kiss on her lips.

“I will see you tomorrow.” She whispered as you pulled away.

You nodded again and took a last look at her before getting out of the car.

You weren’t sure what all of this implied, you thought as you turned the key inside your door lock. What it meant for the future. What it even meant for tomorrow. All you were sure of was that Larissa Weems had kissed you and you had kissed her.

And little did you know, it would happen again.

————————————————————————

taglist: @weemssapphic, @im-a-carnivorous-plant , @dingdongthetail , @azu-zu, @gwensfz , @erablaise-blog , @barbarasstar , @rainbow-hedgehog , @renravens , @kaymariesworld , @niceminipotato , @agathaandgwenslesbian , @witchesmortuary , @notmeellaannyy , @weemswife , @m-0-mmy-l-0-ver33 , @redkarine , @women-are-so-ethereal , @opheliauniverse , @willisnotmental , @raspburrythief , @fictionalized-lesbian , @ness029 , @geekyarmorel , @h-doodles , @cxndlelightx , @m1lflov3rrr , @winterfireblond , @nocteangelus15 , @aemilia19 @vendocrap8008 @jkregal @gela123 @lilfartbox1 @xuukoo @bellatrixsbrat @sadsapphic-rose @dumbasslesbi @larissaoftarthweems @larissalover3 @friskyfisher @thesamesweetie @fliesinmymouth @imprincipalweemspet @bitchr-mkay @forwhichidream11 @amateurwritescm @imlike-so-gaydude @sugipla @lvinhs

#gwendoline christie #larissa weems x reader #larissa weems #principal weems #larissa weems x y/n #no beta we die like larissa

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moonhoures · 6 months

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Watch Yourself

🕷️ kinktober — day 17: mirror sex🕸️

pairing: jeonghan (svt) + reader (afab/fem)

genre: non-idol!au, smut, angst/comfort, fluff

warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, explicit smut, [reader is insecure & has negative thoughts about herself/her body so if that makes you uncomfy please don’t read this! mentions of stretch marks, weight gain, cellulite] established relationship, husband!jeonghan, body worship, mirror sex, fingering, marking

word count: ~1.9k

synopsis: you admit to your husband that you’re having negative thoughts about yourself again, so he tries to remind you why you shouldn’t

a/n: i usually don’t write with a focus on specific body types, so i tried to keep this vague but *shrugs* if you don’t feel comfy reading that’s okay! also, sorry for the wait! something came up and i wasn’t able to queue it in time 🤥

posted: october 17, 2023

kinktober masterlist

The day had barely started, and you had already decided it wasn’t going to be a good one. You were rudely awoken at the ungodly hour of six a.m. The sun wasn’t even up yet, but you were. You tried to go back to bed, but each attempt at closing your eyes and relaxing were fruitless. You just couldn’t get comfortable again; you were too hot or too cold. The room was too quiet, and your thoughts were too loud. With a heavy sigh, you peeled the covers back and quietly stepped out of the bed to use the restroom. While you washed your hands, you looked at yourself in the mirror. And just like every other day this week, you frowned at your reflection.

You had a history of negative thoughts of your body. But you had spent a long time recovering from that toxic mindset. Your husband was a big part of that process. Jeonghan knew about your issues, and he had no problem letting you know that he liked you every and any way you looked. Even after five years together, no matter if you were in fancy clothes or sweatpants, his eyes lit up the same way when he set his eyes on you. He made you like your body for the first time in a long time. But some times were harder than others, and this week had been a hard time.

Nothing had really set it off. You had just been having low self esteem that then snowballed into nitpicking the way you looked in the mirror. If it wasn’t your face then it was your arms, or your stomach, or your legs, or your breasts. Sometimes it wasn’t just about your physicality. You felt like crap. You had mood swings and unwarranted anxiety. You overthought a lot. You felt like you weren’t enough, or you were boring.

You tried your absolute best to save face in front of your husband, not wanting to burden him with your issues, but he knew. He always knew. The slightest shift in your behavior would tip him off. Today was no different.

After you spent several minutes staring in the bathroom mirror, mentally berating yourself, you re-entered the bedroom. You shut the restroom light off but noticed Jeonghan’s bedside lamp was turned on, bathing the room in the softest white light. Your steps came to a halt just out of the doorway as you made eye contact with him. He was sitting up on his side, nearest to the bathroom, looking at you with a small smile just before he yawned.

“Decided to be an early bird today?” he joked.

You knew he was joking, but you couldn’t help but feel an immense amount of guilt for waking him up. You frowned once again, “Did I wake you? I’m so sorry. You can go back to bed, I’ll go in the living room.”

You went to leave the room, but he stopped you with one word, “No.”

For the second time, you came to a halt mid-step and met his eyes from across the room.

“Come here,” he gestured you over with two fingers. As you got closer, you could tell how tired he was. The skin under his eyes were smudged with that faint purplish-brown color that he only got when he didn’t get enough sleep. Your heart sank, “Sit.”

You did as he told you, sitting facing him as he scooted over to make some room for you on the edge of the bed. He looked into your eyes, searching for something, but you weren’t sure what it was yet.

“What’s been going on in that big, beautiful brain of yours?” he asked, a stray piece of his fringe falling over his eyebrow. You so badly wanted to push it back where it came from. His hair looked so soft first thing in the morning.

“Nothing, I just couldn’t go back to sleep,” you supposed it wasn’t a complete lie.

“________,” he said your name the same way a disappointed parent would, “Please talk to me.”

You took a deep, shaky breath, mentally preparing yourself to unload, “I’ve been in one of my moods lately. Just feeling bad about myself. About the way I look. The way I feel. It’s just . . . been a lot.”

Your husband’s soft features seemed to harden the more you spoke, as if he was upset or angered by the words he was hearing. You averted your gaze from his, too ashamed to meet those beautiful brown eyes. For a moment he didn’t speak, he just looked at you. You started to feel uneasy under his stare, but then he was moving, carefully pulling the sheets back to free his legs. You asked him what he was doing, but he didn’t respond.

So, with worry setting in, you sat on the edge of the bed. You watched as he got up from the bed (in only his briefs) to cross the room where your full-length mirror was propped up in the corner. Despite the mirror being pretty hefty by itself, he picked it up with what looked like minimal effort. He placed it right in front of the wall opposite from where you sat, then he climbed back onto the bed, settling in right behind you.

He placed his hands on your shoulders, and you finally met his gaze through the mirror.

“What about your body do you not like?” he asked.

You felt frozen in place, and it didn’t help that his hands felt like they were anchoring you down. You weren’t going anywhere, as far as he was concerned.

“Tell me,” he urged you again.

You swallowed the nervousness building in your throat. Your eyes, along with his, raked over the image of your body in the mirror. From only a few feet away, the first thing you noticed was how bloated you looked, “I’ve been gaining a little weight in my stomach.”

Instantly, Jeonghan’s hands were slithering from your shoulders down to your torso. His lithe fingers splayed out over the soft fabric of your shirt covering your belly, “This stomach? The one I spend hours a week cooking for to make sure it’s fed and happy? To make sure you’re healthy? A little weight isn’t anything to worry about. It’s normal, ________.”

You refused to make eye contact with him, for fear of your eyes tearing up.

“What else?”

Your eyes spotted the top of your arms, the faint stretch marks you had grown accustomed to over the years were just barely showing from where your arm brushed against your ribs, “My arms.”

Your husband’s hand encircled your wrist, carefully turning your arm so that it was outstretched and your stretch marks were on display. He leaned down just enough for his lips to effortlessly press kisses to the delicate skin there, the shallow fissures not deterring him in the slightest. Truthfully, he never noticed them until you brought them up.

“My legs have cellulite,” you muttered so quietly, not even realizing you had said it out loud until he moved his hands down to your thighs.

His blunt fingernails drew goosebumps to the surface of your skin as he dragged them smoothly up your leg. He gripped your flesh in his palm, then soothed it with a gentle, massaging gesture, “These are not things you should feel bad about, _______.”

He whispered that against the shell of your ear, making you close your eyes to keep tears from spilling. You felt his supple lips press tender, healing kisses against the skin of your neck and shoulder. His hands snaked over your body, revisiting the areas you’ve pinpointed. Without words, he was telling you how much he loved your body. Exactly how it was. He always would.

“My wife is the most beautiful woman in the world,” he said, his fingertips sliding between your thighs. Your skin there was naturally warm. Your breath hitched in your throat as he grazed over the material of your underwear while his other hand parted your legs. He loved that you didn’t wear pants to sleep. This way he could see the space between your thighs in the mirror; in fact, his eyes were locked on it, “You don’t think my wife is beautiful?”

You didn’t speak. You couldn’t. You didn’t know how to respond to that; or rather, you didn’t know how he wanted you to respond.

“Tell her she’s beautiful,” he spoke sternly, not giving you the option to say ‘No’.

“She is,” you said, a shaky gasp escaping you as his fingertips dipped beneath the edge of your panties.

He rubbed the pads of his fingers over your slit, his words ghosting over your neck as he spoke, “She’s what?”

“Beautiful,” you said.

“That’s right,” he continued to stroke your sensitive skin that was growing wet the more he worked you up. Your chest moved up and down with every heavy breath you took. He was holding back a smirk at the effect he had on you. And you could definitely feel the effect you had on him, his erection was practically poking your ass from behind, “My wife is the most beautiful woman on Earth.”

You nodded, not even really listening to what he was saying anymore. All you could focus on was the way his fingers were circling your clit perfectly. You rested your head on his shoulder, letting him have his way with his lips and teeth on your neck. Hickeys were blossoming all along the skin there, and you couldn’t care less.

“You’re always the prettiest person in every room,” he talked to you while your hips chased after his fingers that were relentlessly pleasuring you, “You’re the smartest. The most beautiful. The funniest. The most caring. You’re the best partner I could ever ask for, you know that, don’t you?”

You were too far gone, eyes beginning to close. Your thighs were starting to ache, wanting to close around his wrist. Jeonghan simply pushed them back open with his free hand before using his fingers to tilt your chin up. He caught your wide-eyed gaze in the mirror ahead of you two, and he looked like a teacher on the verge of reprimanding a student.

“__________,” just the way he said your name sent a chill down your spine.

“I know,” you agreed and, for the first time this morning, he believed you.

“Good, now I want you to watch yourself cum,” he gripped your chin gently, keeping your eyes locked on the sight before you.

You couldn’t deny him even if you wanted to. He kept you locked in. His fingers were bringing you to orgasm, his soft fingertips keeping a determined pace on the button at the top of your folds. They sent your pussy into a frenzy, clenching and pulsating around nothing, arousal leaking out onto your skin. It was getting to be too much, so you had to pull his hand away. But he only intertwined his fingers with yours, bringing your arms up to your chest as he hugged you from behind.

“Don’t keep all these thoughts to yourself,” his gentle voice floated over the skin of your shoulder before he pressed a kiss to it, “As your husband, I’ll be here for you whenever you need me. However you need me. I said that in my vows, and I meant it. Every word.”

— taglist #1

@jaylaxies @xiaoting999 @kookthief @zaddywilk @wonrangwoo @pedriswrld @ikykleeknowww @odisdad @abby-grace @jungwonloveer @pinklemonadeflav @celestialplatinum @luvkpopp @nlklstan @kisses4denji @jenos-eye-smiles @a-l-i-y-a @channiesprincess @bekah931215 @heerinnie @fairygirl18 @cinnikoi @im-ur-calico-cat @unlikelysublimekryptonite @k-drizzle @iguanas-world

#seventeen smut #svt smut #jeonghan smut #yoon jeonghan smut #[🕷️] kinktober 23 #seventeen fanfic #svt fanfic #jeonghan fanfic #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #jeonghan imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #jeonghan scenarios #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #jeonghan x reader

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dejwrld · 4 months

Text

summary — the story of how international rockstar & the international pop star met at gojo satoru's party

warning readers discretion is advised ⸻accumulated word count of 4.9k, female reader, rockstar!choso, popstar!reader, famous jjk au, told in third pov (choso pov), mentions of gojo being an actor, alcohol consumption, profanity, mentions of yuji, kechizu, & eso, kechizu and eso are described as humans, mentions of choso winning a grammy, mentions of grandpa itadori owning a onigiri shop, setting: tokyo, japan, thigh fucking, do not do the do in your grandpa’s onigiri shop, minors do not interact!

sticky note from deja — somebody asked how choso and reader would have met. so i am here to write that! i accidentally deleted the ask lmfao. so here is something quick, that turned into something long. this fic is a standalone from my previous choso fic, it takes place before that fic though | divider credit @/v6que

Choso wasn’t the biggest fan of parties when he had just gotten off tour three days ago and wanted to spend his one-month hiatus disconnecting from practically everything and everyone. He knew as soon as the month ended, it would be crunch time to prepare for his next album—plus being a judge on this music competition show. He wanted to prepare himself mentally and spend time with his brothers. But here he was wall hugging with a drink at one of Gojo Satoru’s parties. The insane thing about this party is that it was at Satoru’s place; he oddly trusted every celebrity that littered his place to be comfortable with it. Choso’s anxiety would go through the roof at the thought of someone possibly spilling wine on his couch, but this was Gojo Satoru. If he needed an interior designer to redecorate his place in four days—he’d do it.

