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lenbear · 29 days ago

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Shrunken Partner Part 1

NOTES: Hello, This is my own take on a G/t scenario with Viktor and Jayce. My drawings are based on this situation. Please note that it has been a very long time since I wrote a story or a fanfic so my grammar may be a bit wonky here and there. I am not sure how many parts I will do for this but I hope you enjoy it.

———————————

“So how did you get this small?”

Viktor looked up at Jayce with a slightly shocked look. He was currently on the table of their lab, reading over the notes that they have compiled in the last few days of researching the shrinking effect the Arcane crystals had. It's been about a week since Jayce found him in his blown-up apartment shrunken to 8cm. He was honestly shocked the man didn't ask sooner. Maybe he thought it was rude?

“After you were taken away to your cell and other guards left, I stayed to look around more.” Viktor looked back to the notes. “I was reading over your notes and the blackboard. Then I found some more Arcane crystals hidden away under a few beams and rubble, and they must have been affected by the explosion, since as soon as I touched them the world spun and went black. It must have taken a toll on my body because when I woke up, I was tired, groggy and lightheaded. I then saw you pondering on the edge of the hole in the wall.”

Jayce remembers the night well.

—

He was about to jump, to end it all when he heard a small accented voice. “Am I interrupting?”. It shocked him and he looked around and stepped away from the edge. He didn’t see anyone then he heard more noises when he took a few steps. It kinda sounded like shouting. He remembers turning on a torch and seeing the tiny man at his feet. Just centimetres from his shoe.

He couldn’t believe it. There was no way this was real. Jayce’s mind raced with disbelief but the closer he looked at the tiny man, he had to admit, he was so cute. His scrunched up face in annoyance and anger but Jayce froze when he saw fear as well. The tiny yells pulled him out of his head. Without thinking, Jayce bent down and picked up the 8cm tall man with Viktor letting out a tiny yelp. When he looked closer he realised that he recognised him. Assistant to the dean of the academy? That’s what he said right? But he was nowhere near this small a day or so ago!

Jayce was so shocked he nearly fainted and could only muster an apology, feeling guilt for nearly stepping on the man and for haphazardly picking him up. He was so light. He fit perfectly in one hand but he held the tiny man gently with two and now that he was closer he could definitely see how cute he was. Past all the apologies and the fear on both parts, they conversed. Jayce learned that the man’s name was Viktor. Jayce sat on the edge of the hole in the wall to be lower to the ground for the tiny man. Surely it would feel like he was hundreds of metres above the ground. The two men had their heart to heart about the potential of hextech, changing the world and the idea of helping each other and the people. Why Jayce didn’t ask about his tiny height then, he wasn’t sure.

—

“That was a long time to be out in that empty apartment. I'm just glad I found you before something else did…” Jayce looked down at his partner with worry in his eyes. The idea of animals or someone else finding an unconscious tiny man scared him. It was a long time for Viktor to be out cold and shrunken.

“And eh.. before you stepped on me.” Viktor gave a small smirk to his giant partner. Jayce couldn’t help but wince. He tried not to think about that.

“Yeah, yeah. I apologized...” He sighed. “I just cannot believe that the crystals reacted that way due to the explosion. That they too didn't explode. Instead.. Shrinking you.” he thought hard. Was there another factor he was missing?

“It is only a theory of why but the most logical answer.” Viktor said thoughtfully. “It is definitely an unexpected surprise but I'm sure our minds can come up with a way to reverse the effect.” Viktor tried to be optimistic. “I know that I much rather be back to my own height and change my clothes.” Viktor looked down at himself and grimaced. The man had been wearing the same ones since he’s been shrunken down. The only times he’s taken them off was when Jayce washed them and the whole time he would stay hidden from Jayce until they were dry, which took hours some days.

Jayce always feared he’d rip Viktor’s clothes if he were to wash them too hard. They were so small and delicate. Much like his new partner.

Jayce thought back to the day his apartment was searched. Seeing the very man in front of him, at normal height. Still shorter than himself. Seeing a mischievous glint in the man's amber eyes when he told Jayce he was considered dangerous. He did find him attractive when he saw him, which was a weird feeling. He doesn't remember a time where he felt another man was attractive. Thinking another man was.. Cute. Now that that man was so small that feeling grew more.

“We really need to make you clothes. I have a feeling that this size issue is going to last a bit longer than we hope.”

Viktor shot him a look of annoyance but he then sighed and looked down at himself.

“You're right. As much as I don't want to admit it, you're right. We have no clue how long this will last. Days, months.. Years..?” The man hugged himself. He did not want this to last that long.

Viktor practically jumped when he felt a large warm presence on his back. Jayce rested two fingers on his back and gently rubbed up and down. The giant man was so warm. He yearned for that warmth.

“It's going to be ok Vik. We'll take this one day at a time.” Jayce gave a gentle and comforting smile. “Why not come to my house tonight? Beats the cold lab right?” As much as Viktor wanted to decline, he felt it was a bit intruding to go and sleep in someone else’s house, especially when he only met the man about a week ago and that he is staying at his mother’s house due to the council’s decision. He had to accept. The lab has been getting colder, and even though he has a way to keep warm, the atmosphere of the lab is cold. It’s empty. Lifeless. Unlike the giant man in front of him who felt like a furnace itself. Not to mention that Viktor has been awake a lot during the night to try and work on how to grow back.

”Mh.. Fine. It might do some good to get away from the lab. Clear… my head.” Viktor looked to the side, away from Jayce. It was hard not to blush when the huge man was staring at him like he was a magical fairy.

Jayce smiled wide. “That’s the spirit! Time away will do wonders for you, I’m sure of it!” He knew Viktor wasn’t getting a lot of sleep. He could see the growing dark circles under his gold amber eyes. Not that he was trying to stare at Viktor’s eyes and noting how beautiful they were. Not at all.

—

The two spent the next few hours going over their rune combinations, equations and probabilities. Thanks to Viktor they were able to sneak a few things away from Heimerdinger’s lab before they were destroyed. Using that equipment, they were able to try some tests on some plants with terrible results. Feeling defeated, the two decided to call it for the day. Jayce packing up the gear and hiding the crystals that they recovered.

Jayce was so thankful that the council decided that he was ok to keep attending the Academy. Thanks to the good word of his sponsors, his mother, Heimerdinger and how Mel saw potential in him. He still had to live at home with his mother but he was at least able to have a lab to continue his real academy studies. Not that he has been doing them.

But now, the awkward part..

”Um, so I’ll have to um.. Pick you up..” Jayce got nervous. Ever since their first meeting and when he was able to go to his new lab, he hasn’t really held Viktor. He’d bring everything Viktor needed straight to him, placing all things in front of the man. He grew more nervous, he was going to hold him again. He still remembers the weight his body created in his hands. How soft he was, how light he was, how he felt as light as a pen. Seeing how small his cane is, like a toothpick. “Would you rather I just.. pick you up? Or did you want to crawl into my hands..?”

Viktor looked up to the giant man in front of him. He tried hard not to crack a smile at how flustered he looked. “Hmm.. Well I suppose it would be best to be picked up but.. eh, I still want some dignity. I will try and crawl onto your hands. Lay them flat.”

Jayce did so, putting both his hands flat in front of the tiny man. Both of them froze looking at the size difference between Jayce’s hands and Viktor’s miniature body. They didn’t move for a solid minute before Viktor slowly walked towards the hands. Being so small, he could see every detail. They were a little dirty from the day’s experiments but that didn’t really bother the small man. He slowly placed his bad foot on the squishy flesh of Jayce’s fingers and tried to get on but fell forward due to the pain in his leg. Jayce immediately scooped him up as he caught his partner. Being as gentle as he can possibly be.

”Are you ok Viktor!?” His hazel eyes looked over the doll-sized man. Checking for injuries, especially his leg. “Is your leg ok? Why did you step on my hand with it?”

”I.. eh, thought your hand would have been soft enough for it not to hurt. I.. didn’t really think.” He looked away with a blush. He wasn’t sure why he would have thought he would have been fine stepping on his hand like that. Viktor was shocked when he was suddenly lifted to Jayce’s face. He took in every detail, feeling the warm breath wash over him.

”You need to be careful. I know you’re not a fragile porcelain doll but you’re so small that if something did happen, I’d struggle to help you..” Jayce said with a soft tone lined with worry. He looked like a sad puppy.

Viktor looked at him with slightly wide eyes, trying to hide his true expression. “Ah, well, thank you Jayce. I’ll be sure to be careful.” He pet Jayce’s fingers under him. Trying to calm the giant down. “I will be fine.”

“Ok. Good. Let’s get going then.” Jayce’s smile came back as he packed his journals into a small bag with one of his hands then left the room. He was sure to lock everything before he left. He was very cautious of who was in the hallways and tried to stay away from people. Jayce held Viktor close to his chest to hide him when he did in fact get close to someone. He tried to act natural but did tend to give off a nervous vibe. Which even Viktor picked up on. As well as Sir Heimerdinger.

”Jayce! M’boy! On your way home this fine evening?” The Yordle looked up at the young man in front of him. He was very happy that Jayce took his advice at the trial. He didn’t want to lose one of his favourite students. He was a bit curious about the nervous vibe from him.

Jayce froze when he ran into Heimerdinger. He knows that the Dean has been searching for his assistant for nearly a week. It only added pressure to his conversation because this time, unlike the other times he’s spoken to the professor, he actually was holding who he was looking for.

“Oh! Uh, I am doing well! Spent the day catching up on my studies! You know, since I fell behind due to my stupid dream.” Jayce inwardly cringed. He hated lying like this and talking about his life’s work in such a way.

”Splendid! Good to hear m’boy! I cannot wait to see the end product of your studies.” The older man noticed the way Jayce had his hand cupped over his chest. “What do you have there?”

Jayce’s blood went cold and his heartbeat increased. Oh no. What does he say? He even felt Viktor freeze up at the question. “Uh, n-nothing professor! Just uh..” He didn’t know what to say. He could see the suspicion growing on the man’s face. He was freaking out. That was until he felt the small man against his chest move. He could feel him slipping into his shirt, able to slip between the fabric of his scarf and under shirt. He should be hidden. Jayce moved his hand slowly away from his chest. No proof that there was even a tiny man there. “Just had a bit of a sore chest, is all. I just need some rest after today and some dinner.”

Heimerdinger was still a little curious but he quickly smiled. “Well that’s all good then! Well done for your work Jayce.” The man started to go on his merry way before stopping and looking at Jayce again. “By any chance, have you seen any signs of my assistant? Lanky fellow, a bit shorter than you, has a cane?”

You could say he was a bit shorter.. “Can’t say that I have, professor. I’m sorry.” Jayce felt his heartbeat quicken again. It was like he was smuggling the Dean’s assistant around.

”That’s alright. If you do see him, please let me know. I worry for that boy.” The Yordle Dean continued on his way through the halls. Leaving Jayce (and Viktor) alone in the hallway.

Jayce felt Viktor move to poke his head out but Jayce moved him back. “Stay in there. Just in case someone else walks by.” Viktor sighed and did as he was told. The rest of the walk was uneventful.

—

Jayce got to his mother’s home and quietly snuck in. Viktor was sticking his head out from behind the scarf after he heard the door close. This was his mother’s home? He immediately felt the warmth of the home based on the warm lights, the smell of a home cooked meal and the pictures on the walls. All of a young boy and a woman, some with an older man too.

Jayce walked through the house, keeping an eye out for his mother. He quickly realised that she was in the kitchen with their hired maid. He quickly went up the stairs but before he made it halfway, his mother called out.

“Jayce? Is that you?” She smiled. She missed having her son back home. “Come down, dinner is already ready for you.” Jayce sighed and looked down at Viktor. He knew he needed to get him to his room but his mother’s calls couldn’t be ignored. “Jayce? Did you hear me?”

”Yes mother! I’m coming!” He lowered his shoulders. “Sorry Vik. She’d get suspicious if I ignored her.” Viktor was about to argue but Jayce gently pushed him back under his scarf and shirt. “I’ll get you some food. Don’t worry.” He made his way to the dining room where a stew sat ready for him on the table. He could immediately tell that his mother was the one who made this. He sat down across from Ximena and started to eat his dinner. Making light conversation with his mother.

Viktor sighed and slouched into the crevice made in the shirt and scarf. It was so warm in Jayce’s shirt. The man’s body was already a furnace and having all the layers of the Academy uniform was not helping. Though it was very soft and comfortable. The constant sound of Jayce’s heartbeat was comforting and soothing. It was almost enough to make him go to sleep. He was still so tired from last night's studies of the crystals and possible ways to reverse the effect on himself. The vibrations of Jayce speaking to his mother also went right through him. It was subtle and it felt good. Like a gentle massage.

Viktor felt very conflicted. Was it the right decision to come to Jayce’s home? Was it better if he stayed in the lab? He’s only ever been in the lab or Jayce’s destroyed apartment. It was a bit nerve wracking being outside of the places he has known. Especially since there are other giants around and that it was Jayce’s family home. But he knew that he couldn’t stay in that cold lab. It wasn’t good for his already bad health.

He chose to just snuggle into the warmth, feeling Jayce flinch slightly at his sudden movement. He truly wished that this size issue won’t last too long but deep down he knew that it would take longer than he anticipated. His eyelids grew heavy and before he knew it, he was sound asleep against his new partner’s chest. All snuggled up in the fabric of his shirt and scarf. Hidden from the outside world.

—

Jayce thanked his mother for dinner and went up to his old room, holding a small bowl of stew in his hands. His room still had all his childhood posters of magic hanging up but it also had some new ideas and concepts of his work hanging with them. He closed his bedroom door and locked it. He did not want the maid or his mother to walk in when Viktor was out. Speaking of which..

”Hey Vik, sorry about that.” He started to undo the buttons of his vest. “I didn’t mean to push you back there. I just didn’t want to risk suspicion from my mother.” He grew confused and worried when he heard and felt no movement. “V-Viktor?” He quickly removed his scarf and froze. He looked down at a sleeping Viktor. He seemed to be in a deep deep sleep. He held onto Jayce’s shirt for comfort. Jayce’s face went as red as the scarf in his hands.

What does he do? He doesn’t want to wake Viktor, he probably had a few rough nights and.. he looked so cute. Sleeping soundly. As if nothing was wrong with the world. Jayce looked at his bed then back to Viktor. He doesn’t want to wake Viktor so he can get changed, it wasn’t worth it. Jayce places the bowl of stew on his desk and his journal before walking to his bed. He at least takes off his shoes before slipping into the covers. Still wearing his Academy uniform. He lays on his back and gently lays his hand protectively over his sleeping partner. Still none the wiser of the position he’s put Jayce in.

Jayce cannot help but smile. As weird as the situation was of his now hex-tech partner being the size of a doll, he was happy that the magic of the Arcane did not hurt Viktor. If a life was lost due to the explosion or another damaging effect from the crystals, he wouldn’t know what to do. He was happy Viktor was relatively safe. Especially being in his arms, or hands.

“Sleep well Viktor.” With that Jayce closed his eyes and went to sleep.

#g/t #giant/tiny #arcane gt #tiny viktor #jayvik #gt writing #jayce talis #viktor arcane #jayce x viktor #Shrunken partner #League gt

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rarityroo · 10 months ago

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Obviously Jax is bad at feelings; even worse with apologizing. He and his girl have their first big fight and she just gives him the cold shoulder to the point he’s frustrated. He’d definitely say something “Come on, doll face, I said I was sorry! What else do you want from me, woman?!”

Fumbling apologies

(Jax x Fem!reader)

Hi! Im sorry this took a bit, I sadly have strep and feel like I ate a cheese grater lmao. This isn’t proof read so please forgive me if this is wonky, I honestly really like writing for Jax so I’m very happy I got this request! If you like this please lmk, Enjoy!

You didn't mind Jax's crude nature, more often than not you found it funny. Sure his jokes and such were mean but he had a certain air about him you found so enjoyable. Until this moment at least...

"I just don't get what the big deal is!" Jax says in a dismissive tone. Your eyes flashed with frustration, was he serious? "It's not just about saying sorry, Jax. It's about meaning it! You can't just toss around apologies like they're nothing. I need to feel like you actually understand why I'm upset." Jax crosses his arms, a stubborn glint in his eyes. “Come on, doll face, I said I was sorry! What else do you want from me, woman?!” Jax said exasperated, he just wanted this to be over.

You shook your head, unbelieving. "I want you to acknowledge why I'm upset! I want you to understand how your actions hurt me." You were so sick of his insensitive jokes, or dismissive attitude whenever you try to talk about how you feel. He was so mean sometimes, but you still loved him.

Jax's frustration finally boils over, and he snaps, "Well, maybe if you weren't so damn sensitive, we wouldn't be in this mess!" "

Your eyes widen, hurt flashing across your face before it hardens into resolve. "Y'know what, fine. Jax, if that's how you feel, maybe we need some time apart." You started to regret those words, you didn't want him to go, you didn't want space but you were so exhausted from the constant back and forth. This has gone too far.

For a moment, silence hangs heavily between them, tension crackling in the air. Then, Jax's expression softens, regret seeping into his features. He knows he messed up. He knows he needs to make things right.

"I... I didn't mean that," he says quietly, his voice tinged with remorse. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't-." Jax was struggling to find the words, he doesn't like apologizing, he thinks it's a waste of his time and that it's below him although he knows he's wrong for what he said. You look at him, maybe he finally says a decent apology instead of brushing it off, maybe it was different this time.

You meet his gaze, your expression softening slightly. "Do you really mean that?"

Jax nods earnestly. "Yeah, I do." He said his eyes earnest, he looked embarrassed. "I know I'm not great at this stuff, but I want to try. I care about you alright? I don't want you to be all sad because of some dumb thing I said, I care about you or whatever." He finalized with a huff. You internally softly smile at that.

You take a deep breath, calming yourself, "I care about you too, Jax. But we need to communicate better. I don't want this to happen again."

He reaches out, gently taking your hand in his. "I promise I'll work on it. Starting with this." And then, with a tenderness he didn't know he possessed, Jax leans in and presses his lips to yours in a sweet, apologetic kiss. In that moment, the tension melts away, replaced by a warmth that spreads through you both. You may not be perfect, but you were willing to try, together.

#tadc jax #jax x reader #tadc x fem reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #the amazing digital circus #jax x reader tadc #tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus jax #jax the rabbit #tadc

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goingmerryfics · 4 months ago

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HELLO, I was seeing that you were open to requests and I've had this in my head for a long time and I would really like to see something about this, a reader who has a huge scar on his face that is literally ugly, they got it as a child, apart from the fact that it shows part of the teeth of how serious it was and for this reason the reader wears a mask for fear of being told things about them face, I'm sorry if it's something explicit just that sometimes I feel like I don't explain myself

Reader with a scar - Luffy & Penguin

Content: reader is referred to as a ‘guy’ and a ‘dude’, reader wears a face mask, can be read as platonic, face scarring due to a past accident not specified, fluff and reassurance, a few mentions of Shachi in Penguin's part.