“You’ll never guess who just messaged me saying they’re coming through because they’re in Japan for two weeks.” Satoru’s voice shrieked over the music. He waved his phone in Choso’s face so aggressively that Choso couldn’t see what he was showing him.

“The Y/N L/N.” He said. “The three-time Grammy award-winning one!”

“I’m a Grammy winner.” Choso joked, sipping from his cup, and Satoru’s crystal blue eyes stared at the raven-haired male as if he’d grown an extra arm.

“But you aren’t a three-time Grammy award winner, and I know you, Choso. We all know each other.” He corrects as he eyes his best friend, Geto Suguru, playing pool with movie director Nanami Kento. “So, if you see her. Don’t be weird. You tend to be weird around beautiful women.”

Choso’s lips parted to argue, but Gojo just shook his head, not wanting to hear whatever excuse would come out of the rockstar’s mouth before eventually going to tend to his other guests. Choso took that mental note to avoid the woman altogether. He had heard about her. If you didn’t, you had to live under the ground because everyone knew her. Even here in Japan, she had a solid fanbase. She was Pop’s current it girl, and Choso highly doubted she was going anywhere at the time, especially considering that her latest single was Number 1.

As Choso stepped outside on the balcony of Satoru’s luxury penthouse, the sound of the music blasting was left behind as he glanced out at the skyline of downtown Tokyo. His mind attempted to find peace until a voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Crap, someone found my hiding place.”

When Choso glanced over, he saw her. The one that Gojo was raving about her arrival. He straightened himself up, immediately remembering Satoru’s words. He was in front of a rising music legend at the moment. The talk of Japan since the news dropped that she was coming here.

“You do know the party host is currently anticipating your arrival?” He closed the gap between them as she stepped closer so she could hear him a bit better.

“I mean, yeah. But I just wanted to enjoy the alone time before I’m bombarded with the sea of taking selfies with so many people,” She responds with a chuckle. “I stole this bottle of champagne from his bar, though. I hope he doesn't mind.” She sips from the bottle before placing it down.

“You’re hiding from the party, huh? Didn’t think a rockstar wouldn’t be the life of a party right before him.”

Choso’s cheeks heated at her words. One.) Her eyes scanned him as if she was checking him out. Two.) He realized that she may have known who he was.

“I get one month off after a worldwide tour. I kinda didn’t want to use this night partying with people who only hit me up when they want me on the guest lists of their party,” He responds.

“So, what would you do?” The popstar asks.

“Probably hang out with my brothers. It’s been months since I saw them in person.” Choso comments with a sigh. “We have so much catching up to do,”

“Then let’s go,” She responds as she turns around to grab her miniature purse that Choso was sure could only fit about three things at most.

“Huh?” He questions. “Did you not hear me say that the party's host is waiting for you,” He repeats.

“I did, and I want to go with you to hang with your brothers,” She sighs. “I’ve been going to parties since I arrived here in Japan. Missing one won’t hurt,” She pushes the oversized shades on her face with a smile, and Choso felt his cock & heart flutter. “I haven’t been able to enjoy Japan, so why not enjoy it with a rockstar instead.”

Choso chuckles before he nods in agreement. “Well, how do you feel about motorcycles?” He asks. He rocks back and forth on his heels before giving the woman a grin as she is thinking.

“My manager would oppose me getting on one, but my manager isn’t here.” She points out. “So, what the hell.” She throws her hands up. “But we also have another problem.” She peeks over the balcony, and despite being many floors up from the ground, she can still see the flashing of paparazzi cameras.

“Oh, I came in through the backway. I’ve been to Satoru’s penthouse parties many times and learned the many exits and entrances. Don’t worry; your fans won’t get any photos of you leaving a party with some sleazy rock slash alternative musician.” He grins at her and decides to enter the place, fully not expecting her to follow behind him.

Choso can only imagine the photos if they were caught together. They probably would think he was corrupting her, or she was in her bad girl phase. Either way, he didn’t mind. But he hated people in his business, and being seen with her meant people would be in his business. It’s a reason why he’s paying off restitution to a paparazzi guy. The guy was in his business, and Choso may have broken his camera.

“Wait up! I’m coming!” Her voice screams over the music as she catches up to Choso to grab upon the black leather jacket he wore.

Just like that, the international rock and pop stars quickly left Gojo Satoru’s party. Choso had taken the elevator to the second floor, Y/N not far behind him as she was more aware of her surroundings than he was. Then, they used the emergency fire exit to exit the building. There, Choso’s BMW R18 motorcycle was where he left it. He picked up the spare helmet and gave it to Y/N.

“Just hold on to me. I promise I won’t hurt the world’s favorite pop princess.” He pulled the helmet over his face as she giggled at his comment.

“I hope not because my fans would want your head on a pike.” She smirked as she got on the motorcycle right after him. Instantly, Y/N’s arms are snaking around his waist.

“Well, good thing I also have insane fans.” Choso backfires before turning on the motorcycle, the engine roaring out Y/N’s snarky comment in response.

Choso knew that his brothers probably were at Yuji’s grandfather's onigiri shop because on Fridays, it’s busier than usual, and the old man was too stubborn to hire anybody else when he had (and Choso quote) ‘strong grandsons to help an old man out.’ Choso did not pay for the ten-year-old shop renovations for him having to come back from tour to throw on an apron and go home smelling like seawood and rice. But it was pretty late; the shop was probably closed, and his siblings were circled around a table eating what hadn’t been sold. Yuji would blabber on about his senior year and exams. Because of his dance classes, Eso would most definitely have his leg prompted up on a chair with bags of ice on it. In contrast, Kechizu head would be into his Steam deck console to even care about Yuji swiping fish cakes off his plate. He knew his brothers like he knew the lyrics he wrote; they were imprinted in his brain because they were all he had if fame, money, and luxury were taken away.

When he parked the motorcycle, he helped Y/N off it and removed the helmet. “I hope you like Onigiri.” He says.

“Well, I only tried it once from a convenience store.” Her fingers combed through her braids that traveled down her back before smoothing out the black jumpsuit she wore.

“I promise these are better.” He held the door open for her, and as he had expected, the place was closing. Chairs were placed on most tables except for the one his brothers occupied.

All of them had different dads; it was a frequent talking point in Choso's interviews with magazines, radio stations, and so on. Yes, the world knew their mother, who wasn’t the best mom—slept around. It wasn’t a secret; maybe it did help some bloggers throw jabs at him. However, Choso wasn’t ashamed of where he came from and how he was raised. Regardless if all his brothers looked differently, they were still his brothers. So what if Yuji resembled his father with his pastel pink-shaded hair and bright eyes? Or Eso, who was the tallest despite being the middle child and he had a passion for ballet dancing. Then Kechizu, who people assume was the youngest, was as quiet as can be—very observant but knew every fuckin’ fact about some retro video game. They all acted so differently—looked so differently, but they were still so close as if they were raised in the same household.

“Holy shit!” Yuji exclaimed as his eyes beamed at the door when he saw Choso and Y/N walk in. “Holy shit!” He repeated.

“Language,” Choso exclaimed as he stepped forward to ruffle Kechizu’s green-colored hair. The second youngest child swatted his brother’s hand as he tried to continue to play Fortnite. “Do we have room to add another to the table?”

“Of course, the Y/N L/N is in my presence. Todo is going to freak out when I tell him.” Yuji squeals as he moves his chair over for Choso to add a chair in between him and Yuji for the pop star.

Y/N gives them a smile that Choso has seen her give to many people—interviewers, musicians, her fans. She took the seat in between Yuji and himself, and Choso couldn’t help but to slap the back of his younger brother's head as the pastel pink-haired teenager leaned back to take a peek at Y/N’s while she sat down.

“So are you two like-”

“It’s none of your business,” Choso interjected as he glared at Yuji because he just had to be the curious cat within the brothers.

The group continued to eat, with small conversations about things from the tour to Y/N’s music. Even though she had just met his brothers, she fit in perfectly with them. Granted, he didn’t like that she did about five math problems for Itadaori. The way she made the room feel much brighter made Choso’s cheeks heat as he observed the room. Now she was talking about dance with Eso, completely lost in the topic as they gushed about the first dance classes they took.

“I was eight when I took my first dance class. It was ballet; I practically had two left feet.” She chuckles after taking a bite of the onigiri. “You have wonderful legs, Eso, so I know you’re a killer dancer.” She compliments him.

Her glossed lips formed a straight line as she thought about something, “You know, I have a show at this festival before I go home. If you don’t have any plans, I’m down a dancer for my team. I know it’s short notice, but some pretty important people will be in the crowd…” Her voice trails off as a smile appears on Eso’s face. “Only if you’re down. Don’t feel pressured because it’s me.”

“I would be honored. Send me where you guys rehearse, and I’ll be there.” Eso smiles at her as they exchange phone numbers and socials.

“Well, since you’re giving out opportunities. Can you set me up to meet a couple of people?” Yuji opened the notes app on his phone with his list. “Jennifer Lawrence, Tom Holland, maybe Megan thee Stallion too.”

“You have a rockstar older brother. Why can’t you ask him?” Y/N questioned as her eyes playfully glared at Yuji.

“He said, and I quote…I refuse for you to embarrass me.” Yuji mocked Choso’s tone and was met with a chopstick thrown at him.

Just as Choso was about to interject, Wasuke Itadori came from behind, questioning who would close up. Silence overcame the group, and Yuji even slumped lower in his seat to prevent himself from being chosen. He had closed the shop for three days straight because his brothers were ever so busy with their lives.

“Choso, since you have a guest…you guys will close up.” Wasuke tugged on his jacket just as Yuji and the others collected their things to leave. “Before you lie and say you have some band thing, I know you’re off tour and on vacation.”

“Shit,” Choso uttered as he stood to collect the shop’s keys from the older guy. “We’ll clean up and lock up the shop. Don’t need to worry.”

“Good, and don’t keep your lady friend out so late. That’s not very gentlemanly. But what can I say? Chivalry is dead when it comes to your bunch.” He gives Y/N a wink as he leads the others out of the shop, leaving the two musicians all alone.

“You have a unique family.” Y/N stands.

“You don’t have to stay to help me close up? Like he said, I don’t want to keep you out so late.” Choso tears his leather jacket off and tosses it on one of the chairs.

He sported a black t-shirt that reasonably fitted him. His biceps bulged just a bit with each flex of him picking up dishes to clean them in the kitchen. Even Y/N couldn’t help but stare as he moved around the eating area.

“I don’t mind helping, plus you’re kinda my ride back to where I’m staying.” She collected the other dishes and followed Choso into the kitchen.

“Well, let’s hurry because I don’t want to have you out too late. You probably have something to do in the morning.”

“Just rehearsal that starts at noon.”

“I remember those days. Gosh, so glad the tour is over with.” He emptied the plates and put the dishes in the sink.

“How was the tour for you? From the looks of social media, it seemed like it wasn’t a dull moment,” She points out as she rolls her sleeves up. She took the place next to Choso with a cloth to dry the dishes that Choso was washing.

“Fun. Sometimes, I love being on the road, but I like being around my family more. I get homesick like shit when I’m touring. But when I go out and perform—do what I love to do, and it reminds me why I do it.” Choso explains while passing a dish to Y/N to dry. “It feels like just yesterday I was singing in bars in Roppongi district.”

When he turned his head, he was met with her gaze. His whole body betrayed him because he immediately felt the heat in his cheeks. When Choso blushed, it was as noticeable as can be. His cheeks turned an embarrassing shade of red that took minutes to go away.

“I’m sure your brothers are very proud of you.” She smiles and places another plate to the side.

“What about you? It’s your first time performing here?” He asked.

“Yeah, I’m nervous. But it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

He hummed at her words before the two returned to washing the dishes. Their arms briefly bump into each other, and they find themselves uttering apologies for something so subtle.

“So, I’m curious to ask. Since other than the news of you performing at this music festival this week. Are you still dating that guy? That actor…” His voice trails off, wondering if that was an intrusive question.

“Why’d you ask? For yourself or your little actor friend Satoru?” Her elbow nudges against his side after she puts another dried plate to the side.

Choso was quiet for a second. When he talked to Gojo earlier, the actor didn’t seem interested in the popstar—but it was Gojo. He had his way of trying to get with someone that left many (including Gojo) confused. Choso wouldn’t deny that Y/N was attractive, but he knew she had heard it from many guys. Perhaps she didn’t want someone to view her in a lens that she’s used to the whole world viewing her as. The sultry, sexy popstar whose Playboy photoshoot went viral on every social media platform down to fuckin’ Reddit.

“Who knows with Satoru? His publicist ensures his love life is on lock. But for me, I don’t know either.” He foolishly admits. He grabbed a hand towel, dried his hands with it, and turned to face the hideous cat clock that was ticking with each second.

“You don’t know?” She asked; she stepped in front of him, blocking his view of the clock—but of course, Choso didn’t mind.

Choso sighs and tosses the cloth to the side, “If I admit it, I’ll feel like I’m viewing you in the same lens that every other guy views you as. The sexy pop star who caused a guy to faint when he met you,” Choso chuckles. “Just forget I asked..”

“Hm, you view me as something other than a sexy pop star.” She stepped forward, and Choso could get a whiff of warm vanilla-scented perfume. Her eyes glanced up at him through her lashes, and again, she saw the faint red color stain Choso’s cheeks.

“From this conversation and you ditching a party despite being the main reason everyone came, I can tell that you want to be viewed through a lens other than the sexy popstar,” Choso admits. “And I think that’s why you decided to come with me. You knew I would be able to view you in said lens without trying.”

He couldn’t read her expression, but he could tell just by her taking a step forward, suffocating his personal space, that he was correct. He bites at his lower lip before speaking again, stepping forward also. “If I’m right, selfishly enough—I’ll make you mine right now.”

“Quite bold of you to say Mr. Rockstar because if I remember correctly, in your GQ interview, you don’t do relationships because you hate people being in your business. The world’s most popular rockstar slash alternative musician and the pop’s current it girl being together…everyone will be in our business.”

“Fair point, but I guess that’s a risk I’ll take and many NDAs to give out.”

Choso was always a man to make the first move, but here, the popstar was leaping forward to kiss him. Gosh, he let her. If he could, he’ll let her use him as she pleases. His hand guided her to the top of the counter as he kissed her deeply. Her fingers combed through his dark locks of hair, tugging gently for a response just to slip her tongue into his mouth. She tasted so good. It's like the best bottle of champagne that someone can offer. A moan vibrates from the back of Choso’s throat as the two make out. Tongues taste each other like the last meal you two can have.

When they broke apart, Choso cupped Y/N’s face. His thumb drags alongside the soft flesh of her cheeks. “I don’t think we should take this any further in his fuckin’ onigiri shop—but fuck.” He sighs. “I don’t think I can make it to my place.” His eyes averted behind Y/N at the employee bathroom.

It was hardly used, considering that Wasuke practically ran the shop himself. Usually, it is only used when one of the brothers stops by.

“You can’t be that horny not to wait.” Y/N laughs before she feels Choso collect her hand and press it against his crotch. Her eyes enlarged at what she was feeling.

“Look what you’ve done to me; I can’t wait.” His head fell upon her shoulders, and his words were a stubborn whine.

Y/N pushes him back from in between the space of her thighs, and she hops off the counter and walking towards the bathroom. Like a dog receiving a treat, Choso follows behind Y/N in the bathroom. When the two were in the enclosed space, he turned her around so that she was facing the sink. His hands unzipped the front of her jumpsuit while his lips ghosted over her brown skin. He was nipping at spots on her neck like a hormonal college student.

“If I knew that I was going to be receiving dick from the Choso Kamo, I would have worn something much easier to work around.” She helps him pull the upper part of the jumpsuit down.

Her breast broke out the tight spandex material as soon as it came down, and Choso felt him grow even harder—aching, entirely for her. His hands snaked around the front of her waist to feel inside her nude, seamless panties.

If Choso concentrated hard enough, he could feel his precum stain his bottoms at the feel of how wet she was. His index and middle fingers that strummed countless guitars and rubbed slow circles on her clit. With the mirror that was above the sink, he was able to see her come undone. It was similar to pulling at a loose piece of thread on a piece of clothing and watching it unravel with each pull. Y/N melted in front of him. Her plump lips gasped apart to let out a sweet tune: her moans. With each motion of his million-dollar fingers, she moans louder—this time gasping out his name like a lyric in one of the love songs she’s written.

Before Choso wanted to quicken his teasing, he unbuckled his belt quickly. The sound was like music to Y/N’s ears because she attempted to step out of her jumpsuit, but Choso stopped her with a brief slap on her ass. It took her by shock, but she felt herself grow wet at the feeling of the sting going away.

“Who said you were getting my dick tonight?” He asks as he pushes the jumpsuit down.

“I’m the world’s biggest pop star now, I think I deserve it.” Y/N points out as Choso nips at the tip of her ear.

“And I’m the world’s biggest rockstar, with the current #1 album on the charts. So I think I outrank you at the moment.” He smirks as he’s pulling his boxers down just a bit for his cock to spring out beautifully.

“My tour grossed the highest,” She proudly bragged.

“In your dreams, pop star.” Choso's fingers hook the band of her panties, sliding them down—his hand palms at the fatness of her ass.

Choso could give her what she wanted. Stuff her full with his cock, but she’s been given what she wanted ever since she established herself as this star.

“So, you’re just going to edge the world's most popular pop star on like this?” She questions; a teasing tone drops from her tongue, and her eyes stare at him through the mirror.

“Something like that,” Choso brought his hand up to his mouth, gawking up a fair amount of spit to coat his cock in, and his lips curved into a devious smirk seeing Y/N eagerly wiggle herself further on him. His hardened cock poked her, but the musician had other plans.

Instead of helping slide into Y/N’s cunt, his cock wedged in between her thighs—right above the little bit of space of her panties being pulled down. Which was as lewd as can be simply by if Choso would come, his cum not only splattered upon her thighs but decorated her panties also. With the first rock of his hips, while his cock was between her thighs, the tip of it brushed against Y/N’s folds causing her to moan. The traction causes an incoherent hiss to pass by Choso’s lips as he’s rocking his cock in between her thighs.

“Fuck.” He uttered, realizing that if just thigh fucking Y/N was causing his brain to feel fuzzy like it did when he smoked weed for the first time—how the hell was he going to feel when he finally got the opportunity to be inside her. His fingers dug into the flesh of her waist as he’s thrusting his cock inward and outward of her thighs. Each movement caused her breasts to jiggle salaciously, and that seemed to add to the list of little things that turned him in while being crammed in this bathroom with her.

“This isn’t fair,” Y/N shutters over the lewd sound of Choso’s cock thrusting between her thighs.

Even though she would complain about how he was only getting off at this. That her clit was throbbing and aching for attention as Choso’s cock was between her thighs. He didn’t even acknowledge her response but instead used his feet to kick at her own to bring her thighs together just a bit more. Even brought his cock up a little bit more—finally giving the woman what she wanted. His cock was just inches away from rubbing against her folds that were decorated with her slit—occasionally, the tip of his fat cock bribes against them before he guided it back to its rightful place.

“Fuck,” Choso uttered, bringing her closer, her back now placed upon his broad chest as his hips bulldozed his cock forward.

He was trying too hard to imagine that this is what her pussy would feel like. That the fiery pit that grew at an increasing rate in his ball sack was a feeling you’ll get immediately when you indulge in her cunt. A couple more pumps of his cock in between her thighs, Choso’s cum squirts out the tip of his cock. To add to the mess he made in between her thighs, he’s pumping his cock some more sloppily. His thick ropes of cum decorated her thighs and her underwear, and Choso finally went limp as his face was red like a tomato, and his cock was a sticky mess. He just thigh fucked the world’s most famous pop star at the moment in the bathroom of his brother’s grandfather's Onigiri shop.

He reaches behind him at the paper towel dispenser to help clean her up. Silence overcame the two before Choso tossed the dirty paper towels in the trash. His face was heated from the interactions, and that tint of red still decorated his face shamelessly. His hair fell in his face, and some strands stuck to his forehead due to the sweat on it. He pulled his boxers and pants back up, buckling them immediately.

As the two shameless musicians were awkwardly cleaning themselves up, Choso, being the gentlemen, used a wet paper towel to wipe off Y/N’s thighs, and his phone that was shoved in his back pocket rang. He ignored it as he figured it’d be Yuji urging him to grab something he forgot in the shop. Or Gojo asking him where he ran off to. But instead, his manager was spam-calling him each time he didn’t answer the phone.

“You should answer that; it could be an emergency.” Y/N points out while fixing her clothes. She knew that as soon as she stepped foot in the apartment she was renting out, she would take the longest shower. Even so, she adored the scent of Choso imprinting her skin.

“You really can’t transition off a tour without a scandal. What the hell happened to you were going to spend time with your brothers and lay low.” His manager’s voice yells through the phone, causing him to pull the device away from his ear.

“I don’t know what the hell you're talking about.”

“Answer me this, Choso. Are you with Y/N L/N right now?”

Choso’s eyes look at Y/N, who is applying a coat of clear lip gloss. Her body is leaning slightly to be closer to the mirror above the sink.

“Maybe…” Choso’s voice trails off, expecting the worst.

“Well, the world knows you’re with her right now. I sent your bodyguard and a private car to come pick you guys up immediately. They’re probably already surrounding that freakin’ onigiri shop.”

Choso didn’t let his manager talk his head off any second longer as he ended the call to force a smile on his face that Y/N knew something was wrong. She’s seen the fake smiles from many people that she has lost count. Something happened.

“Well, my little popstar. I think our careers are about to take a turn.”

#choso kamo smut #choso smut #choso kamo x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #anime smut #choso fanfic #black reader #female reader #jjk x black reader #angelshubnetwork #⊹˳⁺ ♡ 𝒻𝒶𝓃𝒻𝒾𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒸𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈

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morganski-19 · 5 months

Text

Steve is hanging out with Robin when he hears a knock at the front door. Robin gives him a concerned look as he leaves the living room to open it, neither of them expecting anyone, and everyone they know has a key.

When he opens the door, a girl he guesses is around Dustin’s age is there, nervously playing with her hands, a backpack loosely thrown over her shoulder. “Hi, sorry to bother you but, do the Harrington’s live here?” she asks shyly.

“Yes, I’m Steve. Who are you?” There is a familiarity to her face that he can’t quite place.

“Steve, right, they said he had a son. I’m uh, my name is Julie. Your dad kinda knew my mom.”

He must have met her at one of his dad’s work events, that has to be why she looks familiar. “Oh ok, did she have to drop something off here or something?”

“Well, kinda. But it’s not what you’re probably expecting.” She pauses looking unsure of what she is going to say next. “Can I- can I come it, you might want to sit down for what I have to say. It’s kind of shocking.”

“I’m not sure, I don’t really know you. Could you tell me who your mom is, maybe I can remember you then.”

She takes a deep breath. “When I said that my mom knew your dad, I didn’t mean from work. Well, I did mean from work but she hasn’t worked for him in over fifteen years, so I doubt you’d remember her. She was his secretary for a while, and they had a very,” she pauses again, looking around to see if anyone is there. “Intimate, relationship.”

The dots clicked immediately in his head, thoughts immediately started to run around about who this girl could really be. He thinks that her offer to sit down was probably necessary. “Yeah, why don’t you come in.”

“Ok.” She steps through the doorway, waiting for him to lead her through the house.

He brings her to the kitchen, motioning for her to sit at the small table. Grabbing a few glasses, he fills them with water and brings them over, placing one in front of her. She thanks him, taking it and gulping it down with shaky hands. The more he looks at her, the more he can’t help but see more and more similarities, just ones that remind him of himself.

“Who was it, Steve,” Robin asks, wandering into the kitchen. “Oh shit, hi.”

“Rob, this is Julie, her mom apparently knew my dad.” Steve makes a motion with his head to indicate how, hoping that she can read it right.

With the way her eyes widen, he can’t help but think that she did. “Oh like, special knew. Like knew knew.”

“Yes,” Julie says weakly. “Yeah, they did.”

“Oh shit,” Robin takes a seat next to Steve, her hand immediately finding his. It brings comfort, reassurance that she’s there. He knew his dad was a piece of crap cheater, his mom certainly made it known during many of their screaming matches. But with the girl staring at him with the same eyes he sees every morning in the mirror, his brain can’t help but jump to the conclusion that she’s, something. And that just makes his chest tighten in anxiety.

“I, uh.” Julie starts, wringing her hand nervously again. “I don’t really know how to say this gently. But, when my mom worked for your dad, they had an affair. It didn’t last that long, but remember when I said my mom stopped working for him like fifteen years ago? It was actually seventeen because that’s when she figured out she was pregnant.”