Notes* Hey there! There wasn't a character specified for this ask, so I chose two that I'm less experienced with to write out this prompt with :) male reader because of the pronouns used in the ask! I got really interested in this prompt right away and wrote it immediately upon receiving the ask and absolutely had to post it now so I apologize if the formatting is wonky! I'm on mobile haha

Luffy

When you first met Strawhat Luffy, it was while he was stopped at your home island along his grand adventure

You'd never really paid much attention to pirates and their lives- you had your own to live and figure out anyway

But as you and Luffy became closer- first as acquaintances, then as temporary allies, and then as friends as he boldly declared it in a short amount of time, you started to really like the guy

He'd only asked you about the mask you wore once. But the second you tried to answer him, he was distracted by dinner. After that, it was if he'd forgotten all about his question

It was kind of nice that way, not needing to worry about constant pestering or comments about it

Luffy truly didn't give a shit what you wore on your face at all. He cared about you (and your food, of course)

Luffy had a way of making you feel as if you could trust him to see your face. What you've kept hidden for most of your life, after a terrible accident had, in your opinion, ruined your life

But Luffy's care for you was unlike anything you've ever felt before. Luffy made you feel safe, protected, and just a little anxious at how willing he was to throw himself in harm's way to help you, the appointed new friend

One evening, you decide that you do in fact want to talk to him about your past. It's a decision you've been thinking over for a while, but actually getting up and moving to Luffy's room is such a sudden action, and then you're suddenly seeking him out in the dead of night on his ship to tell him about your scar.

The Thousand Sunny was still docked peacefully at the edge of the south side of your island, where you had originally met them what felt like so long ago. In reality, it had only been about a week since the Strawhats arrived, and yet it felt like so much longer in the chaos.

Their gangplank was pulled up, but before you could start trying to climb the ship's side, you spot Luffy out on the deck- evident by the straw hat on his head.

You call out his name, and he turns right away. With a grin quickly spreading on his face, he hops off the sunny and onto the grassy island floor. He calls your name happily.

“What are you doing over here? Is something wrong?” He asks.

You tell him it's not that, and he picks up on your unease.

“Well, what is it? It's hard to tell but you look like something's bothering you. Are you hungry?”

You shake your head, and you begin to explain. You tell him about your accident, about how your face was scarred and disfigured. You tell him about your upbringing, how hard it was to fit in with the other kids while you looked like that.

You can feel yourself getting emotional. Luffy can hear it in your voice, too. He calls your name in a stern tone- one he only seems to use when he gets serious.

“Listen, I don't care about all that crap.” He speaks. And though his words are blunt, you know he means them in the best way.

“I like you. You're a really nice guy, and you fight really well. So what else matters? You think I care if you've got a scar on your face?”

He stares at you, and you feel it in the center of your chest.

“You should feel free to do whatever you want! If you want to wear your mask then that's fine. But if you don't, then take it off! And if people don't like it, that's their problem! If they don't want to get to know you because of what your face looks like, then they're the ones that are missing out!”

You can feel tears in your eyes. There's something about the way Luffy says- no, declares it so passionately that leaves no doubt in your mind of his pure fondness for you.

Through your tears, you can see Luffy's smile, and your heart soars.

Penguin

You'd been a Heart Pirate for a short amount of time, but somehow you had made quick friends with many people on the Polar Tang- one of them being the man who called himself, ‘Penguin’ with the hat to prove it

There was something about him that was so easy to click with. Maybe it was your shared sense of humor, or the fact that you found it hilarious watching him and his partner in crime Shachi get into trouble for pulling pranks around your Captain (for the millionth time)

You weren't the only person on the crew who wore a full face mask, either. So while he was curious and questioned it in the beginning, one word from you to leave it alone and he backed off. Surprisingly.

Still, you definitely caught him eyeing you at times. The urge to pull the mask off your face to see what you were hiding was strong in him, but you two were friends and he wouldn't do that to you

One evening, Shachi had been pressing you just a little too much about the matter and he'd said, “What, are you ugly or something under there?”

Which earned a swift smack to the back of his head from Penguin, chastising him for saying something that insensitive

He'd noticed the way your teeth clenched, how tense you got. It had obviously hit home, and he made Shachi apologize for his rude joke right then and there

After that though, he found himself wondering why. Why did you think you were ugly? What were you hiding? Did you actually have a reason to be insecure, or was it something more?

He cared about you. He didn't want you to feel like you couldn't be yourself around them- the Heart Pirates were your family now, and a proper family didn't hurt each other for something so miniscule.

You had gotten over the comment, but Penguin had already begun his mission.

It was late into the evening. The chores were done for the day, and Penguin wanted to catch you before you went to bed. He wasn't really sure what he was gonna do or say, but he knew he wanted to address it before the worry drove him to insomnia.

He searches the halls for you and eventually finds you in the common room. He calls your name cheerfully, thankful that you're alone here- at least for the time being.

You greet Penguin, looking up from what you'd been doing. He takes a seat nearby and starts to make idle chatter, asking you about your day, telling you a bit of gossip, smiling when he gets you to laugh.

Then he clears his throat and switches gears, moving on to the conversation he really came here for.

“So, uh… There was something I wanted to talk to you about.”

You watch him fidget for a minute. He's not good with feelings at all, and he's trying to figure out how to bring this up without accidentally offending you. Eventually, he finds the words.

“So… About what Shachi said a while back. I was kinda worried about it.”

You quickly assure him that it was fine, that Shachi apologized and he only meant it as an, albeit bad, joke.

“Yeah, but… I don't know. It looked like it really bothered you. I hope you don't think that, like, we would think you're ugly or something! Whatever you look like under there, you're still the same cool dude we know. Nothing would change that. I guess I just wanted to say that.” Penguin shrugs.

You're not sure what to say to that. Your initial reaction is bitter- to insist that actually they would think you're ugly if they could see your face. But something stops you, and you get stuck just choking on your words.

“Look, I'm just saying, it bothers me to think that you don't like the way you look. I'm not saying you have to show me your face or anything, but just… If you choose to take your mask off one day, I hope you know that we'd love you all the same. You'll always be our family, no matter what you look like.”

You nod, because it's all you can bring yourself to do in the moment. It's nice, hearing that reassurance.

Penguin quickly changes the subject to try and dissipate the tension in the room made by the serious conversation, going on about something stupid Shachi had done that got him into some shit with the Captain earlier, which makes you laugh.

His words stick to your heart -You'll always be our family, no matter what you look like- and you know that when you do decide to show yourself to them, that you'll be alright.

#one piece #harleyasks #harley writes #hwop #luffy x reader #one piece luffy #straw hat luffy #monkey d luffy #op penguin #one piece penguin #penguin op #penguin x reader #op penguin x reader

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aetherdoesthings · 8 months ago

Text

hanahaki!reader x arlecchino part 2

forethoughts: i'm aetherdoesthings, of course i don't stick to my schedule. anyways, apologies if the timing of this fic seems wonky. i had specific scenarios in my head when i was planning this, with each stage of filming, which i have no clue about because that is not the path i took, so yeah :]. enjoy early upload!

notes: alocohol mentioned!!! drinking is in this!!! reader does drink!! don't be like reader this was just for plot drink responsibly guys!!! modern setting, arlecchino and reader are actresses, fem!reader, hanahaki au

“So, how’s everything? Still coughing up a storm?” You choked on your coffee when you heard that familiar voice, echoing in your head like a broken stereo.

“I guess you still are. Wow, an entire year?” Arlecchino chuckled, pressing a few buttons on the coffee machine. “So what did the doctor say? Just a cough? Cold? Colds don’t last for a year. Doesn’t look like a fever.”

“R-Right, u-um, just a cough. Y-Yeah.” You nodded your head, mustering up a smile.

Damn it, Y/N, you’re an actress. Act. You scolded yourself on your performance.

“Alright then.” Arlecchino gazed at your smile, one finding its way onto hers. “I hope you’ll be okay; tomorrow is all about shooting promotion videos and the day after traveling from studio to studio to do interviews.”

Your face instantly paled at Arlecchino’s words. Shit. Promo week. No rest, non stop smiling, repeating the same phrase over and over again on different networks and platforms. The worst part was that Arlecchino was right by your side the entire time during the shoot, acting all lovey dovey towards you to sell to the audience that the two of you were playing a pair of couples. Then again, you would be lying if you said you weren’t excited to read comments after comments of netizens shipping the two of you together. Your heart fluttered at the thought, the child inside you kicking their feet in the air as you held back a grin. Well, you held the grin back, but not the cough.

Your left hand shot up to your mouth, your body already letting the cough take place, letting the petal travel up your esophagus and into your palm. You didn’t like how your body was already used to the feeling of having a part of a flower regurgitate out of you, muscles immediately jumping into action and making way for the disease in your lungs. Your stomach churned as Arlecchino rubbed her hand on your back, trying to comfort you and make you feel better.

“Oh, Y/N…” Arlecchino’s hand took the hand that was on your mouth, holding it in hers as she made you look at her. It took every single willpower inside you to not blush or let any sort of heat course through your body, biting down a whine as her fingers found its way to your chin. Your bones turned into toothpicks, joints threatening to disappear.

“Are you sure you are going to be alright? You don’t need to power through all those interviews if you physically cannot-”

“I can.” A surge of stubbornness and pride overpowered your senses. Arlecchino didn’t know you were in love with her, and Arlecchino certainly did not need to know you were in love with her, and that you were a weak little coward that let a disease run your life.

“I can.” You repeated yourself, nodding your head. “I’ll power through. I promise.”

You felt like you were telling yourself that more than you were telling Arlecchino.

Arlecchino stared at you, those crimson eyes giving you no clue into what she felt. Arlecchino pursed her lips, before removing herself from you. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, darling.”

And just like that, Arlecchino left the room, her hands leaving your body. You let out a gasp at the missing touch, confused and baffled by her actions, cheeks flaring red at her nickname for you. All alarms in your brain all went off at once, your stomach doing a backflip and your vertical toothpicks turning horizontal. You looked at your left hand, noticing the empty palm. That’s strange. A flower petal was always there after your skin turned red and you got lightheaded. Your mind flashed back to Arlecchino’s hand around yours, how you thought her act of intertwining your fingers was supposed to be an effort to comfort you.

Oh, how naïve you were.

Arlecchino had the petal.

Arlecchino knew.

Arlecchino was going to have the evidence she needed to confirm her suspicions.

How would she even know-

You always coughed whenever she got close or when you talked to her, you idiot, and she’s a fucking genius, so she’ll piece everything together! Your brain quarreled with each other, your body leaving the room as you stood there like a soldier made of stone, palm open and empty.

Maybe there wasn’t a petal this time. One side argued.

There always is one.

But maybe there wasn’t.

You leaned onto that sentence, clinging onto it as if it was your lifeline. Maybe there wasn’t a petal this time when you coughed. Maybe it really was just a cough. It wasn’t a cough from your stupid crush on the beautiful, intelligent-

She definitely knows.

You stared at the bread knife on the table, stabbed into a piece of baguette. If only that baguette was your heart, perhaps you wouldn’t have to deal with the constant yes or no that battled in your head, no side willing to raise the white flag yet.

This was Arlecchino. Hollywood star with a hundred million followers. Everybody knew her name. No haters, no drama, just an absolute queen living among peasants. And… you were one of those peasants.

As if Arlecchino would ever love you back.

As if Arlecchino would ever want to spend time with you, a total D tier so-called actress.

But maybe there wasn’t a petal this time.

Maybe. How that word was able to make hope fill your heart and shatter it into tiny pieces.

Furina was giving a speech. You were amongst the crowd of both cast and crew, a glass of wine in your damp grip. Your finger drummed against your pants, waiting for her monologue to end so you could ditch the party.

Somehow, you managed to survive through the whole filming process, despite having to cough up petals every day. Yes, people turned their eyes towards you, then towards the other normal people to talk about the freak you were. Coughing and disrupting every other scene where Arlecchino’s character had to be in close proximity with you. The minute Furina ended her speech, you snatched a full bottle of wine from one of the serves, disappearing into the blank hallways before anyone could start a conservation with you. You ducked into a nearby broom closet, the walls managing to drown out most of the sound of laughter and conversations. You closed the door behind you, sinking down to your knees as a sigh of relief passed through your lips instead of a petal. With the bottle of wine already opened, you wrapped your lips around the front, chugging all the wine down your throat, hoping that’ll be enough to make you forget your situation, even better end your predicament for you. If the disease wasn’t going to kill you, alcohol will. And you were a much bigger fan of the latter.

The noise did not die down for the rest of your time you spent in the closet, your head resting against the wood. Maybe no one will find you here, and leave you here to rot. Yeah. No one paid attention to you, even though you were supposed to be the co-star of the movie. After all, it was Arlecchino you were working with. Arlecchino. Everyone loved her, everyone wanted a picture with her. You? You were just there to hold her bags. That was all you were worth.

“Oh, Arlecchino.” You laughed into the darkness, head rolling against the door. “Why must you be like this?”

You despised the feeling of helplessness and dependency on another person.

You never intended to fall in love with Arlecchino. The constant need to see her and hear her voice was never desired.

And now there was a damn disease you were plagued with that forced you to confront something you wish never existed.

There were two options to get rid of hanahaki forever. Either you confess your love to Arlecchino and she says yes, or you confess your love to Arlecchino and get rejected.

“Like she’ll ever love me back.” You laughed, bringing the glass to your mouth, even though it was empty.

Suddenly, the door swung open, causing you to fall onto the wooden ground, drunken eyes readjusting to the harsh lights, a crimson and white figure partially blocking your sight.

“Hmn. So this is what people stricken by hanahaki is like? They drink themselves out of their misery and hide in a broom closet?” Arlecchino’s voice echoed in your head, that signature snarkiness and mockery in her voice. Though there was a tint of warmth and concern in her voice as well, or maybe you were just hallucinating again.

Yep, you’re done for.

#genshin impact #arlecchino x reader #arlecchino genshin #the knave #aetherwrites #hanahaki #hanahaki disease

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lilactwilights · 10 days ago

Text

A heathen clung to piety

priest!gojo x reader - series masterlist

summary — everything about satoru gojo is pristine. from his charming looks, to his unblemished family name and his exemplary priesthood. because of that, attraction is nothing more than fuel for what you assume is a one-sided fantasy, a carefully kept secret you are content to keep deep within. but when you end up in his bed, the vows he broke end up cracking the surface of his immaculate facade and bringing forward the painful memories and the cruel truth of a tragedy all too familiar.

or, you find out the angel named Satoru Gojo may have fallen a long time ago, and that you might end up falling with him too.

chapter summary — with satoru’s return, a new arrival at the city and winter prevailing, you are forced to confront all you have been trying to run away from.

word count: 10k

Hello there! ฅ≽(•⩊ •マ≼ Thank you for your interest in reading! This has been in my drafts for some time, and in my mind for considerably longer. I have thought about Gojo a lot. And Priest Satoru Gojo spawned after playing with his canon counterpart like a Barbie, witnessing the talent of fandom creators and exploring a bit of my catholic memories. Let it be known that, funny enough, I have never experienced attraction towards a real-life priest and I don't think that day will come. Nonetheless, there's something about Gojo that has made his lil priest self my favorite plaything and that´s why I promised myself that, if I ever posted a fic again, I wanted him to do the honors. Excited to say that the day has finally come. I won't say much more here other than be mindful of the tags here, I will be updating them accordingly and letting you know if there is any specific thing you should keep an eye out for in the upcoming chapters. English is not my first language and I'm more than a bit rusty so it's a bit nerve-wrecking to put this out there /ᐠ ╥ ˕ ╥マ. Regardless, I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it ♡ (Might edit this chapter a bit in the near future) I'm new to tumblr so I apologize if the formatting looks a bit wonky, I´m still working on it

You don’t like winter.

It brings cold and sickness and painful memories with it. For you, the best part of it are the droplets of melting ice announcing its imminent departure and the first sightings of green peeking through the remnants of snow. Trees are still skinny and mostly naked, branches trembling at the wind, bending under the weight of the last snowfall but, between the leisure movement of a heavy cloud and the other, the sun has started to reach out with its lukewarm rays.

As you stand on the platform, you claim the only spot touched by the sun, though it does little to alleviate the stubborn reminder of a winter you would chase away if you could. The wind remains almost freezing cold, it makes you shiver and shut your eyes tight every time it slaps you in the face, every hit of air chafing your skin.

You mourn the scarf you left hanging at the rack back home. You were already two streets away when you realized you had forgotten it and you were quick to dismiss it in favor of catching the train on time.

Now you are here, with no scarf, a freezing frame and a train running late, because, of course, only Satoru Gojo would manage to be late even by train.

In fact, if a person could be blamed for making a train run late, it would probably be Gojo, somehow. Last time you took a train together, a few months back, you almost missed it because of him. He doesn’t have anyone to nag at him this time, so you can only hope he boarded on time, like he always seems to barely do.

This town needs an actual train station, you think, as you nuzzle further into your winter coat. There’s a little lobby next to the platform that is “closed for remodeling” because the administration had to choose the worst time of the year to modernize the cozy little lounge. The platform you are currently shivering on was renewed by the Gojo Family almost two years ago, upon the arrival of their heir. The outline and build of the little ticket booth attached to the side of the station is reminiscent of the village props you saw at The Nutcracker the winter before. It’s too fancy for such a little spot outside of a small town like yours, too opulent for a place that’s not used as much anymore, but it’s a nice view you appreciate. However, all the cutesy and intricate carving does next to nothing to shield you from the cold. You heard the Mayor refused the Gojos’ offer to donate a proper train station and you can’t help but resent him too. After all, his pride is costing you your body temperature.

You nuzzle further into your clothes, pressing yourself against the column at another hit of wind. When you first arrived, the nice lady at the booth had offered you a place inside while you waited, but the space was already cramped enough with just one person in it, so you had to politely decline. It might have been a good decision considering she is currently nursing a cigar and likely emitting more fumes than the train you are waiting for. Right now, you can barely see her silhouette through the window with all the smoke condensed into the little booth. You have the itch to tap on the glass to see if she hasn’t passed out. Maybe if she is still conscious you can walk back your decision and ask for a little place in there with only your nice perfume and healthy lungs to pay the price.

As you take a hesitant step towards the impromptu smokehouse, your attention is caught by a distant whistle, the telltale sound of a locomotive approaching. You perk up, waddling further into the platform to take a look as the sound of the machine gets louder. Indeed, the outline of the wine red train greets you between smog and frosty wind and you sigh, retreating once more to your waiting place.

“About time,” you huff.

Satoru left two weeks ago for a series of meetings with some higher ups from the Church. He called you every other day, mostly to nag or entertain himself.

You don’t ask too much about what goes in there nor does he go into detail, he only ever talks about them to complain. Sometimes you think he has caught on to how much you truly dislike most of them and you are the only person he can sincerely unload his grievances with.

As expected, only Satoru is getting off in this station. Your eyes meet through the window as he stands in the door waiting for it to open. His eyes widen for a second but crinkle immediately after as he smiles, all perfect teeth, mouthing something you can’t quite understand. You wave at him with a smile, cheeks feeling suddenly warm despite the cold.

You point at your wrist while you lift a brow but it’s hard to keep the stern expression when the uncomfortable fluttering in your stomach makes you nauseous.

You step back as the doors open and stand there, changing your weight from one foot to the other as he gets off, sturdy suitcase in hand. He doesn’t even take two steps into the platform before he leaves his luggage on the floor, gaze fixed on you. Someone that appears to be a young train worker, judging by the uniform, is trailing behind him with a bunch of boxes that Satoru ends up maneuvering in one hand after he places the suitcase on the floor.

Before the young boy can say something else, Satoru shoves one of the little boxes in his hands with a loud thank you. The boy blinks and bows his head awkwardly, a low expression of confused gratefulness escaping his lips as he retreats. You lift a brow at the display, your own confusion tampering with your smile but Satoru, as always, just returns it wholeheartedly, balancing the boxes on top of his luggage.

“I asked if you missed me,” he says in lieu of a greeting as he straightens up, bright blue eyes regarding you from above.

The color in his gaze somewhat softens thanks to all the white and the gray around. That’s probably how the blue of the seas in the frozen lands far away look like. He is all pale colors, a striking contrast to his black jacket and dark blue scarf and his pink lips. He rarely flushes, but there’s a pleasant blush in his chiseled cheeks from the warmth that hasn’t died down under the harsh wind. He speaks again. And you see the way his lips curl. They look soft and plump as they dance and mold to the words that your cottoned ears can’t quite catch: “…missed”

“I asked if you missed me”

“Huh?” is your elaborate reply.

Satoru’s grin evolves into a chuckle. It’s a pleasant sound that you indeed have missed . Other days, when he directs that sound towards you, you find the sound irritating enough to pretend it doesn’t cave a pit in your stomach. Not today.

Today he extends his arms, his wide form taking up the space with his broad back and his long limbs. You don’t think twice before sinking into him. You have missed him too much for your own good, you resolve, as he squeezes you so tight it steals a breathless huff of a laugh from you.

“Get off…”

Satoru chuckles too, a rumbling sound vibrating against your smothered cheek. His hands don’t go lower than your back, but the feeling of his fingers pressed against you through your clothes projects all over your body.

“Not before you answer,” he adds, against your temple.

“What?”

“If you miss me”

You gulp. It’s only the two of you between the cold and the fog on the platform. “I didn’t hear you say that at all.”

“But I did,” he retorts, leaning back just enough so your eyes meet, “And you still haven’t answered.”

He smells like warmth and caramel. He probably ate sweets onboard and the smell of it swirls along his fresh cologne. Not unpleasant, but sure overwhelming when it’s paired with those intense eyes looking at you.

“So?”

“I didn’t,” you answer. Way too quickly, way before your heart and your brain realize you are lying and make you stutter as punishment.

Satoru smiles lazily, letting you go with a languid movement that has his fingertips sliding off your waist. He tugs at one of the strands of hair hanging at the side of your face instead.

“That’s a shame,” he laments, sighing, puncturing each word with a twirl of his fingers, the start of a shit-eating grin on his lips. “Because I did”

“It’s been two weeks,” you huff, gently pushing his hand away in a lighthearted gesture. You don’t mind his touch at all. Or, you didn't mind it. You are now bothered by the appalling urges born in your core and traveling to your every limp.

“And? That’s more than enough to me,” he switches the grip of his hand to grasp at yours and give it a squeeze. “Believe it or not, I prefer your pretty face over the nagging of our dear church authorities”

“I’m touched,” you deadpan, a little smile tugging at the corner of your lips despite yourself.

Satoru hums. “I am too, considering I wasn’t expecting a welcome back committee”

Your lips part, brows furrowing. “Didn’t you say you wanted me to come!?”

“That was before I realized our lovely weather could turn you into an icicle,” he says, eyes scanning you intently. He takes a few steps forward and places both his hands in your cheeks. You feel yourself stiff. “Although the flush of your face is rather pleasant to look at, there’s no reason for you to stand here and freeze for little ole’ me”

Your frozen hands try to peel away his wrists on instinct. Satoru is touchy, probably more touchy than a priest should be, but he is also more nonchalant than the average gentleman is so you can’t say you aren’t used to it.

It’s the mortifying somersault your stomach does and the warmth that bleeds from your chest to your lower belly like molten what you are not used to. He is not even touching you directly, the fabric of his gloves is less soft than his hands, but it’s warm and kind in comparison to the wind. Nonetheless, the sole implication of him touching you so casually is enough to make you short of breath.

For a few seconds that stretch incredibly long, Satoru rubs your cheeks intently, as if trying to coax the warmth of your blood to bleed into your skin. There’s something in his eyes as a slow, cheeky curve takes place on his lips. You forget the flustered feeling for a moment, but your body stays locked on it, a prickling sensation climbing up your neck as you frown up at him, tugging at his wrists.

“Father?”

Satoru’s well trained to react the exact opposite way to your flustered, hurried flurry. As you jump, he waltzes back in calculated steps, casually sliding his hands down to your shoulders, squeezing them only slightly before taking his hands off you for good. By the time his hands are by his sides, yours are still fidgeting about, tugging at your winter coat.

You turn your face towards the familiar voice and force down the lingering feeling of self-consciousness, sketching a smile that lacks the blinding brightness of the dishonest one Satoru offers to the clueless newcomer.

“Ah, Ijichi, you are finally here!” he announces, eyes crinkling. The cherry on top is, of course, the thunderous clap that accompanies his words. “I started to think you had forgotten about me”

You have known him for almost two years, so you can catch it. The way his smile curves and hardens before it stretches all the way. He seems slightly bothered about something you can only theorize about.

“N-not at all!” Kyotaka bows his head, face a bit flushed because of the cold or because his eyes are also trained in Satoru’s micro-expressions. “Welcome back, Father”

You think you have imagined it, though, because Satoru’s expression is back to his relaxed, jovial façade. Or maybe it never really changed. You try not to stare too long or think about his face too hard lately.

“C’mon Ijichi!” he protests, “I’m not wearing the habit right now! We can be a bit flexible”

Ijichi is not deterred, sharing a look with you as a resigned, little smile grazes his lips. He is one of the very few people that has fallen victim to Satoru’s overly familiarity and, just like most, he is not playing along. That always makes you consider if you should also be more mindful of the difference in your positions, but Satoru’s arm casually slinging around your shoulders chases any further reflection away.

Ijichi is abruptly intercepted by one of Satoru’s arms as well when he steps closer to retrieve some of the boxes laying over Gojo’s luggage and you can see the way his shoulders fall in a reluctant acceptance. His glasses are crooked now by the unexpected motion but he makes no effort in shrugging Gojo as the latter pats his back energetically. You share a look once more.

“I-ji-chi! Guess who was freezing on this platform, waiting for me?” Satoru asks, squeezing his hold on you as he rhythmically pats Ijichi’s frame. “Certainly not you!”

At that, Ijichi’s resigned face tenses back to his default expression, a mix of mortification and surprise in his widened eyes.

“I a-apologize, I wasn’t aware you were coming here as well! I would have offered you a lift!”

“Oh, see? You are so formal with me but you call her by her name!”

You both ignore Satoru as you shrug his arm off your shoulders, offering Ijichi an appeasing smile, lifting a hand in a dismissive gesture.

“Don’t worry about it, I didn’t know you were picking him up either,” you reply earnestly, brushing your hair out of your face as you start to walk, “I think it’s his fault”

As Kyotaka takes the boxes Satoru brought with him, he regards you with a look that seems suspiciously close to a silent agreement. Once again, both of you ignore Gojo’s whines, moving along the platform until he desists on his protests and easily falls into step with you, suitcase in tow.

“I’m glad Ijichi and you have found friendship, but I don’t appreciate you bonding over disregarding me” is what he says, with a suffering sigh that evolves into a little smile when you eye him up.

“I’m sure making everything about you is a sin” you comment lightheartedly and Satoru rolls his eyes. “For your information, Kyotaka and I have been friends for a while and agreeing on your obnoxiousness is not the reason our friendship begun”

“But your blatant animosity is what makes it thrive,” Satoru points out, with an accusing finger. “It’s the same thing with Sister Uta–”

“Is your nagging my reward for picking you up at the train station?” you inquire. “I should have stayed warm and cozy at home”

“You waited for me. If we want to get technical, my dear sister, Ijichi is the one picking me up.”

He watches the beginning of an indignant protest in your face, to which he walks back his teasing statement and raises a calming hand. “Both of which I deeply appreciate,” he adds, and there’s a softness in his honest smile that mellows you down enough, until he pokes at you once more. “A good Christian doesn’t expect anything in return for a good deed, anyway” he chirps. “God shall provide”

“Good thing I’m not a Christian then,” you retort and Satoru huffs a laugh, shutting it too quickly in favor of shaking his head in disapproval. “So you shall provide”

“I’m not but God’s humble messenger,” Satoru bows his head, eyes glinting as he regards you “So consider the souvenir I brought God’s way of acknowledging your selfless act”

He is serious, but there’s an amused tilt to his gentle smile that warms and softens you up enough to forget about the banter and grin earnestly.

After a silent look that lingers enough for the prickling feeling in your face to make a comeback, you simply turn your face to the front. By your peripheral vision, you notice Satoru’s gaze linger just a few seconds more before he follows your lead. You both keep walking side by side, arms brushing at every swing. Your throat closes up and you focus on ahead.

Ijichi is a fast-walker by nature, you have learned, and you saw him hurry his step as Satoru reached your side with long strides a few moments ago. If Satoru wanted, he could outpace you and Ijichi with ease, but he has decided to linger beside you and you soon realize there’s a reason beyond any friendly banter or the announcement of any souvenir.

You step over a branch peeking through the melting snow on the ground and that’s when he speaks.

“The snow is finally melting” he whispers, “I’m relieved”

There’s a sympathetic inflexion on his voice that’s not lost to you. The same off-handed tone present on his words these last two weeks through calls and letters. You lean against him almost on instinct, shoulder surprisingly at ease as it bumps against his arm. “Me too”

On a personal level, being friends with Satoru means a lot of things and has plenty of implications you don’t want to get at most of the time. You were both relieved and saddened by his absence during the last snow storms of this winter which tells you enough about the dichotomy that persists in your relationship. It’s easier to dwell on it during this season, which is why you occupy yourself like a maniac during it, which is why you cling to any semblance of sun or warmth amidst the cold.

The car ride is silent enough, the soft sound of the wheels scraping against the road lulling you as you lean against the window, eyes chasing any rays peeking through the clouds, even if you have to narrow your eyes at the unexpected force of a sun recovering its strength.

“Hey,” Satoru’s voice is soft, a callback to the time and space you are in right now, tugging you away from cruel memories.

He offers you his hand, without a glove. Long and pretty and pale. Warm as you press your hand over it. “The other one too”

That’s when you notice he took both his gloves off and, as he envelops your hands with his, your thoughts linger on how warm and soft and soothing his skin is.

When he rubs his palms over your cold, trembling fingers, he triggers a scorching heat in your hands and your arms and your whole being. “Your hands are freezing,” he says, none the wiser to your melting insides. “I noticed earlier, you weren’t wearing gloves, or a scarf”

There’s more than a hint of disapproval in his tone. For real this time. Not like the one he uses to half-heartedly scold your thinly-veiled anti-church sentiments.

“I-I forgot”

Does he know your mouth feels dry and cottoned? Can he notice the way your breath catches in his throat at his proximity, or the way your heart skips at every motion of his thumbs over the back of your hands?

“You shouldn’t have walked there with this weather” Satoru whispers, and there’s something in his eyes that goes beyond the earnest care you have grown acquainted with. “You are not even properly clothed for it,” he hums, there’s a bit of the teasing back that gets lost on the deep look in his eyes.

You don’t even know what to make of it.

It’s like that one time, over a year ago.

Just like his voice grabbed you away from the claws of the cruel, painful past, his eyes push you back into that void, except in a kinder, warmer part of it.

The train ride to the next city and the memory of the gorgeous display on stage.

It’s a nice memory.

Nevermind the mortifying discoveries about yourself that trip uncovered.

Absolutely not. Because it is the beautiful memory of your first ever trip to a professional ballet production, a long-time dream, the one guilty of the fluttering sensation in your stomach.

Not the memory of the seating booth in the train back home feeling strangely suffocating, or his hands over your skin, trying to cool away a fever you couldn’t get rid of. A fever and itch that has been chasing you ever since you sat way too close in the same room, the same bed.

That’s not it.

It’s the pretty parts, the softer parts you should focus on because it is a nice memory, one that is not tainted by the origins of the crude ruminations that keep you awake at night to this day. Not at all.

“I wanted to,” you say with a shrug. “To go there, I mean.”

To wait for you. To see you again.

Satoru hums, blowing hot air into your fingertips. Your whole being rattles.

“You should have waited for me at the church, then” he whispers. His lips are inches away from your hands, you almost want to stretch your fingers, just to try–

“I don’t like to go there when it’s empty,” you respond, voice steadier than your beating heart.

“It’s never empty,” he replies, thumbs massaging up to your fingertips, squeezing them for barely a second. “It’s the house of God, he is always there”

He isn’t. And you aren’t either. What’s the point? But you don’t say that, you don’t say anything more. You almost feel like you don’t need to, because Satoru smiles at you then, and it’s almost sad.

You feel you might be privy to what most people in town are not. Your friendship with Satoru didn’t blossom out of shared faith or thrived because of your trust in him as a recipient of God. Quite the contrary. It was born despite your reservations and your disagreements. As such, you are allowed to see beyond the charming, quick-witted, perfect priest image he projects for all believers to see. For you, he is equally if not more charming and wiser when he is “just Satoru” but you won’t ever tell him that out loud.

Instead, you let your shared secrets and time together speak for you. He knows a lot about you. You know a lot about him. Or so you think.

Satoru has always given you the impression of false openness. He makes people, you included, feel as if he is sharing a lot, but most of the time, it’s just superficial lore or inconsequential sentiments.

You don't usually pressure him to share anything beyond what he usually does, but there’s a trust that has been nurtured during your time together that has given you both a space to share what you both know is no common knowledge. He doesn’t need to tell you “I have never told this to anyone” but you have learned to recognize when it’s the case. You know when it’s something he wouldn’t share with the world.

It is often, though, that you get the impression that these secret things have been shared before with someone else out there. There’s something about his speech, the careful distant expression on his face that betrays a sense of dejavu or melancholy that disappears as soon as it appears, between a blink and another. He has travelled the world and he has confessed his sins often. It could be any person out there, a priest or God himself.

Who knows? You don’t push. You never do. After all, there is a whole story you haven’t shared with him. And you don’t think you will soon. He has the right to have his secrets too, and despite the big chunk of your life that remains hidden close to your chest, you bet he has way more secrets than you do.

You wear your heart in your sleeve, he doesn’t. You could be fooled by his easy smile and his running mouth, though, like everyone else.

And you are.

It seems rather meaningless, but in retrospect, this little thing that Satoru willingly withholds from you unravels the whole mess and tells you more about all the things he doesn’t tell you.

At some point, it becomes public knowledge that a newly ordained priest will come to your little town. The people are concerned their angel darling of a Father is being moved away. But it doesn’t seem to be the case, as one particular Sunday, Satoru addresses the whispers and concerns from the altar with good humor.

That’s how you find out, like everyone else.

Kento Nanami, a priest from the same college as Satoru, will become part of the little community.

When you question Satoru about it later, ignoring his who-know-what attempt at explaining checkers to you, he sighs, shoulders falling. It is so different from the usual flair he would answer you with, he seems almost defeated for a second, the flames of the chimney of his office flickering all over his face, raising his high cheekbones further.

“We used to be together in the seminary,” he finally says.

Satoru doesn’t talk much about the seminary. It’s one of the things he pretends he enjoys being open about except all he has ever told you has to do with the multiple headaches he induced on everyone around him.

“But,” you say, leaning forward in your seat. You try to ignore the way Satoru’s foot brushes against yours as he shifts and stretches his legs under the table. “The people say he is newly ordained”

“Ah, our lovely town is as adept in gossiping as it is in their daily praying,” Satoru comments, propping his chin over his hand with a lazy tilt of the head, a shaper one on his lips . “He is.”

You don’t need to do the math for that one. It doesn’t add up.

“But if he was with you–”

“He left,” Gojo cuts you off with a bit of a bored, resigned expression. “Then he came back.”

He is not even hiding his unwillingness to share any details. The tense smile is the same he uses when he wants to cut a conversation short. It’s the first time he has used it with you.

And it’s the first time you decide to press, as well.

“Why did he leave?”

Satoru takes a few seconds to respond, eyes focusing on the dancing flames in the chimney, gaze concerningly distant. For a moment, you think he might tell you it’s none of your business. Strictly speaking, he would be right.

“Some people aren’t made for it,” he whispers, in the most monotone voice you have ever heard from him. It brings a chill down your spine, suddenly feeling an infinite wall rise between you. You feel you might reach out to touch him and you won’t be able to snatch him away from whatever place he is sinking into now.

But, as it always happens, the wall crumbles as soon as it builds. And Satoru, seemingly sensing your unease, seems to snap out of whatever haze the flames have induced on him.

He smiles, again, eyes flickering towards you.

“But don’t worry,” he says, even if you are less worried about priest Nanami’s abilities than you are about the all-seeing eyes that look right through you. “Nanamin is. That’s why he came back.”

Kento Nanami sure seems like the kind of guy made to be a priest. He is sober, proper, humble. Kind and polite at the welcoming party your good-spirited town throws for him. He seems genuinely taken aback by the warm reception, but earnest in his shy appreciation. You study every interaction from afar, just like you did back when Satoru first came to town.

Satoru had been charming, talkative, and full of initiative in every interaction. He had had the hard task of living up to the expectation the priest before him, a beloved local, had risen in forty years of service. Satoru was young. Maybe a bit too young, people had first observed with wariness. But it was that, along with his good-natured humor, his refreshing speech and his impeccable looks, that ended up making him the darling of the town in no time.