Steve feels a lump forming in his throat as she nods, trying to take it all in. “With you?” he asks, not knowing how he is even speaking at all right now. Robin squeezes his hand.

Julie gives a small nod, looking down at the table. “Yeah.”

“And my dad is-” he can’t finish the sentence, but it’s answered by her sorry nod. “Holy shit.”

He runs a hand through his hair, trying to wrap his head around everything. This girl, Julie, is his sister. Half-sister, whatever, it doesn’t matter. Robin breaks her contact with him and goes to rub his back instead. His head falls into his hands propped up on the table and he just focuses on breathing.

“Steve, you ok?” Robin’s voice soothes him a little bit, but when your world just gets shattered, there’s not much that can be done to help completely.

“I knew he cheated. I knew that, accepted that. It’s why my mom followed him around on all his trips. But he- he had a kid, and just hid it.”

“I’m sorry. I know this is a lot to take in, I have proof if you want to see it.”

Steve looks at Robin, asking her what to do with his eyes. She shrugs, her way of saying that it couldn’t hurt. Probably is better that they have proof anyway, make sure this is legit. He nods, unable to say anything.

“Could we see it? Just to double-check everything,” Robin asks for him. God he’s so happy that she’s here

Julie ruffles around in her backpack, random clothes peeping out as she pulls out a file. She opens it, pulling out two pieces of paper before going in again and pulling out what looks like a school ID. “Here’s my birth certificate and the paternity test. And my ID with my picture on it, so you know it’s me.”

The first thing he sees is his father’s name on the test results, followed by the line saying his relation to Julie is undeniable. That he was undeniably the father. The birth certificate only has the signature of her mother and the doctor, but the father’s name is absent. He ditched them, probably made her mom prove that this kid was his, and then just paid them to shut them up. His mom would never know, he would never know, and they never had access to any of his records.

Julie Rebecca Lawson, born January 28, 1970. He was three when she was born. He’s had a sibling this whole time, and he didn’t even know it.

“Does your mom know you’re here?” Robin asks, softly.

Julie’s face visibly falls as she rapidly blinks away some tears. “She- she died two weeks ago. Car accident.”

“I’m so sorry, Julie,” Robin reaches across to comfort her, but the hand she was going to grab gets pulled away. “Whoever is watching you then, do they know where you are?”

She sniffles. “I’ve been staying with a foster family while they find a permanent placement. They don’t really care where I am. My caseworkers were trying to find some family, but my grandparents are long gone and my mom’s sister is in no place to take in a kid. So they were looking on my dad’s side.” She says the word dad as if they don’t fit right in her mouth.

“I didn’t come here looking for a place to say,” she continues. “Right before my mom passed, she finally told me about my dad. How he never wanted anything to do with me because he had a big reputation and another family. It was supposed to be a secret, but the more I thought about it, I couldn’t help but think that you had a right to know. And then since she-, since I needed a place to stay, it was only a matter of time before you found out. I knew he was out of town so I thought it might be better to say it myself. Now I’m not so sure that was such a great idea.”

“No,” Steve finally says. “I’m, I’m glad you told me. You’re right, we, me and my mom, had a right to know. So, thank you. Rob, could I talk to you for a minute?”

She stands. “Yeah. We’ll be right back, ok Julie.”

Julie says a soft reply as Robin leads Steve to the living room. She has shock in her eyes, he’s sure he does too. “I don’t know what to do, Rob.”

“How could you? You just found out that your dad had another kid. With another woman. And then hid it from you. How are you supposed to cope with that information?”

“I don’t know. I have no clue what to do from here but I can’t help but. Shit Rob, I want to help her.”

“Steve, you don’t know her, at all. She just spawned on your doorstep not even an hour ago and just dropped the biggest bombshell on you since the, you know what. I get that you want to help her, I do. Shit, I do too. But I’m just asking that you take a step back and think about this.”

Steve crosses his arms, pulling his eyebrows together. The decision was pretty much made in his mind, but she was right. “What if she stays the night, we sleep on this and get to know her more tomorrow. Then we can go from there.”

“Ok,” she puts a hand on Steve’s arm. “That’s a good plan.”

Robin steps forward, pulling him into a hug before they walk back into the kitchen. Julie looks back up at them, uncertainty filling her face. It reminds him so much of himself it sort of hurts. “Julie, you can stay the night, if you want to. That way tomorrow we can talk some more, and get to know each other, figure out what to do about this. But I can drive you back to the house you’re staying at if you’d like.”

“Could I stay here, I really don’t like it there.”

“Come on, I’ll show you the guest room.”

If this gets enough interest, I might make this into a whole fic of its own. So let me know if this interests you at all. Edit: This fic is now happening. I'm creating a tag list so if you'd like to be added to it, please respond under this post (so I can keep track of it better)

Edit 2: The fill part one is now posted here

#stranger things #steve harrington #robin buckley #original character #steve has a sibling #he just didn't know it #steddie #eddie will be in this too #julie would have lived in the same trailer park so they were neighbors #it would be post season 4 #about a year later #so she's the same age as the party pretty much

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1d1195 · 10 days

Text

Ding - Round 2

Read Ding here | ~6.2 k words

WARNING/spoiler there's a scummy guy in this part that tries to be forceful with our MC to go with him back to his place when she doesn't want to. Nothing will happen and nothing will be described in detail but be kind to your mind and heart ♥, trauma, anxiety, pining, and fluff.

From me: I actually know VERY little about boxing and even less about throwing a punch. I do however feel I'm well-versed in sprinkles so do with that what you will. Some parts of this got a little away from me again. I hope you like it 💕

Summary: Harry and Cupcake are both really busy and haven't seen each other in two months. But when Cupcake gets into trouble, she has no choice but to run into Harry.

Harry learned to fight when he was ten years old. He didn’t have his dad around much to teach him. Mum and Gemma may as well have been pacifists and as such, they weren’t much help when it came to defending himself. Harry watched his little girl friends get teased by boys. The same boys that told him he was weird for liking girls when they had cooties. Even if he didn’t (always) like them like that and was just merely defending them. Mum and Gemma may have been pacifists, but they taught Harry to be a respectful young boy. Especially toward girls.

One too many mouthfuls of sand at recess was enough to make him finally do something about it. He was angry. Angry because the girls didn’t like him because he was a boy (although they tolerated him since he was protecting them). Angry none of the boys in his class wanted to be friends with him because he was being nice to girls filled with cooties. Angry that he didn’t have a dad to teach him how to be a boy’s boy.

For a ten-year-old, he was really angry.

Mum took him to a gym—an introductory class to kickboxing. Just to get some of his anger out in an appropriate manner (and so he wouldn’t be sent to the principal’s office during recess again). Harry took a liking to the punching bag. He cried the first time he used it with the help of an older kid who was helping him learn to punch the right way. The poor teen watching him get so frustrated that his punches and kicks weren’t landing right—even though it was his very first time throwing a punch—saw something in him. Alerted his boss, encouraged Harry, worked with Harry every time he came in. He was a great mentor and even though he left only a couple years after meeting Harry to go to university and all that, Harry was forever grateful.

His first amateur match was at fifteen. Then there were only ten rounds at most, and he won by a landslide in five. By then he met Louis—someone who saw the same thing that teen kid saw in him and offered to be his manager. It wasn’t anything serious at the time. Harry was still in school and only using his time after school to get better at boxing. Louis was only a few years ahead but knew enough to help him be great.

By the time he turned eighteen, he had won three state-titles and people were watching him. At least in a way that those who cared about boxing did. Throughout university he trained and got better and won more and more.

Now Harry was twenty-five. He had to be nearing at least a hundred thousand punches since he was ten—eitherthrowing them at someone or at least in training against the punching bag he loved so much. Maybe more. He couldn’t even begin to think or count how he would figure out that number. Harry’s whole life was training, working, and fighting.

The only joys he had outside of boxing were his car and the sweet little niece that Gemma had kindly brought into his life—but that was only a recent change.

Only one other very recent change had left him a bit tongue-tied and flustered. Harry didn’t get flustered. Not since he was ten and knew he could beat the crap out of someone. There was no ringing bell to prepare him to make eye contact with a complete stranger and just feel like he had never ever felt before.

Was it love? Who could say, really. Harry had never loved anyone in his life that wasn’t his family or his friends. It made his stomach flutter like the first time he fought in a ring for something other than a trophy. A mere two hundred dollars on the line, all to get punched a whole bunch of times. Now he was still getting punched a few times over for a decent amount of money, but the thought of that pretty girl and her sprinkles made him unbelievably excited. Knowing she was there really made him feel different.

He knew next to nothing about her, but he was certain he was going to fall for her given half a chance. Even if she gave him a half a chance—a quarter!—he would do everything he could to have her in his life. If anyone else had damaged his car, he might have lost his shit, but there was something about her kind face, her doe-eyed expression in the rainy lamplight that made him rethink his entire life in the span of twenty seconds.

But whatever it was that he felt for her, he knew it started with her ringside. Beside his best friend waiting for the end of the fight that never seemed to end.

Normally, Harry’s matches finished in an average of nine rounds. But he was seated in the corner, sipping water like a hamster from the bottle, while Louis put Vaseline on his face where the cut on his eyebrow split between the tenth and the eleventh. “How you doing?”

“Is she impressed?” He asked.

“Who?”

“Cupcake. She’s sitting next t’Niall,” he was breathing heavy. Good as he was, it took a lot of energy to punch someone for a half hour as it was.

“Who?” Louis repeated, then thought better of it. He shook his head in frustration. “Can you focus on what you’re doing, Harold?!”

Louis didn’t get it. Harry rolled his eyes and sighed. To be fair, she was probably the reason it was taking longer than normal. Not that he minded. As long as she was impressed by the end, of course. Harry was on his feet, shadowboxing briefly with Louis, that boyish smile on his face. “What the fuck is your issue?” Louis hissed at him. “You’re acting like a lunatic!”

It seemed like a cliché to say he was in love, so he refrained from doing so. He felt it spared Louis further frustration as well. Cupcake, Cupcake, Cupcake. It was the only thing his brain could think. Fortunately, the bell rang, signaling the beginning of the next round and knocked a bit of the sense back in his head that had floated away from him on the thoughts of the pretty girl nearby.

His opponent was just as tired (although Harry believed his opponent was more so) as himself. He could see the exhaustion setting in as he held his gloves up near his face blocking a few jabs Harry threw to get the excitement of the new round going. He was waiting, searching, nearly taunting for a window of opportunity. Right as his opponent swung aiming for his face, Harry dodged his punch; smirking as he did. A blinding weak spot, his guard was down for only a fraction of a second but that was all Harry needed.

Poor guy didn’t stand a chance.

Ding.

Harry looked like he was going to fall asleep sitting there in the bakery kitchen. He was a bit cut up; his eyebrow, the corner of his mouth, and his cheekbone had little cuts. Soothed with Vaseline, but it didn’t seem to bother him. His eyes were droopy. “Is Niall still around to drive you home?” She asked.

He shook his head. “I can drive,” he murmured.

He wasn’t really looking at her, but her look and tone screamed skeptical. “You look too tired to drive.”

“Mm,” he hummed. She was busy bustling back and forth through the kitchen. Cupcakes were in the oven. She only made a dozen, but Harry didn’t seem to notice it was a small amount. He was sitting at the big table in the middle of the kitchen. A seat dragged in from the office. She had her laptop open in her office running the report she needed while Harry held his head propped in one hand. She busied herself with prepping dough for scones and pastries while Harry tried not to loll off to sleep. She smirked at him.

“I could call you an Uber if you wanted,” she offered. “You don’t need to stay with me.”

His eyes were hardly open. “I’ll get a second wind in a minute,” he yawned. “S’jus’ the adrenaline wearing off,” he explained.

“Does that hurt?” She asked gesturing to the cuts on his (otherwise really perfect) face.

He shook his head. “Stings a little.”

“Will you be sore tomorrow?”

“A little. Stiff really... Why y’want t’give me a massage, kitten?” He smiled flirtatiously. Maybe she should have felt uncomfortable, alone with a man she only just met. But honestly, she thought Niall might be her new best friend and if Niall could vouch for Harry, then she wasn’t all that worried about him. Regardless of him knocking out his opponent with one punch. Truthfully, it was nice of her to walk her to the bakery. It was later than she expected and while the town they lived in was pretty safe, the college safety tips of never walking alone flooded her mind each time she did walk alone. She blushed at his forward assumption, but fortunately she was prepping something and stuffing it in the fridge, so he didn’t get to see. Plus, his exhaustion probably made him even flirtier.

“Thanks for being m’good luck charm, Cupcake,” he murmured sleepily.

“I didn’t know you didn’t need one.”

“Can never have too much luck.”