Nanami’s regal presence is impeccable as well, in a different way. There’s nothing out of place, not a hair, not a button, not even a blink, as if everything is carefully crafted with little to no effort. And while he doesn’t seem to have the social energy Satoru has delighted everyone with these past years, he appeals to the community all the same with that mix of youth and firmness reminiscent of a soldier. He looks older than Satoru. There’s something in their interactions that suggests something you can’t quite put your finger on. Satoru is cheery, as always. Friendly and familiar with his arm thrown over the other priest’s shoulders, with his animated voice raising over the bustle of the party but something in Nanami’s shoulders remains tense in a way they weren’t in any other interaction.

It’s so weird once you see it.

It could be simple shyness at Satoru’s familiarity, but he doesn’t seem shy or flustered. You don’t even know if, judging by his stern expression, he is even capable of it.

It’s seems there’s a world they are part of you are not privy to. That’s probably the case. Priesthood and seminary life it’s not something you ever can or want to fully comprehend.

But, despite whatever weird energy surrounding them, they make for a nice picture, standing side by side, overlooking the party and the towners from the first landing of the stairs leading up to the church. The single photographer from the local paper thinks the exact same, snapping a shot with little warning. It captures Satoru leaning towards Nanami, a smile frozen midway as the flash explodes in their faces.

Nanami is tall, but looking at them like this, you can truly put into perspective how tall Satoru truly is, his shoulder some inches above the other man’s.

No matter, you have to lean your head back to look at the two of them properly.

Kento or “Nanamin” is polite enough to stay quiet through Satoru’s enthusiastic introduction but it’s soon clear to you that he is barely tolerating the other’s incessant, loud chatter right into his ear. He still smiles, bows his head at you, as he introduces himself as if Satoru hadn’t done it for him over three times already. There’s a distant echo in your head that bothers you and there’s a weird feeling in your chest as you catch Nanami’s eyes looking at you as if he is trying to decipher a puzzle himself.

“Sorry if I overstep but, have we met?” he finally asks.

Satoru finally pauses beside you, only then paying attention to the fact that Nanami is not listening to his vibrant spiel, but he doesn’t seem baffled, face dropping to a rather curious, questioning glance more for Nanami than for yourself. Your smile doesn’t waver, tensing just the slightest bit as the echo in your head raises its volume.

“I don’t think so, no” you say.

Just like you did almost two years ago, when Satoru first came to the church, you leave the party early and find yourself pulled towards the limit of the woods at the outskirts. Once you step onto the only proper road leading to the next town, your eyes focus on the giant oak tree that stands at the top of the one little hill overseeing your step. The path is painful yet soothing in its familiarity, your heels digging in the dirt and light layer of snow enveloping the steep as you balance your weight and propel forward.

As you make your way to the top, the big, old oak greets you with a rustle of leaves. The leaves persevere during winter, for a reason you would like to think you know.

You feel your face warm with the effort and you can see your breath escape in little puffs of hot air that evaporate into the frosted wind as you walk towards the wide, rough trunk, and press your cheek against it.

You lean on the trunk and focus on the sounds coming from within, the endless shifting of it akin to breathing. Even if you wanted to hug it, you wouldn’t be able to. The immensity of it makes it impossible. It’s ironically cruel. You can’t hug him again and you can’t hug the one breathing thing that reminds you of him either.��

“I’m sorry I haven’t visited,” you say, closing your eyes. You can almost pulsing with life against your face. One of your hands curls over the trunk. “I missed you today.”

At this time of the year, you are forced to confront plenty of things. You thought you had survived this winter without having to think, but there’s a sweet and painful song of melancholy in the air that follows you through these events.

It makes you think again about how you would have forgiven him, if he came to town like Satoru did. Like Nanami did. You would have forgiven him. Even if he was clad in priest robes and stood over the altar with the pride of a soldier of God. You would have forgiven him even with the sting of all the broken childish promises.

“It would have been okay, at the end,” it's the only other thing you say out loud.

It’s a sad and embarrassing thought, that you don’t have to say much. Wherever he is now, he knows what he didn’t know before. And everyone knows too. Everyone that loves you and loves him knows. That the pain has subsided and dulled but lingers like a chronic nightmare that sharpens every so often.

That you spent years mad at him and now you can only be mad at yourself. You have matured and you see things in a different light now, left to wonder if you , rather than him, could have done anything in another way.

It’s sad and embarrassing when Satoru meets you at the entrance road to the main street, concern or pity barely veiled as he heaves, cheeks rosy, his rebellious white hair slightly dancing at the tune of the frosty wind, all that betraying the hurried steps he took upon realizing your absence.

You offer him a little smile, finally having cried what you had to cry these past days, your head doesn’t feel as heavy with dark thoughts anymore. You can leave your penances with the oak tree.

“Did my mother ask you to come look for me?” you ask, not thinking twice before hooking your arm with the one he is offering you.

Satoru stares at you intently, head tilted as you both turn back towards the main square in a dance you don’t have to rehearse anymore. It feels natural, walking with him like this.

“More like I offered,” he replies, eyes finally focusing ahead. “Watching her pace around pale with worry, I had to ask what was her cause of concern”

You feel a pinch of guilt.

“She—”

Satoru spares you from having to offer an excuse or apology.

“She knew where you were, but she was worried you would stay there until dark so I told her it would be better for me to bring you back.”

You sigh, head leaning against his arm, gaze focused on the thin mantle of snowflakes in the ground.

“I didn’t need to stay for long.”

“That’s a good thing.” You don’t know if you imagine it, but you can feel Satoru speak against the crown of your head. “It’s still pretty cold out here.”

You answer with a hum, hiding your face into his arm, even his jacket is impregnated with his cologne. Moments like this are met with such intense yearning everything else you feel along with it melts into a pool of sweet resignation.

“You know you can talk to me,” he says, stopping on his tracks. You inhale a bit more of his perfume and the winter air before looking up at him.

You know he can probably see the red trails and rims that expose your silent, lonely tears from earlier but you don’t mind. He looks into your eyes, brows furrowing just a bit, before he shifts his body to face you as well. The snow crunches slightly under his boots.

“What?” you ask.

He raises his hand and reaches for your face. Your eyes flutter in anticipation of his touch and that’s when you feel the phantom pressure of his fingertips against your heavy eyelashes. There’s a sole huff of air that resembles a laugh escaping from his lips, in tandem with the sigh that escapes yours and his soft smile and sad gaze is all you see as you open your eyes.

“There’s frost in your eyelashes,” he whispers, his thumb barely grazing the apple of your cheek, probably following the abandoned path a tear left behind.

Your breath hitches and a surge of adrenaline makes you turn your face to the side, just in time for Satoru to caress your cupid bow and the curve of your upper lip. Your eyes flutter close. It’s only for half a millisecond and his hand retreats as if you were burning him, curling on itself in the air, hovering over your face. Not a sound comes from him.

“I know,” you breathe out.

“Hm?”

“I know I can talk to you,” you clarify, blinking up at him with a soft tilt of your head and in your lips.

He doesn’t escape your gaze, and you can see yourself reflected on his darkened, tempestuous blue eyes.

“But you won’t,” he says.

“Not about this,” you reply honestly.

“But we are–”

You cut him off, before you can hope, protest or rejoice on whatever epithet escapes his lips.

“I know,” you unhook your arm from his, pressing a hand over his forearm. “But you don’t tell me every single thing about you either,” you squeeze slightly and you can feel his muscles clench under the pressure. “Do you?”

After seconds that feel like minutes stretching, he presses his hand over yours and squeezes in a thousand unspoken words.

“No.”

“And that’s okay.”

After all, there are things you don’t want him to know about, even if a part of you thinks he does already.

A part of you wants to believe he understands.

But how could he?

Someone like him can’t never lose, not anything nor anyone.

Your mother forgives your brief disappearance and requires you to run a few errands to pay back any concern you may have caused, mostly to soothe any lingering guilt from your part. It’s always like this between you both, the silent agreements and the subtle conversations.

You can talk about pain freely but you are candid enough about it for her not to worry about you letting it eat away at you in silence.

“Did the visit help?” she asks, hands busy and eyes fixed on you, as you wait patiently, leaning against the kitchen counter.

“Hm,” you nod, a faint smile. “It had been a while, I think that’s what I needed”

“I know you usually like to go up there alone,” she starts, “but please try not to linger too close to sunset, the air gets colder and the path is too dark for my peace of mind”

“You know I don’t like to walk in the snow at night.”

Your mother’s eyes trail away from you. “Right.”

“I’m okay,” you say, voice not wavering.

“I know you are,” she replies, looking back at you with love and concern mingling in her pupils. Your throat would close up at the sight on worse days.

Today, though, you smile at her with veiled gratitude and a hint of apology as she hands you a knitted bag, heavy with homemade goods.

“You know,” you point out, weighing it in your hands with a pensive pout in your lips. “I think you spoil that man way too much.”

“Those are for Father Nanami as well,” your mother protests, lifting her brow at you, affronted. “And ‘that man’ is our priest”

“It’s just Satoru,” you said. A slip up that you paid mind to a little too late.

“Precisely because it’s Father Satoru,” your mother replies, casual, as swift as her hands rearranging the last few envelopes. Her brief yet disapproving sideways glance is the only other indication that she has taken note of your disrespectful nonchalance. “He is a friend.”

“It doesn’t matter,” was the answer that made its way to your tongue. It didn’t come out of your lips though, it was too much of a lie.

“He should be thankful we prepared him anything at all.”

The piercing glare your mother throws your way is enough to seal your lips shut and make you swallow your complaint. You smile innocently, fluttering your eyelashes.

“Last time that look worked on me was when you were nine years old”

You don’t receive yet another earful regarding your lack of respect towards the so-called angel of the town, though, so you are thankful. Your mother is aware of the particular familiarity between Satoru and you and while you both have talked about the level of casualness you are okay with, she insists you follow the proper etiquette with a man of God.

“Smile when you deliver this,” she reminds you, planting an obnoxious kiss on your cheek. “We made such an effort putting this together,” your mother comments, eyes much softer than her admonishing voice. The ghost of a smile in her lips suggests a tease that you decide to ignore pointedly, your cheeks flaring. “Presentation is everything.”

You roll your eyes, making your way to the door, “Right...” you drawl.

“Don’t forget your scarf”

You hum in response, stopping at the foyer and grabbing it from the rack next to the door. As you tie it around your neck, a thought makes you pause.

“Mom?”

She peeks into the foyer. “Yes?”

You grab the door handle, eyeing her just briefly before twisting the knob.

“Did you tell Satoru?”

As you open the door, the cold wind blows into the warmth of the house. Your hair waves with it.

“About the tree?”

It’s always like this between you both, the silent connection and the subtle communication.

“About why I go there,” you say.

Your mother is quick to answer both with words and with a firm shake of her head.

You almost regret asking when you see the sorrowful lines that map her face.

“Of course not, it’s not my place to tell.”

You nod, smiling a bit. “Okay.”

As you step out, her voice reaches your ears. “But–“

You look over your shoulder. She looks sheepish, hands dancing on her lap. “Don’t you think it would help? Talking about it with him ? He is your friend and he is closer to God.”

You let out a soft laugh, not unkind. “I think it would be the most awkward conversation to have.”

Whenever you walk towards the parish, you think of Satoru. At the beginning, it was out of curiosity and wariness, as you imagined and played around with the endless possibilities of the mystery of his personality. Now, it is unbearable. The sense of anticipation that used to precede your meetings has mixed in with a yearning, an itch that you can barely scratch and which nature makes your stomach twist.

You are aware there’s an inherent wickedness permeating your feelings now, that most of your thoughts linger close to the line of impropriety and don’t reciprocate Satoru’s unconditional respect for you.

Because, even if he is unconventional in more ways than one, especially in comparison to the strict mold a catholic priest is expected to fit in, there’s nothing about him that suggests a questionable morality. Even with the way he is always getting close, shimming in your head and personal space, talking your ear off about everything and nothing and making jokes that walk and tether the line of strict propriety. And even with your proximity and the familiarity that allows him to touch you freely, there’s a delicate balance and respectful boundaries in your relationship.

His hands never wander or linger beyond the socially acceptable, invisible limits society has mapped a woman’s body with. The looks he gives you, while filled with open interest and regard, are void of a dark, twisted intention you have seen other men possess.

You are the one that avoids looking at him too much or staring at his eyes for too long, fearing the kind of expression you will see reflected on his all-seeing eyes. You are the one terrified about the possibility of him reading the hidden thoughts swirling in the depths of your brain.

The innocence of your friendship has mixed in with a dark pull that makes you crave Satoru’s proximity in a way you shouldn’t dare to entertain. It’s a cruel irony. Even beyond all the key reasons why your fascination should remain concealed behind platonic affections.

It’s wrong.

For the first time in the entire winter, you feel grateful when a whip of harsh, cold air hits your body. It’s heaven’s warning. A way to tell you to focus on the goosebumps instead of whatever black holes your mind is spiraling into.

You walk up the last steps leading to the entrance of the parish feeling nauseous, fighting and locking away the last thoughts. You inhale deeply before walking through the open doors, your nose filled instantly with the sweet smell of incense as the muscle memory takes over and you sign the cross over your upper body. It’s true when they say the church is truly never empty, and not because of the hypothetical presence of a higher being, but because it’s always open. During the day hours, there are always a few believers praying or waiting for a confession, head down, silently holding a conversation with either God or themselves.

Your eyes scan the few people scattered in the pews and you are not surprised to realize you are familiar with the back of the heads of half your neighbors. You walk to one side, moving along the rows of pews and nodding politely to those that are alerted by the movement in their peripheral. Nonetheless, as you get closer to the partly hidden hallway that leads to Satoru’s office and the sacristy, a smaller frame catches your attention. He is sitting right at the edge of the pew closest to the hallway leading to the offices. You walk closer and look over the scrawny shoulder, making sure he is not praying.

“Yuuji?” you whisper.

The boy raises his head, turning his gaze away from the missal on his lap. You smile down at the way his slightly bewildered expression morphs into a wide grin.

“Miss—!” he whispers back.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, ruffling his hair.

He gestures for you to get closer. When you do, he leans forward.

“I’m here to tell Father Gojo something”

You raise a brow, leaning back just enough to admire the anticipation in his expression.

“Father Gojo said I could be an altar boy next Sunday if Grandpa agreed,” he chirps.

You resist the urge to raise both eyebrows. You would think Yuuji is too young to be an altar boy, and you know Satoru does too, having denied his multiple, enthusiastic and incessant requests. Nonetheless, you also know Wasuke is spending more time at the hospital lately and that might be enough reason for him and Satoru to reconsider. Yuuji seems excited enough though. He thinks Satoru is the coolest guy around and has been trailing after him like a baby duck for a while.

“Let me guess,” you lean down with a conspiratorial whisper. “He said yes”

“Yes!”

Yuuji’s outburst bounces off the old rock walls but he doesn’t seem to mind it. You notice some people looking in your direction, raising their heads from their silent prayer with varying degrees of bewilderment. You shrug at them, an apologetic grimace, before turning back to Yuuji.

“Oh my” you huff out a laugh, keeping your voice at whisper-level. “Congrats on the promotion!”

Yuuji almost bounces off the pew but his voice is lower this time. “Thank you.”

“What’s your salary?”

“I-I don’t think I have one,” he perks up, intrigued.

“You should ask for one”

“Oh,” the boy doesn’t even question you, but furrows his brows a bit after a moment. “It shouldn’t be money, though”

You nod, mimicking his serious expression. “Of course.”

Yuuji’s legs swing over the edge of the pew as he looks at the bright colored windows.

“Movies” he suggests, doe eyes looking for your approval.

You bite back a smile but click your tongue and reign in your expression for the sake of the serious aura around him.

“He already lends them to you,” you tap your chin before your expression brightens. “I will help you negotiate weekly cinema tickets and all-you-can-eat ice cream”

Yuuji’s eyes are bright and wide as a gasp escapes his lips. “You would?”

“Uh-huh,” you wink, straightening back to your height. “I’m sure Father Satoru will honor this deal”

Yuuji beams up at you, body almost bouncing off the pew. You giggle, ruffling his hair before fishing some baked goods from your knitted bag.

“For you and Gramps”

“Thank you!” He promptly opens the envelope with enthusiasm and eyes at them. He sniffs unapologetically, “They smell so good! Did you make them?”

“My mom and I did,” you confirm, gently pressing your hand over his so he closes the paper. “They are better hot, so don’t open until you eat them”

“I will go eat them now!” he declares, clutching into them as if you would change your mind and snatch them away. “Outside,” he adds.

You laugh, propping a hand over your hip. “Wait, don’t you want to come to see Father Satoru?"

Yuuji is already sliding off the bench. “He told me to wait a few minutes, he is busy having a grown up talk with Father Nanamin!”

“Nana—“ you trail off. “Isn’t it Nanami?”

The young boy shrugs, already munching on a cookie despite his earlier promise. “Father Gojo calls him Nanamin and Father Nanamin says it was okay if I called him that. He doesn’t seem to like when Father Gojo does, though”

“I see.”

“You are a grown-up, so you can talk to them now,” Yuuji instructs sagely, pointing towards the hallway.

You salute, “Understood, boss”

Yuuji waves at you before skipping out the church. You observe his bouncing frame until it disappears beyond the entrance and you shake your head fondly, before turning around. As you pass the side of the altar, your gaze lingers in the Virgin Mary figure, the flickering flames of the candles at her feet dancing along her body. The candle you lit up many years ago should be right there.

With that last thought, you look forward and slide into the hallway.

At this point, you are familiar with every single corner of this place. Satoru gave you a personalized tour last year, almost scandalized at the thought of you not being familiar with the parish you had grown up in. So, w ith time, you found yourself feeling comfortable enough to explore around on your own, mostly to pass the time while Satoru is attending his priestly duties.

You have grown familiar with every nook and cranny of Satoru’s office as well and you know you can waltz right into it when the door is left ajar. Which is always.

Well, almost.

Strangely enough, you are greeted with the side of a closed door. You frown a bit, eyes fixed on the engraved name at the door. Satoru Gojo. You raise your hand to knock, fearing to walk into a serious conversation you shouldn’t overheard. Something makes you hesitate, though. Probably the hushed whispers traveling through the door.

You stand there, even if you know you shouldn’t.

“…it’s been almost seven years.”

“Didn’t know there’s a rule that says I should stop caring after–”

It takes you a few seconds to realize but what you assumed was a casual conversation sounds way more heated than that. You can’t always quite tell what’s being said, but there are moments the whispers evolve into louder

“….I’m just saying, a long time has passed, maybe you should let it go.”

“You want me to forget it!?”

“I’m not saying you should forget it, but God knows moving on is the best thing we can do. I did–”

“Jesus Christ,” Satoru huffs, “don’t you dare lecture me about moving on, you are here .”

You are so baffled by the fact that Satoru’s voice has the capacity to reach that level of defensive hostility that you don’t quite register how long the silence stretches after his last retort.