She smiled, continuing her prepping quietly. Harry watched her for a while. Eventually, his arm dropped to the table, and he rested his head on it. After another moment, a soft snore escaped his lips, and she smiled a little brighter. Only for herself, really, since Harry was asleep. She continued working. She was used to late nights. Maybe he really was going to get a second wind—honestly, she couldn’t imagine boxing and punching someone for almost forty-five minutes with only one-minute breaks in between rounds. Sometimes while she was baking, she would try to do other tasks while the timer counted down to take the treats out of the oven. It always surprised her how long and how short a minute could feel in the same breath.

But while she worked, she was mindful to not make too many loud noises. Harry needed sleep it seemed. She prepped for nearly an hour while waiting for the cupcakes to cool long enough to scoop out the middle and fed the sugary raspberry filling into the empty space. Frosting a dozen cupcakes took all but ten minutes then she packaged them in two half-dozen plastic containers with A Pinch of Sprinkles label taping it shut. Gently, she put her hand on his upper arm, and she really shouldn’t have been so surprised by how taut his bicep was beneath her hand, but she was. He was unbelievably strong, and she was in slight awe and shock of touching him—and he wasn’t even flexing. But rather than be creepy, she gave him a gentle shake. “Hey, Harry... Uh...it’s late. I’m gonna get going,” her voice was soft.

Harry startled almost jumping out of his seat and rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms. “Sorry, sorry. Wow,” he turned his neck to the left and then right. “M’sorry I dozed off there.”

She shrugged. “Probably needed it,” she assured him with a gentle smile. She pushed the dozen cupcakes forward, across the table. “For you.”

He blinked then looked up at her. “Did you make these for—”

“Well, yes, I made them. You were unbelievably kind to me even though I dented Clay. Plus, you won so it’s like a job well done, you know?”

“You made me cupcakes,” he repeated, his gaze unmoving from her face.

“We really need to work out this whole repeating what the other one says thing,” she felt her cheeks warm as he stared at her, but she smiled, only feeling slightly awkward.

He turned his attention to the two plastic boxes and tilted his head at them. They were identical. His fascination with her precision was immense. “What kind are they?”

“The raspberry filled ones. You said you liked them.”

His gaze went right back to her, and he felt hungry, but not for cupcakes.

Well, at least not the baked good kind of cupcake.

“Thank you, Cupcake. That was sweet of you. I hope it wasn’t too much trouble.”

Her smile seemed to transcend to a feeling of relief. “Not even a little...um... I just have to grab a couple things. Would you... mind walking me to my car? Unless you need to leave right now. I know it’s crazy late. I’ll be okay. I walk to my car on my own usually but it’s always a little creepy. But I feel bad I made you—”

“’Course m’gonna walk you t’your car,” he rolled his eyes. “Besides I don’t want you t’ding Clay again,” he winked to ensure she knew he was kidding. Because yes, he loved his car.

But rapidly, when it came to her, the car didn’t matter in the slightest.

She hadn’t seen Harry in two months.

It wasn’t like she was avoiding him. Part of her knew he was a mere social media friend request away. In fact, she was trying her hardest to not stare at the pictures of him on social media, the PR plug for his matches, and all the things that she saw Niall, Louis, and all his other friends shared. But she didn’t want to come off too forward. It seemed weird to be so into a man she only talked to for no longer than ten minutes total.

Besides...she had her routines. Work, family, and more work.

Also, if Harry was really infatuated with her the way Niall alluded to, he knew where her bakery was—he easily could come and find her here. But she did notice there was a tag to her shop on Instagram with raspberry filled cupcakes in the picture. (All it would take is for her to press the Follow button and wait.) While she didn’t know Harry all that well, she assumed he was probably just as busy. Her brief cyber-stalking showed that Harry was often at the gym—although she wasn’t sure which one. He was also an amazing uncle. That much was clear. It warmed her heart, and she would never want to tear Harry away from that kind of time. Family was extremely important to her. She wholeheartedly understood how much his free time was probably monopolized by the little baby.

But it was so strange that she didn’t know him yet there was some part of her that wanted to see him. It was bizarre. She never got all up and arms about a guy. There was work and there was her family. That was it. That was all she could afford to balance. She didn’t need a guy to mess with her routines or upset the balance of her life.

However, every time she walked alone to her car at night now, she wished that Harry was with her to assure her safety—even though she had done it hundreds of times before. The night they met, he walked her in silence, opened her door and made sure she was safely tucked inside. “Good night, Cupcake,” he smiled almost dreamily.

“Good night, Harry. Congratulations,” she responded with a smile too.

Harry’s smile grew and he looked away briefly before patted the top of her car and turned to Clay, put his cupcakes on the passenger seat and moved to the driver’s side. He gave her a wave and pulled out of his parking spot.

It was two months ago.

But after just one month, it was hard to deny she didn’t miss him.

That had to mean something. Just one brief night—not even a date. Most of that night was spent with Harry in the ring or asleep at her kitchen table. Hell, she got to know Niall more that night. But it was Harry’s smile that plagued her thought—crooked and perfect. The way his eyes glittered as he convinced her to follow him with a picture of his niece.

“Are you baking something in here or burning in here?” Maeve asked.

Maeve was her best employee—her right hand nearly every day. More importantly, her best friend. Shaking her head of the thoughts surrounding Harry, she sighed and turned to the oven where her fudge brownies were surely overdone. “Shit,” she whispered.

“I don’t think you’ve ever burned anything. Are you okay?” Maeve asked gently. It was a loaded question. It took a lot of time to dig the answer out of her friend, but Maeve did. She knew asking if she was okay was probably the wrong thing to say.

But if it was, she didn’t mind. Of course she didn’t. Her very best friend was sweeter than all the treats in the display case. “Just a little distracted,” she mumbled grabbing the tray and setting it in the sink to cool off (and hopefully so she didn’t have to scrape the bottom of the tray later).

“Harry on your brain?” Maeve giggled.

She rolled her eyes but felt the way her cheeks warmed at Maeve’s (correct) assumption. Maeve was shocked to learn that her strong-willed friend was convinced by a stranger to go see a boxing match. She couldn’t believe it. Granted, once she saw the picture of Harry, she couldn’t disagree. I think I would let him punch me in the face if he wanted to.

She decided keeping Maeve as far away from Harry as possible was probably necessary.

Rarely did she and Maeve work together. As her best employee and best friend, it was like asking her to hold her child when Maeve was on shift. There was no one she trusted more. So, when Maeve wasn’t there, she often was and vice versa. But every so often, usually at the shift change, Maeve got to see her best friend in her element. “Well, the good news is, you can go think of him at home,” she winked at her.

She didn’t even look at her. “You’re disgusting,” she deadpanned.

Maeve snorted. “That’s not even what I was insinuating. Your mind went directly to the gutter. Good for you. I bet he thinks about you while he’s doing it too.”

“Jesus Christ,” she was blushing brightly now. “I just want to fix the display case and then I’ll go.”

“Any fun plans for tonight?”

She hesitated briefly. “Uh yeah...actually. I have a date,” she mumbled.

“Oh!” It was silent for a long beat. Rarely did she go on dates. There were only a few since she moved into town three years ago. Mostly because the bakery took up so much of her free time. The remaining bit of time she had and didn’t go on dates was because of the guilt she felt. Maeve’s surprise was palpable. It made her cheeks turn pink and she bit the inside of her cheek. “Good,” Maeve smiled encouragingly. “Online?” She asked.

She nodded. “We’ve been messaging back and forth for like...” she shrugged. “Two weeks.”

“Are you excited?”

No. “Yes,” she sighed softly. “Been a while,” she smirked. There was a huge part of her brain that told her she didn’t want to go because it wasn’t Harry. It was like a neon sign had been posted in her frontal lobe reminding her that it was pointless to even consider this date. She should have just requested to follow Harry and be done with it—he would probably drop everything if she asked him on a date. “Just...nervous.”

“It’ll be good!” Maeve said reassuringly. “Share your location with me and text me when you get to where you’re sleeping,” she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

“I will be sleeping at home,” she promised snorting through her laugh at her best friend.

Maeve smiled heading to the front and leaving her to finish with her burned brownies.

The front of the bakery was dark in color; she was aiming for warmth. The floors and baseboards were dark walnut brown. It contrasted sharply with the wall she wall-papered by hand with a white and brown marble pattern behind the display cases. It made the black chalkboard menus with the same walnut brown frames stand out. The lights were always set to dim when they were on. Her goal was to recreate the feeling of her childhood home—particularly the den where her father set up the most beautiful Christmases. The bakery lacked a fireplace (she joked with Maeve that it was an oven or a fireplace, and the oven did a better job at cooking croissants evenly).

The front of the bakery wasn’t massive. There were five little tables to sit and enjoy their treats if people wanted but it was really a grab and go kind of place. The back had more treats stored so the main room didn’t look overwhelming. The front display cases still contained more treats than anyone could think of eating. I wish I could buy one of everything was heard frequently from the line. Eventually she wanted to invest in coffee but for the time being she liked just her treats and was happy to recommend the coffee place down the road. If she ever got a hold of more space, then she would consider buying all the machines for coffee.

The bakery was honestly warmest when it was rainy. Which was frequent. She was reorganizing the main cupcake display, a tower of three tiers with one of each type of cupcake she made. The raspberry filled cupcake was the one that had been on top for the last two months. Each time it was bought, she replaced it with another. While people raved about her brownies, cakes, and even the croissants, it was the cupcakes that people came for; and so, she took care of the display as much as possible.

“Which one do you recommend?” She turned to the voice and saw a mom and little girl waiting patiently. She smiled fondly.

“Raspberry filled,” she pulled it from the top tier and handed it over. “Try it,” she offered.

“Oh, we don’t want to get you in trouble,” the mom said quickly while her daughter grabbed for it almost immediately.

She laughed. “Don’t worry, I know the owner,” she promised. “Maeve! I’m leaving!” She called but was delighted by the little girl’s approval. Silence, cake and filling on her cheeks immediately, and a delightful look in her eye.

“Have fun!” She called back.

“Enjoy the cupcakes. I also like the lemon vanilla ones.”

“I think raspberry filled is the winner,” the mom smiled.

She nodded, unable to keep herself from grinning back. “A fan favorite.”

She should have stayed home. The bad weather should have been an omen. But maybe it wouldn’t have been because she met Harry in bad weather, and everything was fine that night. It soured her mood and made her feel infinitely worse to think about the comparison.

I’m home. Not a great date. I’ll tell you later. She wished she had gone to Maeve’s. Maybe she would have doted on her. But she didn’t want to fall apart the way she planned on in front of her.

:( sorry babe. Sleep tight. Talk to you tomorrow :(

She locked her apartment door and checked at least fifty times that it was truly locked before she moved to her bathroom. Her heart was still in her throat and her eyes felt raw with tears. Maybe she was overreacting.

No.

The rational part of her brain reasoned against her handwaving casualness. She had good instincts. Obviously. If this same situation happened with Harry, then maybe she would have considered it her own poor judgment. It was more reason that someone as terrifying as Harry could have be sweet as her cupcakes that it was her good judgment that helped her get out of there tonight.

She hurried to get out of her clothes. Part of her considered throwing them away. She didn’t want them any longer. She wasn’t sure she would ever wear them again. She turned the shower on as hot as she could stand it and pushed it a little further.

He didn’t hurt her physically. He tried. It was obvious his intent was to force her into the car... or worse. Which was disgusting in its own right. Until that moment in the dark, rainy parking lot, it was almost identical to her moment with Harry. But it wasn’t. Harry didn’t make her feel unsafe. Harry didn’t make her feel threatened. Harry gave her an out even though he wanted to hang out with her. She knew she could leave at any moment and Harry wouldn’t have blamed her.

She rubbed her arm so hard with her loofa in the shower stream it burned for a new reason. Tears blurred her vision and she felt so stupid. So completely idiotic. How could she let it get that far? That was so dangerous. So close she could have been hurt in so many ways that she didn’t want to think about, ever again. She closed her eyes and let the water wash the night away, feeling completely alone and dreadful.

She never wanted to date again.

She finished her shower, sniffles plaguing her, and she got into her comfiest pajamas. Her heart was still beating too fast as she crawled under the covers. She felt so ashamed. It felt like her fault. All of it.

There was a tiny rattling in her brain that Harry could have prevented it all. She should have just requested Harry on social media when she met him. If she had, she would have had his number by then. He would have helped her for sure.

Without thinking, she scrolled on her apps, and clicked on the various follow buttons. Every platform she could think of to request his social media friendship—looking like a lunatic be damned. Almost everything had a phone call button now, she could use it as backup if she needed. For good measure she requested Niall too. It was nearing midnight, and she couldn’t bring herself to care. She was scared. Nervous. Heartbroken.

Yet, within moments, Harry returned the request along with a direct message in her inbox.

Thinking of me at midnight, hmm? 😉

She snorted despite her uneasiness. One sentence and she melted. But she couldn’t let him know that. 🙄 it was nice while it lasted. Just going to unfollow you...

Aw, c’mon Cupcake 🙁

Oh alright... No, not really... just can’t sleep. Popped up on my people you may know while scrolling. It wasn’t a complete lie, and she was glad she wasn’t having a phone call. He would have heard her sniffles and then she wasn’t sure she would have been able to stop herself from inviting a total stranger over. Right now, she didn’t trust her judgment fully.

Been dying to press that Follow button, Cupcake. Didn’t want to come on too strong after that first night.

She couldn’t help but smile. The contrast between the night she met Harry, and her present night made her sad but relieved at the same time. I see you enjoyed the cupcakes.

Louis made me run laps for two hours because of you. I ate all twelve in less than 72 hours. Do you put drugs in those? They’re addicting.

Lol, no drugs. Well... sugar. So, pick your poison I guess, right? 😇

Well, thank you, Cupcake. That was delicious. I hope you liked the match too. We didn’t get to talk much. I know I fell asleep 🤦‍♂️ I was really happy you were there.

Her heart felt so warm already. Despite how much she didn’t want it to. Thank you for inviting me. Because she was nothing if not polite. It was really exciting! I don’t know much about boxing. But it’s obvious you’re very good—not that you need me to tell you that. Were you really going to make me look like an idiot and not tell me you were undefeated?

You’ll make me blush, Cupcake. Didn’t think you’d come with me if you knew.

Sneaky... 👀

Just... wanted you there, kitten. I promise. Nothing more... I know I came off a little too strong and I know I was a little...pushy. I would have let you go to your store if you really wanted to... But...

The three dots on his message disappeared and reappeared a few times over.It was cute to imagine him holding his phone thinking about what to type, erasing it, typing it again.

I can’t explain it, Cupcake. I’ve been going CRAZY these last two months. Niall’s calling me a stalker and I haven’t even SEEN you. The sentiment doesn’t give her any bad feelings. Because despite how much she wanted to be guarded, especially after her evening, she couldn’t help but believe him. Trust him, implicitly.

I swear something in the universe pulled me to you... I woke up just in time to see you blowing up my phone tonight 😍😍

She snorted and felt her body warm with his kindness, his gentle adoration through her phone no less. You’re insane, Harry Styles.

About you 😍

Oh my God... Now she really was blushing, but she couldn’t help but notice she felt so much better chatting with him. Well... we can talk tomorrow if you want.

Oh?

I’m assuming you’re tired and I’ve already hogged more than enough of your time at midnight, as you pointed out.

Oh, no.

No way, Cupcake. I’ll stay up all night to talk with you ❤

Her heart felt so heavy. It was unfair. How could she be so stupid? Her dad would have killed her for being so naïve. It was his worst fear while she was growing up. It was everything he always talked her through when she was going through puberty and telling her about boys teasing her. Her dad reminded her constantly that a man has no right to make her feel scared or fragile.

But she could feel his grip on her arm trying to coerce her back into his car. She shook her head of the thoughts, refusing to let him poison any more of her time than he had. She was talking to Harry. She was okay. It was alright. It didn’t happen. She got in an Uber, and she’ll never see him again.

Harry was talking to her. Harry made her feel safe. Harry didn’t make her stomach unsettled with a bad gut feeling. Here’s my phone number if you want it.

Within moments, she had a new text message alert. This is better than an undefeated record 😍

The following morning, she felt less terrible about herself and her stupidity, but she never wanted to feel that way again. She was also so tired from texting with Harry for hours. It was nearly three in the morning catching up on all the things he did in the past two months before she wished him a good night. There wasn’t much to report about their lives. They both seemed to be workaholics, but he did offer her some really cute baby pictures of his niece (and a pretty cute picture of Niall falling asleep on Harry’s couch after an intense workout).

While she sipped her coffee—staving off the sleepiness, she Googled self-defense classes. Her dad would have approved. He wanted her to do it back when she was in college, but she refused for whatever reason. She regretted that too.

It was telling that she debated whether she was overreacting for several minutes. If she was overreacting, she would have brushed off the idea of self-defense classes like she did in college. But this wasn’t something to overreact about, right? Before she could overthink it any longer, she paid for the class. Honestly, in that parking lot she was smart to do this. Worst case scenario, for one reason or another, it was the smart decision.

She cycled through the next stage of grief feeling angry and bitter that he made her feel this way. She was incredibly lucky it was raining and slippery and she managed to get away from him in the chilly spring air. He left her so rattled. She was defenseless, so a class was needed.

God, she missed her dad.

Fuck, she missed Harry.

She never wanted to feel that helpless again.

With the class paid for, she put an apron around her waist and headed to the front of A Pinch of Sprinkles and turned the closed sign to open.

The following Monday, after a full day of flour, sugar, and plenty of customers, she headed to the gym.

It felt awkward. She hadn’t been to a gym since her college days, and she was already frustrated from her horrific night out. She and Maeve told each other they would go together but they were terrible influences on one another and opted for shopping trips with the promise they would pretend their shopping bags were dumbbells.

When she arrived, she headed to the front desk and introduced herself. She even admitted she felt awkward and the woman behind the desk smiled encouragingly. “I’m Sarah. Let me show you around,” she came from behind the desk and headed toward the side room. “It’s safe here,” she assured her, like she knew. The assurance made her throat tight with emotion and she nodded stoically. “This is the locker room; you can change in here and you can leave your stuff locked up or in the front cubbies and I can watch it. Whatever makes you more comfortable,” she smiled kindly and glanced her up and down briefly. “Do you own that bakery downtown?”

She smiled and nodded, looking at the flour handprint on the thigh of her pants. “Thought I got all the flour off,” she brushed at it with a chuckle. “Yes, I do.”

“My husband is going to think I met a celebrity today,” she laughed. “We love your blueberry scones. They taste like heaven.”

“Aw, thank you so much, that’s so kind. I’ll bring some next time,” she promised.

“Oh stop, I’ll divorce him,” she laughed and headed back for the front desk.

She quickly changed, feeling safe and relieved once more. She brought her belongings to the front and sat in one of the seats across from Sarah’s desk. “Kickboxing is just wrapping up and your instructors will be right over,” there was a group of several other women milling about. Obviously, they at least knew how to be in a gym by themselves. A few came as a small group. Maybe she should have brought Maeve.

While waiting, she scrolled through emails from her landlord, her college alma mater group, and all the coupons she had ever subscribed to. “I have got to unsubscribe,” she murmured to herself. She scrolled through photos of the beautiful little area she lived in now, and as sad as it was to get here, it was nice. Her shop was nice. Despite how scared she was over the weekend, things were good.

The only thing that wasn’t nice was that stupid, awful man.

“Holy shit, he’s hot,” she heard someone whisper. It was peripheral. She didn’t even register it really because she was sending Maeve a picture of the sale that was happening at their favorite clothing store on Thursday. If she paid attention, she might have noticed sooner.

“Ladies, self-defense class, this way please!” The voice was familiar, but she couldn’t place it. Maeve sent about ten heart eyes to her, and she smiled, stuffed her phone in her bag, and waved to Sarah.

“Blueberry scones,” she repeated with a firm nod and followed the line of women. She sipped from her water taking in the banners around the gym and realized too late why Louis’ voice sounded so familiar.

He stood at the front of the room, along with another familiar face.

“Oh shit,” she whispered to herself and turned immediately back toward the desk.

She bumped into another woman who steadied her and kindly looked her over. “Sorry—are you alright?” she was nearly motherly in her demeanor and her head felt woozy. She couldn’t do this. Harry would know.

Why was Harry attending her self-defense class?

“Yes, yes, sorry,” she shook her head. “Wrong—”

“Hey,” Harry’s voice was right there. She stepped out of the room trying to get more air to her lungs and head.He wasn’t attending. He was teaching. This was his gym. The boxing rings in the main room should have been a clue. The sound of Louis’ voice. Oh, you stupid idiot, her brain scolded.

“Cupcake?” Her head responded to the nickname instinctively. Harry’s suspicious green eyes gazed back at her. “What are you doing here?”

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#harry #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles angst #harry styles blurbs #harry styles imagines #harry styles x y/n #one direction #one direction writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #ding

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iisasarcasticlittleshite · 11 months

Text

The First Man

In most situations, when shit hits the fan, it's Lucifer you call. Lucifer the oldest, Lucifer who knows what to do and how to do it, Lucifer who thinks clearly and rationally in any situation.

Except, when it comes to MC.

When MC first arrived, half of what they did either confused or terrified some poor demon or angel. They weren't used to a human who hasn't been immersed in magic and demons and angels for years. Solomon was not a good standard to start with, everyone found that out the hard way.

MC takes in the world with wonder and without restraint. When that lack of restraint gets them in trouble, it's not Lucifer they call.

It's Mammon.

Mammon's the one Asmodeus calls when MC wanders off during a shopping trip and he can't get hold of them. He's the one Levi calls when MC drops suddenly off a call while walking home, the one Solomon calls when MC fails to arrive on time to an appointment.

It's become a source of...pride, for the second born, no matter how much everyone may call him scummy, or unreliable, or irresponsible, when it comes to the human, his human, everyone is second to him.

Even after MC forged pacts with each of his brothers, even after Lucifer's pact-mark painted their skin, still people looked to him, now it's for other reasons.

MC forgot their homework? He knows where they keep it.

Satan wants to buy them a suit for Diavolo's next fancy shindig? Mammon knows their exact size in every store they like.

Barbatos wants to surprise them with dinner after a rough week? Mammon knows their comfort foods and their current cravings.

No one knows his human better than he does, Mammon tells himself that whenever doubts creep in, he's reminded of it every time they smile at him, every time MC calls him their partner in crime.

Still, when his phone lights up with his older brother's name, he's expecting everything but what came next.

"MC has had an anxiety attack." Lucifer's calming drawl betrays the urgency of the situation. "I have brought them to the meeting room. They are staring off into space...I do not know what to do."

Mammon is off at a ground-eating pace immediately, pushing past demons in the bustling halls of RAD. It's the middle of the day, after all.

"I'm on m'way, just keep 'em somewhere quiet. They've been havin' a bad week for that anxiety crap."

"They appeared calm this morning."

Mammon chuckled sadly. "Yeah, I know."

"I see...I will wait here. Do not be long."

The call fell silent, and Mammon broke into a run, shoving people aside if he had too until he burst into the meeting room, finding MC sat in his usual seat at the table, curled up with their chin resting on their knees, staring off into nothing with glassy eyes.

Lucifer stands in unusual insecurity beside them, shoulders sagging in relief as soon as Mammon enters the room.

It wouldn't hit Mammon until much, much later, how much of a big deal it is that LUCIFER, called him, called him for help.

He couldn't think about that now, right now, he quietly slid into the seat beside his human, gently brushing the hair away from their forehead and watching their eyes slowly focus in on him.

"Hey human. Need a break?"

MC blinked, nodding slowly as they leaned into him. Non-verbal.

Mammon didn't make them speak, merely held out his hands and let them cling to his arm while he cast Lucifer a meaningful look. The eldest smiled gratefully.

MC shut their eyes, pressed their head against Mammon's shoulder and let him lead them home.

MC likes to do things with their hands when their anxious, once back in the safety of their room, they curl up around a colouring book, Mammon always close by if they need anything.

"Lucifer was worried." MC muttered, leaning into the demon's side was they cradled the hard-cover book against their knees.

"He'll live." Mammon whispered, reassuringly running his fingers through their hair. "Wanna tell me what's been on ye're mind?"

MC's eyes didn't wander from what their hands are doing, even as they softly share whatever comes to mind, talking without a filter. They don't need one, not with Mammon. He'll listen to whatever they have to say without judgement, always.

He can always be found, loyally at their side when they need him most.

#fluff #obey me fluff #obey me mammon #mammon x mc #obey me x mc #obey me angst #obey me #om mammon

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amsgrey · 1 year

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Useful Skills

Shadow Summoner! Fem Reader x Kaz Brekker

SPOILERS for Wylans story arc and season two of shadow and bone.

Slow Burn with Kaz because he deserves someone willing to go his pace.

Synopsis: Kaz needs new blood and it comes in the form of Wylan's childhood best friend. A powerful Grisha.

warnings: angst, I did my best to be accurate to Kaz but show Kaz is a little different from Book Kaz so I'm still learning, general angsty crap, and mention of the reader being related to the darkling (trying to make it a little accurate to the books/show)

You had known Wylan Van Eck for almost 8 years, your mother was a maid in his house. You and your mother lived in the servant's quarters on the Van Eck property, meaning you spent almost all your time around him and his family. You never went to a proper school, your mother didn't want you to when you lived in Ravka in case the Grisha testers came. She kept your abilities hidden until you moved to Ketterdam where Grisha testers wouldn't find you.