“I thought you had matured,” Nanami finally says and the casual coldness in his voice sends a shiver down your spine. “But you are the same impulsive, hot-headed, imprudent kid from all those years ago. Be mindful of your role.”

“Yeah, well, what the hell do you think I have been doing?” Satoru’s voice raises further, a sardonic tone permeating every word. “I’m so close to–”

“You have plenty of people depending on you,” Nanami cuts you off. “If you care about them, you will move cautiously.”

There’s an uncomfortable silence after that. You shift the weight from one foot to another, raising your hand to knock.

“And [Name]–“ Nanami starts.

And you startle.

Nonetheless, Satoru clicks his tongue. You can hear him pacing around in the room. Or it might be Nanami.

“Don’t even bring her up,” the former hisses, in a fiery protest. “Don’t even start. We are friends”

“It’s not that, Satoru, she’s—”

“I’m done with—”

You can barely register the sudden movement, a surge of warmth and a woody, earthy aroma hitting you right in the face. Your eyes focus on the wall of Satoru’s office. Opposite of you, there’s an ample bookshelf of the same expensive yet old wood of the desk. There are no windows and the lights are out which makes the flames cast shadows and dancing figures all over the room and on Nanami’s surprised face as he leans against the desk. “—this.”

You take a stumbling step back when your eyes meet as if the force of it was enough to make you lose balance. Only then, when your eyes run away from his, you find yourself face to face with Satoru Gojo, still with his hand on the knob, the most baffled expression you have ever seen on him. “You—”

“I–” your mouth feels dry, your heartbeats ringing in your ears. “I was just…”

“Not now.”

Whatever fluster, shame or guilt you might have begun to feel instantly evaporates into a cloud of pure befuddlement. Satoru’s face is not a display of perplexity anymore but rather an inexpressive, almost dismissive mask. It’s so foreign it makes you take a step back.

“H–huh?” you let out. “I was just—”

“[Name], I apologize,” he mutters in a tone that doesn’t suggest a hint of regret, “but the confessional opens at ten, so not now.”

“I just wanted—”

“[Name]…” there’s a hint of a plea this time, as he tilts his head to the side and avoids your gaze, as if he is trying to repel you.

Nanami frowns, stepping closer. “Gojo—”

The cloud of bafflement dissipates to expose a mix of indignation and humiliation. It’s the fact that he has never spoken to you like this. Ever. Not until today. You feel yourself ruffle and warm up under his gaze, a glare settling on your eyes.

He opens his mouth again and you clutch the strap of your knitted bag, feeling defensive.

“Gojo,” Nanami speaks, pressing a hand over his shoulder.

Satoru bites his inner cheek but doesn’t say anything else. He shrugs Nanami off after a few seconds, though. You can only observe, trying to wrap your head around what you are seeing and hearing and what you thought you would see and hear and how you imagined your day would go.

You retrace every step in your head as you physically walk back, affronted. Before you can even say anything, though. Before you can defend yourself or protest, something catches your eye.

You wish you had never seen it.

Nanami is wearing a black cassock, just like Satoru is. The clerical collar is pristine and there’s a cross hanging off his neck. It catches the light of the flames in the chimney.

At the left, an ornate badge is proudly fixed against his chest. It’s a beautiful one, the fanciest kind of needlework. And a very familiar one. You have spent hours staring at the embroidery, the design, at the way the crimson and the plum and the gold thread harmonize in an intricate embrace.

All of a sudden, you feel bile rise up your throat.

“[Name]–”

You don’t care if Satoru's tone is kinder this time. The sight surely isn’t.

We recovered a locket, a badge and a cross. The ring is missing.

The words ring in your ears, the voice all too clear after all these years, hands without a body handing you a box too light.

We recovered a locket, a badge and a cross. The ring is missing.

Your hand tugs at the fine chain around your neck, your hand molding around the little case in an anxious grip. Your hand is sweaty and your thumb traces over the curves and lines of the initials engraved on the locket in a silent callback.

“H–hey…”

You turn around without looking back. Your steps are swift, desperate. The hallway seems to stretch on and on and the rest of the church closes in on you as you focus on the light of the outside world ahead. Your hurried steps echo off the walls, the beginning of a sob held back by your tight-sealed lips. You might have heard your name but you don’t mind, you want to keep running until you can finally breathe. Until the light outside erases every memory of the cold winter.

In reality, you run until you physically tire out. Until you are heaving, leaning on your knees, droplets falling from your face and into the snow. They could be tears or sweat, you don’t know.

We recovered a locket, a badge and a cross. The ring is missing.

You might want to retch out of the sickening voice replaying in your head over and over again or because you have moved forward like a mad-woman. Either way, you inhale and exhale as frantically as you have run until the need for oxygen subsides and you don’t have a choice but to kneel down. Your hands and knees are partly buried in the snow.

You hate winter.

It brings cold and sickness and painful memories with it. For you, the worst part of it is the phantom hold that clings and suffocates you like a constricting vine. Trees are still skinny and mostly naked, branches trembling at the wind, bending under the weight of the last snowfall.

All but one.

Your head rises. It’s easy to see it from the bottom of the hill.

Between the leisure movement of a heavy cloud and the other, the sun has started to reach out with its lukewarm rays and, right at the top, the giant oak tree stands proud and imposing. Its monstrous shadow seems to stretch impossibly long, all the way down the hill where it reaches you and envelopes you like a mantle.

“You have finally come back to haunt me”

hi again ฅ^>⩊<^ ฅ i want to thank you for reading all the way to here. You absolutely rock and I'm profoundly flattered. this post is crazy to me because despite my long time in fandom trenches, this is the first time I post a self insert / OC fic aaaaand a fic on tumblr. Kudos to Satoru Gojo and my catholic upbringing for mingling in my brain! Anyway, you probably have more questions than answers and for that I apologize. I feel this introduction is a bit more confusing than anything but that's exactly what I wanted to go after. Hopefully it gives you an idea of the messy state of things. There’s a whole menu of mildly fucked up stuff here and I'm so excited for you to browse it in the upcoming chapters. Anyways! Any doubts you have feel free to drop in the comments or in an ask, I will be more than happy to answer if it's nothing to spoilery :v If you don’t have any questions yet, don’t worry i'm looking forward to read your thoughts and comments or constructive criticism about the chapter as well! Thank you so much for taking the time to give this lil work a chance! Til next time my beloveds ♡ Have a good day/night!

©️ lilactwilights | no repost allowed | likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated!

#a heathen clung to piety #ahctp #jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x yn #gojo x you #priestgojo #fanfiction #fem reader #reader insert #fanfic #jjk #gojo smut #lilactwilights #writing

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billzoned · 1 year ago

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dream praising female reader while fucking her? 👀

tysm for the request <3 and im SOSO SORRY FOR THE WAIT, i literally got this request SO long ago but i couldnt bring myself to write it. also sorry if the format's wonky, its my first time writing fully on pc...

ps. sorry it's so short, i couldnt think of much to write for it and idk why. no aftercare written, but im js imagining him running a bath for her afterwards and telling her how good she was for him:((

NOT BETA READ ! NSFW UNDER CUT

it was a longshot; he didn't know if you would be fully into it at first- but it just slipped out, and it went farther than he would have expected.

"god, you're such a good girl f'me. taking my cock so well." he muttered whilst biting your shoulder as an attempt to keep himself grounded as he fucks into you from behind, hearing your moans and mewls. he groans as he feels your cunt flutter around him, an obvious reaction to the way he started praising you all of the sudden.

he was almost surprised, but he took advantage of the new knowledge. "you like it when i call you a good girl, yeah? praising you like the good little slut you are?" he teases. "yes- yes! i do- i- do!! fuuck-!" you manage to make out the response shakily; you were practically fucked dumb in dream's arms.

as dream was consistently praising and degrading you, it felt like hours had gone by; you could barely even make a sound other than moans anymore. it wasn't until dream reached his free hand down to rub your clit that you were brought back to reality. the small bundle of nerves had a dull ache from how many times you've come, but it didn't stop him from making you release over and over. you moan at the unexpected friction coming from dream's fingers, as you feel the oh so familiar feeling of your abdomen tightening, begging for release.

"please- fuck- pleasepleaseplease-! c-can i cum, please i need'a cum.." you beg, your voice getting higher pitched as you get closer and closer to impending release. dream slows his fingers on your clit for a moment, almost contemplating if he should let you cum, or make you wait. but, he decided to be nice this time as he speeds up his fingers once again. "you wanna cum, yeah? then cum, now. cum on my cock like a good girl." all you saw was white as the coil in your stomach snapped abruptly, just mere moments after he finished his sentence. he finished as soon as he felt your walls tighten around him, filling you with his own cum.

ty for reading!! and again, i apologize for how long it took me to get this out. requests are officially, fully open!!

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lvcky-g1rl-syndr0me · 9 months ago

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could you write a quick thing abt hoon and comfort? like the s/o and hoon had an argument and then he makes it up to her. idk if it makes sense but hoon has been running thru my mind lately (never forgetting riki ofc tho)

-⭐️

missed date (request) ♪ park sunghoon

warnings: fluff, comfort, angst if you squint REALLY hard, pet names (angel, babe), gender neutral reader, really bad humor (its completely me), mentions of cuddling, hoon is so sweet :(, i think thats all!

this wasn’t the idea y/n had for the night. it was supposed to be the perfect night. sunghoon was supposed to come over and they were going to cook together and watch movies. that was until he didn’t show up. as y/n ignored the pinging phone, all from sunghoon trying to apologize and explain. the texts ended suddenly, but soon after, a thud comes from the window. what was that? they wonder. they look out the window to see their boyfriend outside, another rock in his hand ready to throw at the window. they open it and yell down at him “what the hell are you doing here sunghoon?”. “to apologize. please let me in y/n it’s really cold. i know im an ice skater and you call me elsa, but the cold does in fact bother me anyway”. they smile faintly at their boyfriends joke. “fine, i’ll be down in a second. go to the door” he smiles up at them as they close the window. they open the door and are immediately pulled into sunghoons arms. "i'm so sorry angel i didn't mean to forget. vocal practice ran late and i was just so tired that i went straight back to the dorm and fell asleep and i didn't wake up to my alarm-" he rambles on trying to explain himself for skipping their date. y/n couldn't help but smile at his adorable, apologetic state. "hey, it's okay hoon. don't worry" they say. "its not okay! you're upset and i'm such a shitty boyfriend!" they feel bad for him as he clearly felt terrible for the accident. they calmly explain to him "babe, im not upset. it was an innocent mistake. i'd much rather you get rest and accidentally miss our date, then not get rest and come tired or completely forget and we fight. its okay. i'm not mad.". "are you sure you're not mad?" he asks. "not at all" they say, smiling faintly at their worried boyfriend. he responds with a smile back, the adorable fangs that had charmed y/n peeking through. "come on, i expect serious cuddles after our missed date" y/n half jokes, "i couldn't think of a better way to make it up to you" sunghoon replies, the adoring tone clear in his voice. he loved his partner, and he couldn't think of a better way to spend his night then cuddling and watching movies with the person he loved most in this world.

masterlist

luckys note!: THROWING ROCKS AT YOUR WINDOW AT MIDNIGHTTT is what this imagine reminded me of and i LOVE it. if there's any 5sos fam reading this: hey im one of you🤭 but i hope this was good this is like my first written imagine so it might be a bit wonky LMAOO so im open to ways to improve my writing!! i hope you all enjoyed and i hope this is what you were looking for ⭐️ !!! thank you sososo much for your request i very much giggled and smiled a lot while writing this

(📍) PERM TAGLIST IS OPEN!

@siya-bean @ivyannemarie

(🎀) ANON/EMOJI LIST IS OPEN!

⭐️

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tommysm0ondust · 11 months ago

Text

OK SO NINJAGO DRAGONS RISING SEASON 2 SPOILERS IF YOU HAVENT SEEN IT DO NOT READ RAHHHH

ahem.

AHHHHHHHHHHH OMGOMGOMGOMG

I loved it so much guys you don't get it

GUYS. COLE AND GEO???? OMG??????? THE FLASHBACKS WHILE LOOKING LOVINGLY AT THE PHOTO??? THEM HOLDING HANDS AGH SOMEONE KNOCK ME OUT BEFORE I EXPLODE

Kai learning how to do rising dragon while thinking of him and Nya as kids. and then Nya doing the same later. sobbing uncontrollably rn.

also I have something IMPORTANT to say Abt my boy Jay

I've seen ppl say like "omg why is he so stupid lol" but no. no you guys just don't get him like me. I am him and he is me guys trust me.

but no fr like, him being terrified that this orb in front of him knows he has powers that he's hiding. he seemed TERRIFIED. he is obviously scared of what ppl will think of him.

like he does not want ANYONE knowing he has powers and I don't think it's like a "ooh I'm powerful but I can't show them bc they'll know how cool and powerful I am" or smth.

I don't think he's using them at all.

he's SCARED of his powers. and he's scared of what it will do to others

so since I'm guessing the jay villain rumors™ are happening probs, it will be so easy to get this man to follow an evil path

either blackmail, or manipulation.

my boy does not know what he's doing and is scared he is easily gonna be controlled and then become a badass villain.

SPEAKING OF HIS POWERS. they seemed like wonky. probs cuz he doesn't remember how to use them, so that means he won't hold back much. because he doesn't know HOW.

Lego pls let Jay murder someone

this turned into a jay rant my apologies

guys I love Arin he's my child actually.

him feeling useless to the team sobs

and then sora helping him so he thinks he did his little spinjitzu thing so he feels better I love them both sm.

there's so much more I could say but my fingers are tired so I'm gonna stop here and continue ranting on another time💔

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emeritusemeritus · 4 months ago

Note

if you’re taking requests can you do fred x artist!reader maybe? it’s okay if not though! (:

Hi love! Let me start by saying I’m sorry that this completely took on a life of its own. I started writing and I couldn’t stop, too engrossed in the story. I wasn’t sure what kind of art you wanted to include so I made the reader a painter/ designer and an all round creative. I’ve sobbed writing this and I’ve even had to split it into two parts because I’ve fallen down a hole and written over 8 thousand words, not joking.

I hope you enjoy! I shall now go and rest 😂🖤

Part 2 will be posted HERE once it is uploaded.

Warnings: ANGST. Sadness, breakups, illusions to cheating, breakup references. Happy ending I promise! Talks of marriage, proposals, Hagrid and his creatures, Fang being the goodest boy. Lots of tears and sadness but it gets better! Not beta read nor spellchecked, apologies for any mistakes. Timeline is a little wonky (picturing it OOTP just before the twins departure but there’s no war/no Umbridge)

Word count: 4.9k [Part 1&2= 8.2k] 😬

The Artist and the Entrepreneur part 1

You walked into your dorm in an exhausted slump, trying desperately not to sigh too loudly of our sheer exhaustion in order to not wake your dorm mates. It was nearly 11:30pm by the time you had made it back to the dorms, having to wake and then calm down the fat lady who was not willing to listen to your explanation of why you were out so late. You needed to bathe and get to sleep, ready for classes the next morning but you could barely function, trying desperately to summon the energy to undress and make your way to the bathrooms. It was a necessary evil but it had to be done and so you dragged your near-lifeless body to the bathroom and began running a bath, which thankfully filled up quickly with almost perfect temperature water. You grimaced as you peeled the uniform away from your body, wincing at a particularly nasty wound on your right forearm which you would attempt to heal after you'd bathed. Your hands were covered in paint, mud and whatever else had made their way under your nails, arms littered with paint splatters and other vague marks.

Sinking down into the water, you forced yourself to stay awake feeling suddenly soothed by the warm water, both physically and mentally. It had been a hard couple of weeks, stretched beyond your means as your timetable suddenly doubled. You were tired, exhausted and still there was another week to go of this madness, but it would all worth it on the end.

You dried quickly, assisting yourself with a flick of your wand and dressed into your pyjamas, hardly managing to scoop up your dirty uniform on your way back to bed.

5am came much quicker than you'd have liked. It was almost as if you'd closed your eyes and opened them again only a minute later. You crawled out of bed trying again to stay silent and reached for the clean set of uniform and robes on the chair beside your bed, kicking the lump of dirty uniform under your bed to deal with later. You slipped into the bathrooms to dress so that you wouldn't wake anyone and slipped down to the common room, pray in that you didn't see anyone on the way. You cast a glance at the boys dormitory staircase and felt a stab of sorrow thinking of Fred and how you'd barely seen him in the past two weeks. You were often gone before breakfast and not back until well past curfew, not that either of the twins ever abided by the rules.

"Oh shush," you said to the fat lady who had begun her usual spiel of sounding the alarm due to you being out of bed out of hours, not listening nor remembering the speech you'd given everyday for the past two weeks as you attempted to sneak out. You couldn't afford to be discovered by the prefects nor any teachers roaming the corridors, as above board as your mission was- you couldn't risk Fred finding out what you were doing.

Sunlight shone through the windows as you made your way around the castle, holding back a shiver at the coldness of the castle in the late March morning, your robes doing very little to shield you from the chill. You crept out of the castle and marvelled at the beautiful first rays of daylight peaking through the trees of the forbidden forest. You looked ahead and saw that smoke was billowing from the chimney of Hagrid's hut, the only sign of life against the otherwise serene backdrop of the forbidden forest. You made your way slowly, enjoying the peaceful walk down to the hut, hoping that Hagrid had put the kettle on in anticipation of your arrival.

"Morning y/n!" Hagrid says with a wide smile, bustling around in the small hut, much too awake for this time in the morning. Fang in stark contrast lay slumped in his bed and half asleep, continuously disturbed by Hagrid's banging. A steaming cup of tea lay waiting for you on the table and you thank him graciously, taking a soothing sip of the hot liquid. You look at the clock on the wall beside the window as see that it's nearly half 5 now, the sun rising in the sky and greeting an almost ethereal light across the magnificent castle, a sight that still amazed you even seven years later.

"Beautiful isn't it?" Hagrid asks, noticing you gazing up at the castle and you share a smile for a moment, the tiredness having faded now thanks to the alarmingly strong cup of tea that you'd now become accustomed to.

"Ready to get to work now?" He asks, watching you drain the last of the tea from the large mug. You try to hide your disappointment from being dragged out once again to the edge of the forest, knowing that you'd signed up for this. You nod with a smile, navigating around the large table as you move towards to door behind Hagrid. You shoot a look towards Fang, wanting to give him a parting stroke but you notice quickly that he's fallen back to sleep and so you leave him alone to snooze, wishing that you could too.

It was nearly half 8 when you walked into the great hall, taking a brief detour to the bathrooms as you washed your hands and to hide any evidence of your morning. Your early start was already catching up to you and you hid a yawn behind the sleeve of your robe as you walked through the doors of the great hall. You checked your robe one last time for any signs of evidence but thankfully you were clear, noticing only a moment later when you took you'll place at the table that there was a great dollop of pint upon your shoe.