Your mother died a few years ago, and you left the Van Eck house and found work as a server in a Pub. It was not a job you were happy with but it kept a roof over your head so you would suffer through it for now. You lost touch with Wylan until one day when he entered the pub with three other people.

You almost didn't recognize him, he hadn't grown much from when he was a child but he looked a little more confident. He was sitting against a lanky zemeni boy, exchanging hopelessly smitten glances. Opposite them was a woman dressed in a beautiful gown and a man clad in all black with almost no skin showing. They were in complete contrast to Wylan and the Zemeni boy, sitting as far away from each other as possible.

It was the end of your shift when another server seated them in a booth at the far end of the pub. You knew you had to walk past them to get to the back, where your bag was stored in a small closet away from customers, but walking past meant possibly being recognized.

You hadn't left the Van Eck residence in good faith, having lost your temper at Wylans father for working your mother into the ground and causing her death. When Wylan had tried to speak with you, you had snapped at him and stormed away. Did he hold that against you and would he be hostile? Why was he here of all places?

You tried not to think about it, walking straight passed the table and through the back. You stumbled around the chefs and untied your apron, shoving it in your bag. You took a deep breath before heading back the way you came. You opened the door and stepped out, sidestepping around another waiter serving food at a table close by. As you tried to walk past the table Wylan was seated at, a cane blocked your path.

You stared down at the black cane blocking your path, following it to the gloved hand which held it. You didn't have to remember his name to know who he was.

The man clad in black stared at you, "Y/N, take a seat."

You almost laughed, stopping yourself before offending the bastard of the barrel, "And why would I do that?"

"Because your skills are wasted here."

You would be lying if you weren't interested. But how did Dirtyhands, leader of the Dregs, know what skills you had?

The Zemeni slid over a little more on his side of the booth, dragging Wylan along with him. You hesitantly sat down, avoiding eye contact with Wylan.

"Hi," Wylan squeaked out, offering a shy smile. Your heart melted slightly Wylan was the kindest soul you had ever met. He wouldn't dare hurt a fly and didn't deserve the mistreatment he got from his father.

"Hey,' You replied, feeling any tension resolve. You offered him a smile, watching the anxiety melt away from his face. To further remove any tension, you stole a piece of bread from his plate that sat untouched in front of him. Picking off a piece and eating it casually.

The girl on the opposite side of the booth giggled, following your lead and humming an appreciative sound at the taste.

"So..?" You turned to Brekker, "What is it exactly that you think my skills are?"

Kaz's eyes flickered from you to Wylan next to you, "Wylan tells me you have a unique talent."

You paused your movements, turning to narrow your eyes at Wylan, "Did he just," You grumbled. You had shown Wylan your summoning when you were both 15. He was your best friend and swore he would never tell another soul, he was the only person you knew who wasn't scared of shadow summoning.

Wylan stumbled over his sentence, "I didn't, uh, tell him everything."

Kaz's face morphed into a scowl.

This time you did laugh, "So you came here on a whim?"

Kaz opened his mouth to speak but was beaten by the woman.

"We need your help to break someone out of Hellgate."

Your face gave away your surprise, you had never been anywhere near Hellgate but you knew the stories, "Hellgate? As in the most secure place in Ketterdam?"

"Wylan seems to think you can help us," Kaz said.

You looked at your childhood friend, thinking over the specifics. You just might be able to help but summoning meant exposing yourself and your abilities. The Fold and The Darkling were gone, but how would people react to another shadow summoner?

"So," the Zemeni spoke, his arm draped over Wylans shoulders, "You in?"

Stepping into the Slat for the first time felt strange. You hadn't been in a warm, dry place for years. Finding it now in the middle of the barrel felt counter intuitive. You weren't expecting it, but once you stepped past the threshold you were hit by a wave of warmth.

You were somewhat jealous, your own room in the boarding house was never this warm. And you lived on the outskirts of the barrel and the financial district.

The bottom of the slat held a bar that had seen better days, to say the least. Kaz led the way to another booth, clearly the group's go-to planning table. Maps of Hellgate and various scribbled notes were perched on the wood.

You slipped into the booth and sat next to Nina, who had talked your ear off the whole walk to the Slat about Matthias the (former) Düskelle and love of her life. You didn't mind, enjoying listening to something more upbeat than the drunken rambles of patrons you were used to. Besides, it was clear she was head over heels and you always tried to help out fellow Grisha.

As Kaz went over what he was planning, you listened intently. He had fleshed out almost every part of the plan, but kept on ending up with one key factor.

"We'll be seen."

You shared a glance with Wylan.

"I can help with that."

Kaz quirked an eyebrow, waiting for you to explain further. You were hesitant, they could fear you and kill you on the spot. Or you might have to kill them.

You looked around the room, by now it was so late into the night that even the bars would be closing. There was no one else in the Slat. The last Dregs had crawled in half an hour ago and were nowhere to be seen. It didn't mean anyone couldn't walk in at any time.

Nina could feel your heartbeat grow more erratic, "No one is around." She said, trying to assure you with her small science.

"The Dregs won't interrupt us while we're in here," Kaz spoke, for a second you thought you saw curiosity in his eyes.

"Just-" You took a shaky breath, you hadn't shown anyone your powers since Wylan. Only using them in hiding to avoid growing weak. For the longest time, your mother scolded you for using your powers, teaching you the dangers of summoning anywhere that wasn't in private.

"Never tell anyone," She would mumble, wrapping you in her arms as you both curled up on the small bed in your room in the servants quarters of the Van Eck Mansion, "Your powers are your gifts, but they are your crimes too, Milaya. If anyone finds out they will punish you."

You broke the rules she set out only once, with Wylan. Were you ready to risk your comfortable life for these people you just met?

"It's hard to explain," You leant back against the booth, twisting your fingers nervously, "It's easier to show."

Kaz gestured impatiently, waiting for you to show them.

"Wylan said your Etherealnik," Jesper said flippantly, "We have a heartrender," He gestured loosely to Nina, "A wonderful durast," He grinned and gestured to himself, "About time we add an Etherealnik.”

You smiled, "Well if you're so sure."

You pressed your palms together, pausing for a second and then pulling them apart. Twisting your hands in opposite directions, your fingers moved independently to call the shadows to you. For a fleeting moment, it was like the world was losing colour, and then darkness was gathering around your hands, amassing between your palms.

You heard Nina gasp but ignored her to focus on your shadows. They reached out in tendrils, spreading up your arms as they tried to block the light from you. You pressed your hands back together, and the shadows expanded quickly and overcame the room, plunging space into pitch black. As soon as the darkness overcame the room, you called it off. Returning the room to its usual light.

Once the room was back to what it was before, you glanced around at the faces of the Crows. Wylan had the same impressed smile he had all those years ago, forever in awe of your powers. Nina was staring wide-eyed at the table, a slightly unreadable look on her face. Jesper's jaw was slack, mouth agape and blinking rapidly.

You were surprised to see Kaz wasn't at all shocked. He had the slightest smirk, not an ounce of fear or hesitation on his features.

"Those skills," He said with the same smirk, "are definitely of use."

Getting into the Hellshow hadn't been an issue. You and Nina had gotten on a boat and calmy taken seats towards the back of the crowd. Nina had to keep her face somewhat hidden, deciding on tailoring herself slightly to avoid Pekka's gaze. She had told you briefly about the last time she was here, trying to deliver the pardon Nikolai Lanstov convinced the Kerch government to write. She had been thrown out on Pekkas orders, pardon ignored. She was forced to leave not knowing how Matthias was.

You felt bad for her, it was hard to be separated from those you loved. Not that you ever had anyone other than your mother, but when she died you would have done anything to bring her back.

"So," You turned to Nina, squished up against her to avoid being too close to the drunken men beside you, "What exactly is the hellshow?"

Nina's brow furrowed in disgust, "The prisoners fight for better living conditions, food, a visit from family. It's barbaric."

She was looking over the crowd, eyes filled with silent fury. You followed her gaze to where a bearded man sat surrounded by burly prisoners. She pointed him out, "Rollins." Her voice held a hatred you hadn't thought possible of her.

You had stopped Kaz the night before, asking him what you were thinking again now, "Why don't we just kill this Pekka Rollins?"

Kaz had given you an annoyed look - although almost all of his looks were annoyed. He gave you no answer, but Jesper had filled you in on how Kaz had something personal against Rollins, something about Rollins running a con that lead to his brother's death. The specifics he didn't know. Kaz was a mystery, even to those that he seemed closest with. He seemed to like it that way. In the week it took for you all to plan the heist, you had learnt very few things about the bastard of the barrel.

Almost immediately you noticed how well he kept his thoughts and emotions hidden. At first, you had jokingly declared you would hate to play cards against him and Jesper confirmed he yet to win against his boss. Then you started to admire him, the calculated look in his eyes and the strength he projected made him the force The Barrel knew him as. Every now and again you could see a crack in his resolve. The way a corner of his mouth would quirk up for a fleeting second when Jesper made a particularly terrible joke. The quick flash of a solemn emotion - regret? pain? - when he was accused of being heartless by Nina or Per Haskell.

The other thing you noticed was entirely by mistake. It was obvious how Kaz was never without his gloves, it was the first thing you noticed about him. You didn't need to know why, everyone had their cruxes. You kept your own hidden, you assumed he did too. Then you noticed how he kept himself away from others. He never stood too close or flinched away from others' touch. You noticed it quickly and adjusted, trying to respect his boundaries. To you, it was the least you could do after what he had done for you.

You didn't think the boy had noticed, but he had. Kaz had been interested in your mysterious nature too. You kept hidden well, he hadn't expected you to shadow summon even though Wylan had warned him you were uniquely talented. He had to make assumptions about you, you looked quiet and well-mannered. But he had been surprised to learn you were anything but. You spoke your mind with little regard for manners or etiquette. Kaz grew to admire it. Not many people argued with Dirtyhands, or offered different plans from his own, but you were constantly challenging his ideas and in many ways, making them better.

Kaz couldn't, however, find your crux. It infuriated him, he found himself watching you and trying to learn more. That infuriated him more.

He could see you seated in the bleachers now, but you couldn't see him. He had slipped into the arena unnoticed by Pekkas men, hiding away from their gazes.

The plan was set in motion when Wylan and Jesper made their first move. You and Nina would then find Matthias' cell and Kaz would lead Jesper and Wylan to you. The plan was to break him out of the cells and smuggle him hidden in your darkness. Nina had told you how Matthias had been unlearning Druskelle's ideas, but he still might be hostile towards you. It made you nervous, using your power in public for the first time with the risk of Matthias messing you up. It was a considerable risk. Nina had tried to reassure you she would prevent him from interfering.

There was a far-off rumbling, then a muffled boom. You and Nina pretended to be startled like the other patrons, adding to the panic as fog started to fill the arena. As the crowd panicked and headed for the exits, you subtly summoned your shadows to extinguish the lamps around the room. The darkness drew more panic. You and Nina used it to slip past the crowds and into the hallway leading to the cells.

You almost stabbed Jesper as he came barreling around the corner in his guard's uniform. He reeled back, hands over his chest in surprise as the sudden blade.

"Saints," You swore, pocketing the knife and reaching to steady the boy, "I thought you would be slower."

“Change in plans,” Kaz said with no further explanation, "Wylan's bombs will distract the guards for a time. We need to find the frejdan quickly."

You nodded, resuming your position and following Nina as she searched for Matthias' heart. Occasionally you would clasp your hand around her wrist - a gesture not missed by Kaz. Nina had figured out quickly you were an amplifier, allowing you to help her search more efficiently. She hadn't told anyone else, because she knew what it meant. A shadow summoner who was also an amplifier? It was undisguisable the relation there.

Your group halted at a large bolted door, Nina mumbled out how she was sure Matthias was in a room beyond.

"What about guards?" Wylan spoke quietly, half hidden by Jesper, who had his pistol in hand. Wylan was in a guard's uniform too, but it looked much bigger on him, giving him an almost adolescent look.

Nina paused, "Three."

You turned to Kaz, watching him as ideas turned around in his mind.

"Wait-" Nina spoke again, crossing her hands together, "There's more than just guards."

"How do you mean?' You pressed.

"There are men in the main space," She explained, "Prisoners perhaps?"

"Rollins." Kaz hissed. None of you could know for sure, but it seemed likely. This changed everything, you had all been operating under the assumption that the prisoners were locked in their cells during security breaches. At least, that had been what Kaz's inside source had told.