"Here she is," George says from across the table, nodding his head towards you as you climbed onto the bench beside Ron in the gap between him and Neville.

"Switch with Y/n Ronald," Fred says from beside him without a hint of a please. Knowing he won't get any manners out of his older brother, Ron complies and shifts up to allow you to sit beside your boyfriend.

"Thanks Ron," you say, trying to hold off the yawn that was threatening to break free at any moment.

"Morning beautiful, you're late," Fred says, his hand slipping across your back as you pour yourself a large glass of pumpkin juice. He frowns at the coldness of your robes beneath his fingers but doesn't say anything. "You overlay again?"

"Yeah," you lie, feeling immediately guilty about the fact. "Snape's set us a load of work, took me ages to figure it out last night. Didn't get a lot of sleep." As if to prove your point, the yawn you'd been suppressing finally escapes with so much force that it makes your eyes water.

You manage to force down some toast, staying quiet as the conversation continues around you. The first bell rings and you barely hold back a sigh, detesting the fact that you'd have to get up again.

"I can walk you to potions?" Fred says, holding his hand out to help you off the bench. You're quick to conceal the paint on your shoe and if he notices, he doesn't say anything.

"And have you late for charms again?" You counter, raising an eyebrow at your boyfriend who just shrugs completely unfazed.

"Haven't seen you much lately, thought you'd been avoiding me."

His words feel like a stab directly to your heart, knowing that you were guilty of avoiding him, though it wasn't in a negative way. Your craved the time with him, of mischief in the late hours and spontaneous moments in hidden corridors and empty classrooms.

"I promise I'm not," you say with a smile, trying to vanquish his idea completely as you lean up to press a kiss to his full lips. His arms immediately grab your waist as he pulls you in for a deeper kiss that borders on inappropriate but you relent, unable to resist after not seeing him properly for so long.

"So, potions?" Fred smirks, pulling away. You chuckle, placing your hands on his chest.

"For me? Yes. For you? No, get to charms," you order playfully, leaning up to give him one last peck on the lips before turning away. "See you at lunch!"

You can hear his boyish chuckle as you walk away down the corridor in the opposite direction of him, praying that he would be entirely too focused on the swishing of your behind and that the paint on your shoe would go entirely unseen.

By lunch you were completely exhausted, too tired to even notice the suspicious side-eyes from the identical twins as they watched you poke around at your food and down a second cup of very strong tea, having outwardly complained that the first one was too weak. Uncharacteristically for them, they said nothing and continued to chatter amongst themselves, keeping the conversation open for you though you didn't give much imput.

"Fancy the black lake tonight, after hours?" Fred whispers in your ear, knowing even without looking that a smirk would be tugging at his lips. You inwardly grimaced, cursing your ridiculous secret plan as you wished more than anything that you could join him. You were running out of excuses now, finding it hard to keep track with what you'd already lied about.

"I can't tonight, got an essay for snape in the morning I've still not finished," you say with a guilty expression, almost wincing as the words too-effortlessly tumble out of your mouth. "Friday night I promise?"

He seems put out almost instantly, never one to be able to conceal his emotions well. He looks frustrated, confused and rejected within seconds of each other and gives a halfhearted nod at your counter offer of Friday instead.

The bell rings signalling the end of lunch and you hope for a kiss before parting but lose all hope when you feel his lips briefly brush your hairline and he runs off to catch up with George and Angelina.

You avoided the common room after classes, choosing instead to sneak down to Hagrid's a little early, thankful for Thursday evening Quidditch practice which meant that you wouldn't cross paths with Fred.

"Y/n, I'm nipping out tomorrow on dumbledores orders, think you could nip down and check in everything while I'm gone?" Hagrid says as you out dutifully complete your given task, hoping to get it done quickly so you could try and salvage a bit of time tonight for Fred. His questions throws you off for long enough that you feel a hot gust of fire breezing past your right ear, followed by a burning sensation in the same spot. He's quick to act and gets you out of harms way before any more damage is done whilst you remain slightly frozen in both fear and contemplation. You knew you couldn't say no, in debt to his generosity and so you simply nodded, already dreading the implications of your acceptance.

It's late once again when you arrive at the common room, only half an hour til curfew, and despite your attempts at hiding your tiredness and attempting to appear happy and neutral, you can't help but feel the guilt swirling in your gut when you see Fred and George pedalling their products to the younger students with wide smiles on their faces and still dressed in their quidditch uniforms. You sneak up to Fred once he's done with a sale and slip behind him, placing your hand on his shoulder to alert him to your presence.

Only, when he turns around his smile slowly fades upon realisation that it's you and your heart immediately begins to break, knowing that it was the other way round. He doesn't instantly reach out for you with his big grabby hands like usual nor does he attempt to kiss you. You try and salvage the situation, putting more effort in, trying to be as normal as possible but he seems to see right through the act.

"Wanna sneak out? I hear the black lake is beautiful this time of night." You say with a smirk, trying desperately to mask your tiredness and to hold it together. He doesn't jump at the chance as you hoped and instead casts a cursory glance to George before turning back to you.

"Can't tonight, got to restock the snack boxes with George," he says, briefly touching your hand before a third year calls his name, hand outstretched ready to buy one of his creations. Your stomach sinks, knowing that it's a lie and the irony of the situation only seems to hurt you more as you feel your eyes well up with fresh tears. You excuse yourself immediately, not even greeting your friends who you can tell are watching the tense exchange and you hope more than anything that no one follows you. You're completely depleted with exhaustion, running on hardly any sleep and completely overworked by your own doing. Suddenly the outcome didn't seem worth it and you regretted ever starting, finding your idea foolish.

You let your tears flow as you shower, passively washing away the fresh marks from the day off your arms, the clear gel and the colourful spatters draining away down the plug hole with your tears. You wince in pain when the water falls directly onto the freshly wounded skin behind your ear and your neck, execrating yourself for missing that spot despite Hagrid's warnings.

Too tired and upset to face going back down to the common room, you give up and reward yourself with an early night, though you feel anything but rewarded.

5am came around once more and more than ever you begrudgingly pulled yourself from the warm bed and slipped into the bathroom, the reminder of Fred's rejection playing on your mind from the second your eyes opened. Had you dreamt about it? Either way his reaction was firmly imprinted on your mind and you couldn't get away from how desperately painful it was to have him reject you like that. You slipped out of the common room on autopilot, closing the door with a little too much force already anticipating the fat lady's usual ranting and slumped off towards Hagrid's hut. The skies looked as sombre and sorrowful as you felt, covering the sky in a dull grey hue that seemed to dull the normally beautiful sunrise. You were quiet this morning, not rude or impolite but simply quiet as you worked alongside Hagrid, consumed by your foreboding thoughts knowing that you would still have to cancel Fred tonight, if he even cared anymore.

Once your morning jobs were complete, you decline any further invite to stay and decide instead to sneak back into the castle for breakfast, hoping you could join your friends and boyfriend like usual. Breakfast had only just begun when you walked into the great hall, having made your usual stop off at the girls bathrooms on the way and you're not surprised when the only person sat at the table is Hermione who's already got her head down in a book. She lifts her head up to greet you happily as you sit opposite her at the table, beginning to place her bookmark on the page she's on but you tell her not to, to enjoy the peace whilst she can. She shoots you a grateful smile and you sit enjoying your second cup of tea in peace, thankful you could make this happen today. You knew it was at the expense of your other jobs and you'd most certainly pay for it in the long run but having half of the morning to reset still felt good.

"Morning," Angelina says as a sits down at the table next to Hermione who this time only says a passive greeting, much too engrossed in her book. Angelina reached immediately for a glass of pumpkin juice before rubbing her eyes and yawning at the early hour.

"Not been sleeping well?" You ask with relative concern for your friend, watching her yawn for a second time within seconds. "Staying up late trying to find a loophole in quidditch rules again?" You joke with a smile, watching as she shoots you a mock glare even though it was most probably true, only to be interrupted by her third yawn.

"I wish! Still never finished reading that rule book," she snorts. "I know there's something there I've missed." She takes a sip of her pumpkin juice and you watch as she swallows down another yawn. "I was at the black lake with the twins last night, didn't get back til late."

It's amazing that you don't choke on your own pumpkin juice as the words glide out of her mouth, your stomach sinking like a stone at the implications. You knew Angelina and there was no malice nor hidden meaning behind her words but it still stings more than getting caught in the path of a Ukrainian Ironbelly. Fred had openly lied to you, had rejected you and had invited Angelina in your place. You're frozen in place by the revelation but Angelina doesn't notice, now heartily tucking into her breakfast, though you do notice hermione peeking over her book to look at you. Tears begin to prickle your eyes as the sinking feeling in your gut consumes you, your thoughts spiralling out of control. He didn't want you anymore, you'd pushed him too far to come back from, all with him in mind.

You barely noticed when Ron, Ginny and Harry appeared at the table but you noticed immediately when you heard two very familiar voices echoing as Fred and George walked into the great hall. You had to leave, you had to get out before then took their places. A part of you, wether it was self-punishment or morbid curiosity wanted to stay and see if Fred would chose to sit next to you, to see if he'd interact with you or be cold and distant but you couldn't do it, knowing that the latter would kill you. You stood up so quickly that you bumped your knee on the bottom of the table with a resounding thud that seemed to draw everyone's attention to you but you didn't stick around to shrivel under their curious gazes. There was no way you could avoid Fred now as he made his way to the table but you couldn't do anything about that. Placing your hand over your mouth, you feigned queasiness and ran out of the hall, straight past Fred and George.

Climbing up the spiralling staircase from potions, your stomach sank when you saw a familiar form resting against one of the pillars in the corridor, his shining red hair leaving no doubt as to who it was. You waited for your fellow classmates to disperse, signalling for Alicia to go ahead with the others, leaving you and Fred alone. You half hoped for the first time ever that you'd gotten the twins mixed up

And that it was actually George that was waiting for you but as you walked over with a faux smile on your face, there was no doubt in your mind that it was Fred.

"Hi," you said, sounding awkward even to your own ears. He gives you a look, apparently having noticed your unusually formal greeting too and reaches out for you as if nothing was wrong. His touch feels wrong, the lies feeling like an impenetrable barrier between you and you don't sink into his touch as you usually did, nor do you make any attempt to reach out for him in return.

"Still want to go to the black lake tonight?" He says, reaching out to play with a strand of your hair from the haphazardly thrown up ponytail. His words feel like a knife, like a taunt of what you missed out in last night. Did he know that you knew about his jaunts last night or was he planning on denying the entire thing and acting like nothing was wrong?

You couldn't bite your tongue any longer, the unyielding sleep deprivation affecting your ability to regulate your emotions and you pulled yourself back out of his reach with a venomous look in your eyes.

"Thought you'd have seen enough of it with Angelina last night,' you spit out, the quickly fading logical part of your brain hardly believing that you were having this conversation with Fred, the downfall of your relationship taking you completely by surprise as it's ungodly pace. He blanches, face flushing pale as his ears turn more and more pink upon hearing your words. His eyes widen momentarily and the sickness in your gut increases as you note how panicked he looks, your fears confirmed that he was intending on not telling you anything.

"Princess," he says, trying to bounce back from his momentary shock as he reaches out for you but you avoid his hand entirely, blocking him by slightly turning your body to the right, away from him.

"My name is y/n," you counter, uncaring for his term of endearment. His brown creases but in a flash it's gone, his gaze now focused on your ear. You watch as his eyes harden, no longer looking guilty as his eyes set into a hard stare that grazes across your face until he finally looks into your eyes, somehow in competition with you for how angry you can gaze at eachother.

"It's not my whereabouts that need questioning though is it?" He says through partially gritted teeth, unrelenting eyes staring into your soul.

"What are you talking about?" You counter, trying desperately to hold onto your anger but it's quickly draining from you under his suspicious scrutiny.

"Seems you forgot to hide that one," he spits, pointing to the mark behind your ear. Your gaze softens immediately as you realise what he's pointing to- the pink mark on your neck. In your haste to not set your hair on fire in potions, you'd quickly tied up your hair and had completely forgotten that the mark on your neck would now be visible.

"Fred," you say, the tables turning on you now as you cower under his powerful gaze.

"Thought it was odd that you kept disappearing," he says with a grumble, his voice sounding so cold and distant that you barely recognise it. "Who is he?"

"What?" You ask suddenly, quietly, completely floored by his accusation, your mouth agape as you look upon the heated gaze of your boyfriend, though you quickly realise it may be the last time you can call him that. Never had you thought that he would have accused you of cheating. Finding out your secret maybe but this? Never.

"You heard me, who is it? Bet it's Towler isn't it," he sneers, almost spitting as he says Kenneth Towler's name to taunt you. "Reckon he's long overdue for a second dose of bulbadox powder."

You're frozen in disbelief at the furthering accusations he's spouting, his mind already wandering back to Kenneth Towler who's skin had erupted into boils during your fifth year thanks to Fred putting Bulbadox powder in his pyjamas when he'd come on to you a bit too strongly during a mid-season Quidditch game. Fred had been so distracted upon seeing Towler attempt to drape his arm around you that it caused him to miss an oncoming bludger that caught the tail end of Wood's broom, throwing him off balance and equating in a deciding goal that had given Ravenclaw the lead, that then resulted in their victory over Gryffindor. Fred had been furious, not at you naturally but at Towler who he'd declared had lost them the whole game and had vowed a form of revenge by adding the bulbadox.

"It is isn't it?" He prods, taking your silence as confirmation.

"No!" You say with vengeance, wanting to shoot down that accusation straight away. "There's no one," you add. He huffs out a humourless laugh that makes your entire body fill with dread.

"Well someone's giving you those marks and it's certainly not me!" He argues, "haven't let me anywhere near you for weeks, which is funny because you're usually up for it whenever."

Your blood runs cold at his words and you resist the instinctual urge to slap him right across his stupid face. It's like the four years of your relationship have been nothing to him; pulled apart and mocked by one single comment that now made you question everything. Was that all it was to him? Were you just easy and available? You felt physically sick by the thought and you were certain that nothing had ever hurt you so deeply before. The boy you'd fallen so helplessly in love for, the one with the fire red hair and the cheeky grin that only ever seemed to have eyes for you had changed so quickly right before your eyes. The very boy that had supported all of your creative dreams, encouraging you to keep painting and keep creating even when you doubted yourself or lacked inspiration. Merlin, most of the time he was your inspiration.

You realise that there's nothing left to say, that any further attempt to defend yourself will only fall on deaf ears and by his last comment, you weren't sure it was worth trying to salvage the joke that had been your relationship. You thought of the secret you'd be hiding, of the real reason you had been sneaking away and lying to him, so far away from his assumption that it was almost laughable- but now completely void of any importance. There was no coming back from this. What you assumed to have been love for the past four years had completely disappeared from his eyes and you knew from this moment onwards that all you would ever see when he gazed upon you would be pure disdain.

It feels like every bone is breaking in your body simultaneously as you walk away, like your heart is directly under the cruciatus curse with the sheer volume of anguish within your body. You've never felt pain like it, completely unable to distinguish exactly where it hurts or why. You let vision is blurred and your body physically hurts, your ears ringing from the screams of pain that resonate around your head but are trapped inside your mind. You don't look at Fred, you can't, nor can you bear to listen for him calling out to you as you walk away, the last glimmer of hope gone.

You consider returning to your dorm and locking yourself away for the foreseeable future, skipping all of your classes and sobbing until you can't anymore as you body screams for you to do but you can't. You can't let anyone see you like that, nor would you be able to answer anyone's questions or deal with their stares. And so, you run to the one place you knew you'd be safe.

Fang greets you enthusiastically the second you push through the door to the empty hut and collapse against the door with a roaring cry. The anguish in your cries is one that you'd never heard emitted from yourself or any other human and you no longer fight back the floods of tears that fall down your face like an unstoppable river that had broken the dam. Fang, sensing your distress, walks over to you and calmly sits beside you, placing his huge head in your lap as you cry. You hold on to the lovable boarhound like an oversized teddy bear as the tears flow, uncaring about the inevitable puddle of drool that he'll leave in your lap, the comfort of the sweet dog more needed than ever.

You don't know how long you sit there crying with your pal by your side for every moment but eventually the tears begin to slow, your breath finally evening out though your heart still pounds, much like your head. Fang lifts his head slightly, his big eyes peering into yours and you give him a thankful smile through the tears, even if he doesn't know exactly what you're trying to convey. He gives your arm a little nudge and in your near delusional state, you assume that it's a reply to your thankfulness. You chuckle, giving him a good scratch of appreciation on his wrinkled forehead at the absurdity of the situation, but you'd be forever thankful that of all things, Fang was the only one that had held you together in your darkest moment.

#emeritusemeritus #emeritusemerituswrites #harry potter #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley masterlist #Fred Weasley fic #requests #requests completed

70 notes · View notes

hughiewasnthere · 22 days ago

Text

Graham Coxon x Fem reader

NSFW 18+!!!!

Title : First time eating out

Description : Graham admits he’s actually a virgin so you offer to let him eat you out.

Graham x female reading, oral (f receiving)

This was rushed my apologies

Story begins after photo

How did you get here? Who knows, who cares.

Right now what you do know is your panties are cast aside by grahams calloused fingers. His other fingers spreading your pussy lips apart as he stared in awe at the wetness glistening at him.

He’d told you that night he’s secretly a virgin and all the sex stories he’s told to the guys were complete sham. And obviously the good friend you are blurted out on accident you’d let him eat you out.

His brown eyes stare at your heat before he looked up at you. You had told him where to put his fingers and where to spread. Yet again the virgin and shy man he was anyways looked back at you.

Your slender hands came back down to your pussy as two fingers rubbed your clit as you moan softly

“There Graham…. It’s there” you practically whined out.

He hesitated before moving. Small kitten licks against your slit before moving up to your clit. He does it until he hears your moans and that’s when he buried his face into you and began to lick and suck like a man deprived of a goof meal.

His glasses were then wonky on his face but that didn’t bother him as he continued to eat you out.

Your hand in his hair as you whined and bucked into his face. Your head lolled to the side as you caught a glimpse of his hips. He was laid slightly where his lap was in full view. His hips were slowly rolling the air as he ate you out.

His hand then came up around you with his palm and fingers holding your lower stomach. He was definitely enjoying eating you out. He let out a soft whine.

His free hand pushed his jeans down freeing enough space from his cock and balls to be out.

I stopped his actions on you as he moved positions. He lays flat on his front before beginning his attack on your pussy again. You moan as you watch his hips rut into the bed.

It was all going well until this was the last thing you were expecting to do to him. You had squirted all over his face. He stopped not expecting it before smiling and lapping it all up off you with his tongue.