"Jesper and I should go in," You said, offering a plan before Kaz could, "I can hide us, Jesper can open the door and-"

"No," Kaz interrupted. You were taken aback, he didn't even let you finish.

"Matthias doesn't know you," Nina said desperately, her voice slightly louder than the whispers in which you had all been conversing. "He won't go with you."

You shook your head in frustration, "I can't hide all of us. Even if I could, we don't have a plan.”

"Everyone stop talking," Kaz snapped, his brows pulled together in concentration.

You bit back a smart remark, it wouldn't do any good now anyway.

"Nina, Jesper," Kaz started, "You take Wylan and create a distraction, explosion or whatever." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a watch, gesturing for Wylan to bring out his own, "When the minute clock is on the 8, something big that ensures we can slip out. Then you go back to Ketterdam, as quickly as possible."

That gave you all 25 minutes but meant Nina wouldn't see Matthias. Nina looked disheartened but waited for Kaz to finish.

"Y/N and I will get Helvar. We'll use the distraction to get out, and meet you back at the Slat."

"How will we get Matthias out of a locked cell?" You hissed.

Kaz fished something out of his pocket, opening his palm to show you the small silver lock pick.

"Of course," You sighed dramatically, "I should have known you know how to pick locks."

Kaz gave you an amused smile and a look that read, Do you even know me?

Nina reached up to her neck, unclasping a necklace she always wore, "Give this to Matthias, so he knows you are with me."

You nodded, tucking the necklace in the pocket of your skirt to keep it safe.

Kaz sent the three away but not before Jesper worked his Durast science and unlocked the door.

You turned to Kaz, "I can hide us, block the light, but I can't disguise sound."

Kaz followed your gaze to his cane, nodding once in understanding.

You took a deep breath, it was now or never. Kaz pulled the door open as quietly as possible, watching your face contort in effort as you called shadows to you to surround the both of you.

You turned to Kaz before stepping into the room, "You'll have to stay close."

You didn't wait for his response, just took a dubious step into the room and pressed against the wall. Nina had said Matthias was in the 5th door on the left, but once you had entered you realized just how open the space was.

The fifth door was in the middle of the circular space, the only cover would be from Pillars of stone that held the roof up. You spared a glance at Kaz, who was standing mere centimetres away from you on your back, his cane held firmly in his grasp off the ground. Standing so close to him felt different, you hadn't expected him to be so cold. It was like he was drawing your heat away from you, which you welcomed. You were always too warm, something about the effort of summoning made you overheat easily. Your mother used to say your skin always felt feverish. Now for the first time, you felt balanced.

Kaz felt it too. How heat rolled off of you in waves. Being so close to you warmed him, which seemed impossible. He hadn't felt warmth since he was a boy, since before the Queen Lady’s Plague. You sensed his unease, looking at him and offering the smallest of apologies, your voice so quiet he hardly heard it.

He nodded for you to continue, trying not to get caught up in the feeling of being close to you. You both counted the doors as you inched along, stopping as you reached the fifth door. Kaz slowly bent down, and you spotted a flash of pain as he moved his leg. He faced the lock and started working while you stood beside him watching the courtyard.

Nina was right, there were more than three men in the room. At least eight were seated around a makeshift table, sitting on the table itself was one Pekka Rollins. You could hear the vulgar conversation he was keeping, it made you think about how much Kaz hated him. You startled when there was a soft clang, the noise echoing off the cobble walls. You turned to look at Kaz, who was silently cursing himself and staring at the lockpick resting on the floor.

"What was that?" A rough voice groused.

Rollins climbed up from his seat, he took a few slow steps towards where you were hidden in the shadows. The lanterns on the walls weren't lit, you had made sure to block the one that was nearby on a pillar to avoid any obvious shadows. Rollins was staring into the darkness like he could see you, it made you so nervous you could feel your heart beating out of your chest.

Rollins snatched a lantern from the table, holding it up and taking a few more slow steps. You tried to step back slightly but only nudged Kaz. If he noticed, he didn't react, still working on the lock. As Pekka drew closer, the lock clicked open, allowing Kaz to push the door open. He blindly reached out, grabbing your wrist, pulling you into the cell, and shutting the door behind you as quietly as possible. Almost as quickly as he had held your wrist, he let go, stepping away as you held your palms facing up to draw the shadows back into the room to avoid Rollin's suspicions.

Thankfully, it was only Matthias in the cell. He had stirred from sleep at the sounds of footsteps, when he opened his eyes you stumbled around Kaz to shove your hands over Matthias' mouth to stop any words from coming out. The Frejdan made a disgruntled noise, sleep leaving his eyes and his hands locking onto your wrists with a deathly tight grip.

"You alive in there, Helvar?" Rollin's accent gave way to his chuckle, he kicked the door, causing it to rattle and groan.

You and Kaz stared at Matthias, urging him to keep his mouth shut. With any luck, Pekka would leave and chalk it up to the sleepy groans of a prisoner. You should have known luck was not on your side.

"Helvar," Rollins barked, this time bringing his fist against the door.

You pulled your hands away from the druskelle. Mouthing "Please" to him.

"Leave me be," The Frejdan spoke hoarsely.

Rollins let out an ugly chuckle from the other side of the door but after another few tense moments, you heard footsteps moving away.

You stepped back, accidentally bumping into Kaz in the cramped space. Matthias moved from the cot, fixing you and Kaz with a dirty glare that made you even more nervous.

"Who are you?"

"We're friends of Nina," You tried to explain, beating Kaz to speak because you knew he would only escalate the situation.

Matthias' face turned sourer, within a blink of an eye he was moving. You had no time to react as he grabbed you and pushed you against the wall, his forearm pressing against your throat. He put enough pressure to limit your air, like he was trying to warn you, not to hurt you. You quickly touched your hands together and reached out to summon. Matthias grabbed your wrist and slammed it against the wall. It made a sick crack, pain blooming through your wrist and hand. You let out a string of curses, biting your tongue to avoid being too loud.

Kaz used the crow end of his cane to press against Matthias' neck, "I suggest you let go, Helvar."

Matthias let out a soft growl as he spoke, "Who are you?"

His accent was so pronounced, every word he spoke in Kerch was thick with the Frejdan accent he would never be rid of.

"Friends of Nina," You insisted, "In my left pocket, Nina gave me her necklace."

Matthias loosed his grip slightly, looking from your face to your skirt's pockets. He let go of your wrist, but you daren't move it. He slowly fished out the necklace, holding it up to study the delicate chain. He slowly moved his forearm off of you, stepping back and staring at you with wide eyes.

As soon as he was the step back, you pulled your wrist to your chest. Kaz's eyes flickered from you to the giant Frejdan in the middle of you.

"Can you..?"

You shook your head, "Maybe," you pulled your wrist away from your chest and flexed your fingers. Pain shot up your arm, causing your face to twist in a grimace.

"You are..." Matthias paused, "...Grisha."

You nodded, "I was our ticket out of here."

Kaz scowled at the Frejdan, something about his look made you think he might leave the Drüskelle here after all.

"I'll make it work," You said, pushing the pain to the back of your mind to continue with the job.

Kaz looked like he wanted to say something, but didn't. He tried to move over as much as he could letting you shuffle past and stand in front of the door.

You turned to look at the druskelle, "Don't make any noises, they will hear it."

Matthias' brows pinched together, he looked to Kaz for an explanation but the boy just ordered him to stay close.

You took a deep breath, forcing your broken hand to open so that you could summon. Moving your fingers was hard, they were reluctant to dance like usual when you summoned. You pressed past it, drawing the shadows to conceal your group, opening the door slowly and sneaking out. Kaz and Matthias stayed close behind you, following you all around the room back to the exit. As you solely opened the door, a far-off bell started to sound.

"Jesper," Kaz said quietly.

You nodded, quietly slipping into the corridor and ushering Kaz and Matthias in too. You dropped the shadows once the door closed, ignoring the incredulous stare Matthias was giving you. Kaz led the way back through the corridors and winding hallways, leaning heavily on his cane as he walked. You knew that the time he had spent off it must have caused him pain, you felt bad that the plan had gone so terribly wrong.

Kaz seemed to always have a backup plan because he led you and Matthias out of Helgate like a man on a mission. You stumbled along behind him, keeping your wrist held to your chest. Kaz led you and Matthias down a stairway, the door at the end lead into the night air. You were surprised to find a small balcony, a rotten wooden platform perched on the rocks. The saltwater had eroded away the wood on the front, making it creak and flake dangerously under your feet. Kaz made quick work of slipping down the platform and onto the rocks, he pressed his palm against the wall to steady himself. He turned back to you and Matthias waiting impatiently for you both to follow him. Matthias went first, stepping down easily, making the drop look like a small step. You tried to step down with some sense of balance, but your foot found a slippery rock and you tripped forward. You hit into Kaz, who steadied you with a hand to your bad arm. You hissed and recoiled, watching Kaz's face change.

"Sorry," You whispered, noticing how he swallowed thickly, panic barely contained in his eyes.

Kaz took a moment, looking at your genuine expression. He knew that you knew, but you made no move to ask about it his weakness. For that, he was grateful.

Kaz pushed out of his haunted thoughts, turning and leading the way across the rocks and around the outside of Hellgate. You had been walking for ten minutes when the rocks started to mix with chunks of rubble. Walking on the rocks with the rubble moving underneath your feet became harder. You all slowed down and clung to the wall for the extra support it gave.

"Saints," You murmured when you came across the gaping hole in the wall made by Wylans explosives.

"Wylan knows what he's doing," Kaz quipped, slight amusement in his tone.

It took your small group at least two hours to get back to the Slat. The majority of that time was spent in a tiny row boat getting sloshed by freezing water. You were sat next to Kaz while Matthias rowed, you had offered your help but he had huffed in Frejdan something that seemed like 'I can do it myself'.

By the time you all had entered the Slat, there had been no one on the streets and you were freezing. Matthias seemed to be dealing with the cold best, no doubt his childhood in the icy Frejda had trained him well. You and Kaz were shivering as you stumbled along, all of you were damp from your trip on the sea. Your skirts were soaked, making them heavier and heavier as you walked.

Stepping into the Slat would usually warm you up, but this time it didn't. You could see Wylan and Jesper sitting at the bar, watching Nina pace up and down. They all snapped to look at you when the door slammed shut behind you. Nina let out a tiny squeal, running and throwing herself into Matthias' arms. You and Kaz looked on briefly before stumbling further into the room.

"Saints," Jesper looked both of you up and down, "We thought maybe you'd died."

You let out a chuckle, "You can't kill weeds."

Kaz looked at you surprised and you offered him a smile.

"What happened?" Wylan asked, watching Nina and Matthias approach arm in arm.

Kaz fixed Matthias with a glare, "Your oaf broke Y/N's wrist."

Nina looked from Matthias to you, then stepped forward to assess your wrist. You offered her your hand without complaint, letting her heal it the little she could.

"It was a mistake," You defended Matthias, mostly from Kaz's dark stare.

Later that night, which had turned more to early morning, you sought out Kaz in his room. You had changed into dry clothes, your wrist wrapped to keep it steady until morning when you would find a healer. You walked up to Kaz's door, then hesitated. What if he was asleep?

You knocked anyway, gently so as to not startle him.

"Yes?"

You pushed the door open, stepping into the room slightly. Kaz didn't even turn from his perch at his desk to look at you.

"I- uh," Your voice came out much quieter than you were expecting, almost sounding broken.

Kaz stopped scribbling on the paper on front of him.

"I just wanted to ask," You spoke clearer this time, "If you were okay?"

Kaz turned to look at you this time, surprised. After a few days with the bastard of the barrel, you had gotten better at reading his subtle emotions. Even the ones he tried to hide deep in his eyes. Like the anxiety when you touched him, or again on the boat.

Kaz didn't answer, he didn't have to.

"You don't have to answer," You said after a moment of silence passed, "Everyone has their..." You searched for the right word.

"Weaknesses," Kaz said.

"Weaknesses." You agreed.

You took a small step forward, testing the waters. Kaz didn't tell you to back off or look fearful.

"We all have them," You continued.

Kaz nodded once, "And you?"

You smiled, "Dirtyhands doesn't know?"

Kaz looked away and sighed in exasperation.

You stepped closer, approaching the desk, "It's this."

You summoned your shadows, forming them into a small tangled shape in your palm. The shadows reached up your arm, trying to tangle their way around you. You dismissed them, staring at the empty space above your palm.

Kaz thought about how wrong you were.

"If you ever need to share," You took a step back, "I'll be here."

You left him at his desk, exiting the room and closing the door behind you. Maybe it would take some time, but you were willing to wait if it meant becoming someone Kaz Brekker could rely on.

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