He sat up on his knees with a smile as he wiped his face “thanks…. Thanks for letting me…. Not… not many people would” he mumbled now nervous again like usual.

You sat up panting before grinning at him and looking down at his still hard erection

“Of course….. now let me take care of you” you chuckle. Your words brought an exited smile on his face as he sat back….

#graham coxon #blur band #blur #damon #damon albarn #damon albarn x reader #oasis band #liam gallagher #noel gallagher #alex james #dave rowntree #fanfic

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the-banana-0verlord · 2 years ago

Note

hellou <3 this is my most personal request maybe :') , hdcns for the dorm leaders (separatly) with a fem reader who accidentally ends up making them laugh (maybe she says or does it is very random I don't know) leaving mc like a clown 🤡. .. although mc doesn't understand why they're laughing because she doesn't think it was a big deal ksjkdd well in summary: mc intentionally becomes the clown of the leaders ;u;)/

Thank you for the request!

Also a special thank you to @cup1dt3a for helping me with Riddle and Vil's part, very appreciated! :D

How the dorm leaders would react to the reader reacting to them laughing at something the reader said

Notes: Fem! reader but can be read as gn, since the only pronouns are You/your. All credits to the artist of the cover picture! Also some parts are shorter than others.

🥀🥀🥀

Riddle Rosehearts

🥀You were studying in the library, a habit you've picked up very quickly as Riddle was a study freak(affectionate).

🥀He couldn't help but giggle everytime you mispronounced a word. However, he never felt the need to correct you so you had no idea why he was laughing.

🥀And Riddle isn't the type to laugh out of the blue, so you were even more confused.

🥀You quickly catched on as he explained to you. You then started to mispronounce the words voluntarily.

🥀At the end of none of you had learned a thing.

🥀He has a lingering feeling of guilt, because his mother would have never let him laugh like that during study time(which was practically always).

🥀Yet he couldn't stop himself for waiting hastily for your next study session, just to goof off with you again.

🦁🦁🦁

Leona Kingscholar

🦁If there's something you know, it's that Leona practically never laughs except sarcastically.

🦁But the way he laughed as of now... It felt real, and it was so unbelievable you could think he was mocking you.

🦁"Why'd you stop talking, Herbivore?" He asked as you stared at him mouth agape.

🦁Cute, he thought as you regained your spirits and blabbered akwardly an apology for staring.

🐙🐙🐙

Azul Ashengrotto

🐙You just have some way of speaking... It instantly brings a smile to his face everytime.

🐙He chuckled just thinking about it.

🐙When he looked up, he met your eyes that were sending "???".

🐙"Is something the matter? Are you admiring my beautiful face?

-Nah, just, why did you laugh at me?

-Laugh at you...?"

🐙Ah, he must have caused a quiproco with his laugh.

🐙"Worry not, it wasn't you I was laughing at.

-What, then?

-That is my little secret~"

🐙You would have made him swallow his smirk if he wasn't so pretty.

☀☀☀

Kalim Al-Asim

☀Well to be fair, he is laughing at everything you say because he thinks you're extremely funny.

☀But for the first time it happened, you were caught off guard. His laugh is loud and it resonated in your ears.

☀When he realised you were looking at him weirdly, he asked you what was the matter.

☀You brushed it off, and he was so oblivious he accepted your explanation.

☀As time went on, you learned it was just a joyful habit of his.

💅💅💅

Vil Schoenheit

💅Without realising it, you were the funniest person he knew. You would always drop snarky remarks that caught him off guard.

💅He snickers everytime, but he's the only one to do so because he's the only one able to catch your subtilities.

💅Or maybe you're more prone to laughing to someone's jokes when you like them, who knows.

💅Anyhow, it took you long enough to realise he wasn't laughing at you, but at your jokes.

💅When the light finally switched in your head, you were glad to know someone appreciated your puns.

💅You wouldn't think someone like him would appreciate puns, but it's still nice.

🎮🎮🎮

Idia Shroud

🎮Oh he'd be caught dead if he ever made you think he was laughing at you.

🎮He'd be caught dead simply for looking at you, but I digress.

🎮Anyways in a world where it does happen, you're not even mad because his laugh is so wonky you start to laugh as well.

🎮Yeah he's the clown now.

🎮He immediately starts to whimper in embarrassement and you have to calm him down.

🐉🐉🐉

Malleus Draconia

🐉He wasn't really listening to what you were saying, he was too busy looking at your beautiful face. He thought about how lucky he was to have you, and chuckled.

🐉you, however, who wasn't living in his head, had no idea why he was laughing. Your dumbfounded face only made him laugh harder.

🐉It was his turn to be confused when you seemed upset. He hadn't imagined his actions could cause you pain.

🐉you forgot about it rather quickly, but Malleus didn't. He followed you like a lost puppy for weeks trying to be forgiven.

***

Hope you enjoyed!

Have a good day/night!

709 notes · View notes

defectivevillain · 10 months ago

Text

struck by your lightning, ch3

reader’s pronouns: he/him

summary: You decide to take advantage of the moment’s respite you’re given. “Okay. Hey, how are you?” You look up, only to find yourself staring at Kaminari Denki. The Kaminari Denki—the idol with over thirty million listeners and sold-out concerts across the world. You’re certain that you’re going to fumble your words several times in front of him. (You're a reporter working at the red carpet of a national award gala. You've convinced yourself that you're doing just fine. At least, you're doing fine until you interview Kaminari.)

here’s chapter one and chapter two [you’ll want to read these first, otherwise this won’t make much sense]

this is a chat-hybrid fic and the formatting was mostly made for ao3. it’s a lil wonky here, so here’s the ao3 version if you’d prefer to read that :)

since it's been a while, here's a refresh of what happened in ch1-2: The reader works at DoubleVision agency and is invited to interview artists at an award show. His interview and interaction with Kaminari quickly goes viral—both because of his flustered reaction at the end and the “Love ya”s exchanged at the end. The reader tries not to think too much of it, until he opens his phone to find a message from an unknown number who proves to be Kaminari himself. The two quickly grow to be friends through frequent text conversations. Kaminari reveals that he has your placard for the event and plans for the two of you to meet up together at the nearby coffee shop…

now, onto the story....

Tokyo Entertainment Fix | @tokentfix

Popstar Kaminari Denki Spotted with Reporter from Awards Gala at Coffee Shop!

[ coffee1.jpg ] [ coffee2.jpg ] [ coffee3.jpg ]

89k comments | 486k retweets | 1.8m likes

____________

jj | @dendendenki

ARE Y’ALL SEEING THIS

409 comments | 3k retweets | 18.2k likes

i said what i said. | @ urfavescouldnever

In response to @dendendenki

seeing what

5 comments | 21 retweets | 451 likes

jj | @dendendenki

In response to @ urfavescouldnever

THIS [tokentfix.twt] [newsarticle.link]

61 comments | 1.3k retweets | 8k likes

i said what i said. | @ urfavescouldnever

In response to @dendendenki

I’M SEEING IT NOW HOLY SHIT

4 comments | 808 retweets | 1.6k likes

_______

Direct Message

You: have you seen…?

Kaminari Denki: the news article about us?

You: yeah

Kaminari Denki: ah yeah, i saw it

You: i’m sorry

Kaminari Denki: i’m sorry

Kaminari Denki: WHAT

You: i’m sorry

Kaminari Denki: no no no

Kaminari Denki: stop that immediately

You: y??

Kaminari Denki: bc it's not ur fault!!!

Kaminari Denki: if anything, i should be the one apologizing

You: why??? you didn’t do anything

Kaminari Denki: NEITHER DID YOU

You: ah damn it i see what you did there

Kaminari Denki: damn right

Kaminari Denki: but srsly, i hope the article isn’t messing anything up for u

You: i was gonna say the same to you

Kaminari Denki: oh pls, this kind of shit happens to me all the time

Kaminari Denki: but seriously, are you doing ok?

You: yep all good

You: it’s just more funny than anything else

Kaminari Denki: is the thought of dating me really so bad :(

You: oh pls, that’s not what i meant

You: i just meant celebrity culture in general… like they’re so obsessed with your relationship status and it’s kinda weird>??

Kaminari Denki: yeah…

You: sigh

You: so glad i’m just a lowly reporter 🙏

Kaminari Denki: hey, don’t jinx it

Kaminari Denki: plus, haven’t you looked on twt recently

Kaminari Denki: fans are shipping us together

Kaminari Denki: pretty sure there are stan accounts dedicated to you now

Kaminari Denki: not that i would know

Kaminari Denki: or follow them

You: fr??

Kaminari Denki: fr fr

You: deadass?

Kaminari Denki: on god

You: i hate us

Kaminari Denki: same

__________

Thankfully, that article about Kaminari and you doesn’t actually change much. You go about business as usual, albeit with a strange sense of guilt prickling along your skin when your mind is unoccupied. You throw yourself into your work and try to bury the emotions, but they are never truly extinguished.

Your conversations with Kaminari are far rarer now, especially as the both of you get even busier. Kaminari is working on releasing his next album and you’re pitching new stories and writing to old acquaintances for features. Even though you throw yourself into work, you still find your thoughts returning to Kaminari. Your relationship with him is currently undefined—your meeting the other day felt like a date, but neither of you acknowledged it. You would love to be more than friends with Kaminari, but you also know that someone as well-known as him doesn’t exactly have the freedom to pursue a relationship and a music career at the same time. Resigned, you slowly push away thoughts of Kaminari until you think you get a good handle on your emotions.

Until everything you try to suppress comes roaring back.

___________

Kaminari Denki | @kaminaridenki

24 hours. [STATIC.jpg]

203k comments | 1.2m retweets | 4m likes

____________

Kaminari Denki to Release New Album Tomorrow

Arts—Music

2 min ago ᐧ By Janet Drews

Kaminari Denki, award-winning musical artist and popular culture icon, recently announced the release of his new album on Twitter. The Tweet earned over four million likes and 200,000 comments. Listeners are clearly looking forward to the occasion, as #KaminariDenki, #STATIC, and #DenkiAlbum top the Twitter Trending page (#1, #2, and #4, respectively).

Some fans speculate the new album will be an ode to the rumored relationship between Kaminari and the DoubleVision reporter who interviewed him at the award gala [interview.mp4]. The interaction between the singer and the reporter quickly went viral following live coverage of the event. Digital citizens across the platform searched for explanations for the exchange, and Kaminari fans such as user @heyheyh3y discussed their red-carpet conversation.

stream lightning by kaminari! | @heyheyh3y okay but is it just me or was there some tension there… [interview.jpg]: A screenshot of Kaminari standing next to you during the interview. 907 comments | 66k retweets | 256k likes

This album will be a bit different from his previously released music, Kaminari said to Vogue Japan mere days ago. The artist made no mention of a significant other who could bear influence on his new music, despite the fact that he was seen with the DoubleVision reporter at EspressoBeanz but a few days ago—a cafè conveniently located near both DoubleVision agency and UA Entertainment. However, other Kaminari fans, like users @electrstatic and @staticshockwave, weren’t convinced:

⚡⚡| @electrstatic y’all are making such a huge deal about this whole reporter business, as if the same thing hasn’t happened time and time again with literally anyone kaminari interacts with 31 comments | 23 retweets | 700 likes electric boogaloo | @staticshockwave In response to @electrstatic THANK YOU. like, when he first got Arata as a manager, everyone was going batshit crazy about how they were dating… and they weren’t. and the way anyone breathing in Kaminari’s direction is assumed to be dating him… it’s crazy 0 comments | 8 retweets | 32 likes

Either way, fans across the world are looking forward to the release of new music from Kaminari. His new album, STATIC, will be released on Apple Music, Spotify, Soundcloud, and assorted digital platforms at 3 p.m. JST (approximately 10 a.m. UTC).

__________

Direct Message

You: heyyy, how are you feeling

You: the album releases tmrw, right?

Kaminari Denki: very nervous

Kaminari Denki: and yes, t minus 20 hrs

You: awesome!

You: and rly? why?

Kaminari Denki: well… i worked hard on it, and i want ppl to like it

You: okay

You: will you be disappointed if your fans don’t like it?

Kaminari Denki: a little, yeah

You: but why do you write music? do you write it for them or for yourself?

Kaminari Denki:

You: sorry, that sounds patronizing…

Kaminari Denki: no, you’re right

Kaminari Denki: i think i needed to hear that

You: i mean, you clearly worked very hard on it. i’m sure everyone listening will recognize that.

Kaminari Denki: i hope so

You: they will 😠 and if they don’t, fuck em

Kaminari Denki: damn right

Kaminari Denki: thanks <3

You: ofc! <3

You: i have to go eat dinner, talk soon?

Kaminari Denki: yep,, enjoy your meal

You: tyyy haha

___________

Direct Message

Kaminari Denki: hypothetically speaking

Sero Brain Cells: ok hello to you too

Sero Brain Cells: also bitch do i look like a scientist

Kaminari Denki: hYPOTHETICALLY SPEAKING

Kaminari Denki: does a “<3” mean someone is hopelessly in love with me

Sero Brain Cells: jfc

Kaminari Denki: is that a yes

Sero Brain Cells: ur so fuckin whipped

Kaminari Denki: SHUT UP

Kaminari Denki: I TRUSTED YOU

Kaminari Denki: i came to you in my time of weakness

Kaminari Denki: and this is how you repay me

Sero Brain Cells: dude, you gotta tell him at some point

Kaminari Denki: ik…

Sero Brain Cells: and even if you don’t, he’ll probably figure it out soon

Kaminari Denki: wdym

Sero Brain Cells: ur new album.

Kaminari Denki: what about it?

Sero Brain Cells: half of those songs are so clearly about him

Kaminari Denki: nahhhh no way i kept it hella ambiguous

Sero Brain Cells: ambiguous, huh

Kaminari Denki: shut up

Kaminari Denki: … do you really think he’ll notice

Sero Brain Cells: well, i’m not sure

Sero Brain Cells: you both seem a lil oblivious, so it may be fine

Kaminari Denki: hey 😭

Sero Brain Cells: all love

Sero Brain Cells: but also get ur shit together u raging homo (affectionate, non-derogatory)

Kaminari Denki: oh pls, as if you haven’t been pining for shoto for six business years

Sero Brain Cells: HEY

Sero Brain Cells: …HEY

Sero Brain Cells: HEY 💀

Sero Brain Cells: ik ur stressed rn so i’ll let that slide 🤨

Kaminari Denki: ur right, i’m so anxious

Kaminari Denki: sry for taking it out on u, bro

Sero Brain Cells: it’s ok bro

Sero Brain Cells: wanna get ur ass kicked in mariokart?

Kaminari Denki: do i want to kick ur ass in mariokart? absolutely

Sero Brain Cells: we’ll see about that

Kaminari Denki: damn right we will

___________

Kaminari Denki | @kaminaridenki

fucking godly at mariokart [mariokart.jpg]

19k comments | 97k retweets | 347k likes

Sero | @serofucks

In response to @kaminaridenki

oh fuck all the way off, you had steering assist on

3k comments | 45k retweets | 228k likes

@kamisimpsimp

In response to @serofucks

OOOOP

47 comments | 430 retweets | 1.4k likes

surprised pikachu face | @kamipikakami

In response to @kamisimpsimp

gagged and gooped

31 comments | 338 retweets | 2.3k likes

alex | @kaminarunaronari

In response to @kaminaridenki

what really concerns me is that you main lakitu

2k comments | 134k retweets | 765k likes

stream lightning by kaminari! | @heyheyh3y

In response to @kaminaridenki

here we are, anxiously awaiting the new album, and this mf is playing mariokart

21 comments | 208 retweets | 809 likes

@kamisimpsimp

In response to @heyheyh3y

as one does!

0 comments | 46 retweets | 665 likes

___________

Direct Message

You: heyyyy

You: it’s release dayyyyyy

Kaminari Denki: when you when you when you whennnnnnnnnnnnnnfdshfkdjs

You: :0

You: looking forward to it!

Kaminari Denki: :3

(Nine Hours Later)

Direct Message

You: congratulationsssss!!!!

You: i’ll try to find the time to listen to STATIC soon!!!

Kaminari Denki: thanks :)

___________

Kaminari stares down at his phone, watching as fans discuss the new album. He has the album on shuffle in the background as he tries to brainstorm some choreography. Kaminari has absolute faith in the talented choreographers that he works with—but he just feels like he needs to do something to combat the restless energy surging through him.

The feedback on the album so far has been overwhelmingly positive, yet he’s still nervous—as if he’s still waiting for a reaction from someone. Shaking his head, he tries to focus on the choreography he’s creating. But that plan quickly backfires. Within moments, his phone buzzes—breaking him out of his thoughts. Kaminari freezes and immediately grabs it from his pocket, heart thudding rhythmically in his chest as he unlocks his phone and goes to his messages. There’s a series of texts from you:

You: ok, i have time to listen, now! You: gonna listen as i make dinner!!!

Kaminari sighs, trying to calm his racing heart. He doesn’t know what to say or how to say it. Taking a deep breath, he puts his phone back in his pocket and decides to practice some of the choreography for his other songs. Even amidst the music running through the space and the dance moves that seemed etched onto his very skin, Kaminari still can’t help but think of you.

___________

Meanwhile, you’re just getting home from work. You hate to admit it, but you’ve been looking forward to listening to Kaminari’s new album for a bit now. It’s especially thrilling to think that you can discuss it with him afterward—hell, he even seems to be awaiting your feedback. The thought is exciting and nerve-wracking in equal measures.

You decide to change out of your work clothes before starting dinner, so that you don’t have to worry about staining anything. Then, you grab your Bluetooth speaker and place it on the kitchen counter, before pulling up Kaminari’s newest album and tapping on the first song. Immediately, a beautiful, twisting melody reaches your ears and you swear you feel your shoulders begin to relax. You busy yourself with preparing dinner while his voice fills the space.

Safe to say, the album is incredible. You really like each song you’ve listened to so far—and have found yourself saving each of them to various playlists. Even if you hadn’t spoken with Kaminari throughout the period he was working on the album, you would be able to tell that he put a lot of effort into it. As you expected, that effort shows through in each and every song.

His songs are rather hard-hitting, emotionally speaking. The fifth song, traces of you , makes you freeze in place. You have to rewind to listen to one particular portion of the song again:

…and I stand aside

as you’re washed away

with the ebbing tide

I’m so afraid

of falling out of love

Sometimes I look up

at the blinding black night

and the stars seem to whisper

your name in the air

I feel a shiver roll down my spine

I remember your hand in mine,

and I’m just so afraid.

You don’t know how long you stand at the kitchen counter, letting the lyrics slip into your ears and down your skin. This song is so raw and vulnerable. You feel the sudden urge to close your eyes. For a moment, you can almost trick yourself into thinking Kaminari is singing to you, that these lyrics are meant for you and you alone. It’s a foolish thought, but you can’t quite push it away. You feel your eyes burning with unshed tears as you try to picture Kaminari writing down these lyrics. What was he feeling, in those moments? Were his eyebrows furrowed in concentration? Were his hands stained from the still-drying ink of his pen? Was he tapping his foot along to an unheard, not-yet-created melody?

Something blares loudly, tearing you from your reverie. You blink and look around the room, gasping when you realize you completely neglected the pan on the stove. The pan is smoking and you recognize that insufferable sound to be the fire alarm. You’re quick to turn off the burner. The fire isn’t extinguished. Panicking, you race to one of the kitchen cabinets to grab baking soda. Baking soda, quickly , your mind is practically yelling. You grab the baking soda and haphazardly spread it over the grease fire, relief coursing through you when you see the flames begin to die down. When the fire finally subsides, you look down at your attempt at dinner, only to find a charred pile. You shake your head in disbelief and clean up your mess, before grabbing your phone and skipping to the next song.

You don’t make the mistake of attempting to make dinner as you listen to the rest of the album, which is a rather smart move, because the remaining songs are lyrical masterpieces. There isn’t a single song on the album that you don’t like. A small smile growing on your face, you open your messaging app.

___________

Direct Message

You: i love the new album holy shit

Kaminari Denki: really?

You: yesssss omfg absolutely

Kaminari Denki: akjdfkjfskdjfsdlkf

Kaminari Denki: which track is your favorite? for research purposes

You: research purposes? lol

You: my favorite is definitely traces of you

Kaminari Denki: ah, that’s one of my favorites, too!

Kaminari Denki: and lemme just say: i’m so happy you listened! it means the world to me, so thank you <3

You: no need to thank me—just doing my due diligence as a friend! besides, the new album is incredible!

You: and i promise i’m not just saying that to be nice,,, it’s clear you put a lot of effort into it.

Kaminari Denki: ahhh stawp ur gonna make me all flustered xD

You: hahaha

You: i do have one critique, though

Kaminari Denki: ooooh ok i’m listening 👀

You: traces of you needs to come with a warning

Kaminari Denki: for what? shit how did i miss that

You: “warning: will distract you from cooking dinner and nearly burn your home down”

Kaminari Denki: wait

Kaminari Denki: you did notttttt 💀

You: I DID

You: i was so distracted i forgot i was making dinner

Kaminari Denki: omfgggg that’s insane

Kaminari Denki: i’ve heard a lot of things about my music, but never that it almost burned a house down and ruined dinner 😭

You: lmfaooo

Kaminari Denki: i’m so sorry 😭😭

You: it’s not your fault, holy shit

You: don’t feel guilty!!!! if it makes you feel better, it was completely worth it

Kaminari Denki: hmph

You: i wasn’t rly that hungry anyways

Kaminari Denki: hm hm hm hm hmmmmmm

You: whatttt

Kaminari Denki: nothing i gtg

Kaminari Denki is offline.

You: o….kay? …bye?

___________

You exit out of your messaging app and start rummaging through your pantry for something to eat. Nothing sounds very good right now. You don’t have much food left, either—you’re in desperate need of a trip to the grocery store. You’re sure you can make time to go tomorrow, but as for right now… you’re stuck making do with what you have. Truthfully, you’re tempted to order something—but it’s already getting late and you don’t want to wait even longer for a meal when you’re already hungry.

You walk out into your living room and flop onto the couch, trying to distract yourself from the hunger gnawing at your stomach. Admittedly, your abrupt conversation with Kaminari is weighing heavily on your mind too. You eventually scroll through YouTube mindlessly, if only to keep yourself distracted. You’re not sure how long you sit there before there’s a sudden ringing sound. You frown, wondering if you’re hearing things.

The sound occurs again, and you realize that someone must be ringing your doorbell. Squinting in confusion, you head to your front door and peek through the peephole—surprised to find a familiar blond singer standing on your porch. You quickly unlock your front door and swing it open. “Kaminari?” You ask, convinced you’re seeing things. You hadn’t made plans to hang out today, and you assumed that your conversation died off because he was busy.

“Hey,” Kaminari smiles. He’s wearing a sweatshirt and jeans with a pair of colorful sneakers. His bangs are clipped back and his hair is almost glowing in the dim light of your porch. There’s a sheepish smile on his face that is endlessly endearing. “I heard you missed dinner.” He smiles, holding up a few bags of takeout from a restaurant the two of you had spoken about before.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you say quickly, hoping that you didn’t make him feel as if he had to provide you with dinner. It wasn’t his fault you were distracted.

“I wanted to,” he says with a smile, dispelling your doubts. “I think I remember your order, but…” He trails off, averting his eyes with an embarrassed expression. “I got a few different things, just in case.”

“I could kiss you,” you breathe relievedly, unaware of the flush that adorns Kaminari’s cheeks as he processes that remark. You motion for him to come in, before locking the front door and showing him to the dining room. You leave him to unbag the food, while you grab plates and utensils. “Do you want anything to drink?” You ask from the kitchen.

“What do you have?” Kaminari asks casually.

“Water, soda, sparkling water…” You trail off, looking through your fridge for anything else you may have laying around.

“Water’s fine,” he smiles. You roll your eyes and grab another glass, filling up waters for you both before returning to the table. Kaminari wasn’t kidding when he said he bought a few different things—as it’s all laid out on your table, it looks as if he bought half the menu. You return to the kitchen and grab the plates and utensils you gathered earlier, before heading back. Unsurprisingly, the pile of food on the table doesn’t get any smaller.

“This is a lot of food,” you remark cautiously. Realistically speaking, there’s no way you’ll be able to finish all of this, and you feel slightly guilty.

“Oh, yeah,” Kaminari nods, “I figured we would have enough for leftovers, and stuff.” You nod in agreement, before busying yourself with making a plate.

“So,” you say, once the two of you are settled in and have begun eating. You didn’t realize just how hungry you were until you took a bite of the food. There’s an inexplicable tension hovering over the air, and you’re unsure if you’re imagining it or not. “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” Kaminari responds with a nod. “Really good,”

“Good!” You smile, taking another bite. “Are you topping the charts already?”

He smiles bashfully, poking at his food with a fork. “I think so… yeah.” He’s so humble, and you can’t help but think it’s rather admirable.

“That’s so cool,” you remark, “I’m so happy for you.”

“Thanks, I’m happy, too.” He smiles briefly, before looking back down at his food. The happiness in his expression almost seems to flicker for a moment, and the grin on his lips suddenly looks strained. You frown. At first, you want to put that sight down to your imagination; but when the silence stretches on for a while and he doesn’t make a move to continue speaking, you decide to acknowledge it.

“Are you sure?” You blurt out, before you can contemplate the consequences of speaking so freely. Kaminari looks at you in confusion and you grimace. “Sorry. It’s just- You seem a little… off, I guess.”

“I’m good,” he reassures you with a small nod. The gesture is not very convincing.

“Okay,” you say, not wanting to push him further. If there’s something he doesn’t want to talk about, you’re not going to force it out of him. After a few moments, your conversation returns to normal. You still have a lingering suspicion that there’s something weighing on his mind, but you decide to forget about it.

Overall, your dinner is pleasant. You get the chance to ask Kaminari a few questions about the album, and you really enjoy seeing his eyes sparkle as he goes into in-depth explanations of the meanings behind his songs. It feels like you’re seeing a side of him that very few people get to see—but you don’t want to flatter yourself.

Kaminari offers to help you with the dishes when you’re both finished eating, but you quickly refuse and promise him you’ll finish them quickly. You run water over the dishes before placing them in the dishwasher, promising yourself to run it later that night. When you return to the table, you’re surprised to find Kaminari staring ahead with a troubled expression on his face. His hands are clasped on the table and his lips are pulled in a thin line.

Before you can even begin to ask, he’s filling the silence. “You were right,” Kaminari admits. He sounds a little strange—almost as if he’s nervous. You stare at him expectantly. “There is something bothering me.”

The tortured expression on his face is a bit worrying. “Well, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” You feel the need to remind him. While you’re concerned about what could be distressing him, you know that sometimes, it’s too painful to talk about those types of things.

But Kaminari surprises you with his response. “I want to,” he reassures you. You watch as he pushes himself to his feet and stares down at the table, running a finger along the wood. “I’ve just… been trying to figure out how to say it.”

“Take your time,” you say. “I’m not in a rush.” Kaminari nods appreciatively.

You’re not sure what you’re expecting to hear, in all honesty. But what he says next feels entirely unreal. “When I first met you, I was attracted to you,” Kaminari chokes out, looking at the ceiling as if nervous to meet your eyes. “I sort of expected it to fizzle, because… well, I didn’t know you all that well. But once we started talking more, I realized that my feelings weren’t going away. While I just knew you as the alluring reporter before, I now knew you as this… this incredible person.” You stare at him in shocked silence.

“You’re so… You’re kind, smart, and passionate. You have a wicked sense of humor and I always look forward to hearing from you. I…

“I’m not sure how familiar you are with me and my career, but… Truthfully, I hit a bit of a rough spot. My last album was a few years ago and I was convinced that I wouldn’t be able to write anything new. But then I met you, and got to know you, and all of a sudden, I was writing all the time.

“Suddenly, I had an entire album—filled with songs that I wrote while thinking about you. And I didn’t know what to do. I had already tried to bury my feelings for you, and it clearly hadn’t worked at all. I assumed you didn’t feel the same as I did. And I’m still not sure, of course.

“But when you sent those messages earlier… I felt something snap in me. It was like, one moment I was staring down at my phone, and the next, I was walking into that restaurant you were talking about.

“And tonight, I’ve been trying to keep it together… But it’s been nearly fucking impossible. I see you across the table and I can’t help but think that this is how I want to spend the rest of my life—sneaking glances at you, and hearing about your day at work…

“Not to mention, the whole Sero thing… It was stupid. But when you said you liked his music, my heart just dropped. I felt like… I don’t know. I felt like I lost you. Even though you weren’t mine to lose.”

“Anyway,” Kaminari says, shaking his head before meeting your eyes. He looks simultaneously more relieved and more nervous than before. “I just had to get that out. And now we can pretend I never said anything.” He shakes his head and fiddles with the strings of his hoodie.

You’re still reeling from everything he just said, but you’re quick to dismiss his assumptions. “What?” You exclaim. “No, Kaminari, I have feelings for you too,” you say. He stares at you with wide eyes. “It’s been so fun getting to know you. You’re just… you’re so bright and energetic, passionate, and good-hearted… I was so nervous when I first met you, because it was my first time ever being on a red carpet… but you made me feel more confident, just by being yourself.”

“And when I got distracted listening to your music earlier… It was because I was thinking of you, and thinking that, somehow, you could be singing just to me. That you could have written that song… just for me. And I know it’s stupid…”

“It’s not stupid,” Kaminari interjects, before you can spiral into further self-deprecation. “I just told you, I was thinking of you when I wrote them. All of them.” The lyrics flicker before your eyes at rapid speed, as you remember all the words that felt too vulnerable to ever be yours. You think about how you felt as you were cooking dinner—that tight feeling in your chest as you pretended that everything was fine, as you pretended that you were okay with the idea of Kaminari writing those songs while thinking of someone else. Before you can contemplate your next move, you’re surging forward—and Kaminari is too. Your hands cradle his cheeks as you kiss him, and he tugs you impossibly closer with his hands on your waist. His touch sends pleasant shivers down your spine.

“I guess the fans were right, huh,” you remark with amusement once you break apart.

“There’s a first time for everything,” Kaminari says, his eyes gleaming. He takes a deep breath, his hands still latched on your waist (as if he doesn’t want to let you go). Indecision draws his lips together into a flat line. “Are you sure you want to do this? Being in a relationship with me… It’s going to be different. I- I can’t pretend that I have any privacy whatsoever, or a super accommodating schedule, or-”

“Of course I want to do this,” you immediately say, before he can continue. “More than anything.”

Kaminari’s hands migrate up your shoulders and towards the nape of your neck. He leans closer until your foreheads are touching. “I’m just so afraid.” He whispers, so quietly that you nearly convince yourself you didn’t hear it. (The stars seem to whisper your name in the air… I feel a shiver roll down my spine, I remember your hand in mine, and I’m just so afraid). You pull him into a hug.

“Me too,” you admit in a breath against his shoulder. Kaminari mutters something into your shoulder, but it’s incomprehensible. “Hey, if we can get five and a half million people to watch us stumble through an interview, I think we can do this.” The singer huffs a laugh and pulls back, his hand rising to your cheek and his thumb running across your skin. There’s a smile on his face—one of unmistakable fondness and affection. You lean forward to break the distance between you once more, a euphoric feeling settling in your chest and a smile growing on your face.

endnotes:

i really snuck Seroroki in there, mhwhahaha.

this took so fuckin long to format on here (I had to format it AGAIN despite already devoting time to doing that on ao3), pls show some love if you enjoy it... i'm begging

thanks for reading! <3

check out my other works, sorted by fandom.

general taglist: @its-ares @excusemeasibangmyheadonawall @kingkoku @the-ultimate-librarian @gayaristocrat anddd @alex12ander @7heehee7 @the-lurking-await-you since y'all commented on part two

#defectivevillain #male reader #transmasc reader #bnha #mha #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bnha x male reader #mha x male reader #Kaminari x reader #kaminari x male reader #kaminari denki #Kaminari Denki x male reader #kaminari x transmasc reader #I deserve the biggest award for dedicating even MORE time to formatting this on tumblr

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bea-ce · 2 years ago

Text

If only I could make you believe you deserve everything

pairing: kaveh x reader (can be read platonically or romantically)

genre: hurt/comfort, angst

summary: life is awful at times. very much so that you end up falling back to bad habits to get you through it. luckily, you have kaveh to help you guide back to the right track.

word count: 4.2k

notes: hii!! first post! (and its hurt/comfort RAHHHH) kaveh might be a little ooc as i havent gotten to him in the archon quest yet, so i apologize for that in advance! i poured my heart and soul and my own personal experiences into this,, i apologize if the comfort is a lil wonky.

title is inspired by Nicole Dollanganger’s song “Please Eat”.

trigger warning(s): mentions of ed/having an ed, descriptive experience of having an ed, mentions of relapsing into unhealthy coping mechanisms, self inflicted harm (self harm), descriptions of self-contempt, descriptions of feelings of unworthiness.

let me know if i missed any warnings

It had been a while since the last time you’d done this. The thought of even returning back to this state was beyond you. Everything had been going so well it seemed. Sure, life still threw inconveniences towards you, but you handled them just fine, you thought.

Clearly not, as you’re now back to restraining yourself from eating and indulging yourself from something that’s vital for you to live. You knew the risks of refusing yourself food, you’d read all about the consequences and health risks of starving yourself.

Yet that is the precise reason you’re doing this.

You know how harmful this is and you know it’s bad. The knowledge of the dangers and harm in doing it is exactly why you continue doing it though: It’s your punishment. A sigh escapes your lips as you try concentrating on the paper that lay before you instead of the numbness that starts taking over your legs and the quivering of your hand. There isn’t any way for you to not notice how your body is screaming out for something to eat. It’s constantly reminding you as your vision is clouded with dark spots whenever you move and how your body shakes as you do any everyday task. Despite its cries for food, you ignore it and open the lid to the water bottle beside you and empty half of it to ignore the ache in your stomach due to its emptiness.

It helps, somewhat, as it fools your stomach for sometime at least. In a shaky motion you place the water bottle beside the pile of assignments you have to finish before the end of this week.

It’s difficult to get anything done when the ache in your stomach extends to the rest of your body, making the most simple task like reading over the text presented in front of you and writing down notes feeling so incredibly demanding on your body. A groan escapes your lips as you lean back into the chair and drag your hand across your face in annoyance. You need to finish these assignments, yet you can’t. Everything feels so hazy and your mind is blank, unable to think of anything other than the feeling of hunger growing more intense.

The bustling from the kitchen can be heard all the way into your room. Usually at this hour you’d sit by the kitchen table and eat with Alhaitham and Kaveh, but you’ve locked yourself away in your room, drowning yourself in work to ignore the deep wretched feelings that linger within you. A faint knock on the door echoes throughout the room as a voice calls out from the other side. It’s Kaveh’s voice, calling out to you. "(Y/N)?" Your name is muffled by the closed door as you turn around in your seat to look at the source of the sound. There stands Kaveh, holding a plate with food in his hand while the other one is still gripping onto the door handle.

Your eyes quickly scan his face before they dart down to look at the plate he’s holding.

It’s too much, you think as you look at the contents of the food. Numbers appear inside your head the longer you stare at the plate, feeling repulsed at the thought of putting anything in your mouth and fulfilling your hunger at the cost of the imaginary numbers going up.

You turn around to face the paper you’ve been staring blankly at for the last hour, waving Kaveh off. “I’ve already eaten.” You answer courtly. You haven’t, but telling him you weren’t hungry wasn’t an option. Kaveh would be reluctant had you answered that you weren’t hungry and placed the food by your table instead. The thought alone that he might do that makes you want to cry and scream in panic. You can’t risk letting yourself indulge in the food that he’s made: You must go through with your own punishment.

Kaveh sighs and grabs the door handle, about to leave and close the door before the sound of your stomach growling bounces off the walls. He stops in his tracks as his grip on the plate tightens. You can feel his eyes boring into your back as you tense up at how your stomach contradicts your words from earlier. A deep terror stirs within you as your thoughts wander off to all the possible reactions you might receive from the blond man at the revelation. You hear how he shuffles behind you and closes the door behind him as he approaches you. You dare not to turn around to look at him, instead you hold up your face above the paper and stare intently onto it, trying to focus on the words that dance around across the paper to ignore Kaveh’s look of pity and concern.

Kaveh is standing right next to you, his grip on the plate is so incredibly tight that his knuckles have gone white. His eyes are soft and laced with worry as he looks down on you, and to be honest; he’s not sure how to handle this situation he’s being faced with right now. He places the plate next to your bedside table instead of the table in front of you, knowing better than shoving unwanted food up your face. It’s not what you need right now.

Kaveh sits on the side of your bed, boring his eyes into the back of your head as he waits for you to do the first move, to begin the conversation. He doesn’t want to scare you off now that he’s found out. He can feel the pain within you. He can see the hurt and the desperation, but he has no words to fill the silence. He doesn't know how he could possibly help you, but he wants to. More than that, he wants to try.

“I’m fine” you try to subside the situation, playing it off to only being a one time thing when it’s clear to the both of you that it isn’t.

Kaveh interrupts you. “You’re not fine.” Kaveh still has the same gentleness to him, but there’s a certain amount of firmness to his words too. It leaves no room for you to slither your way out of his confrontation. “Are you hurting yourself? Are you starving yourself?”

The words feel like he had just physically assaulted you, as if he had pulled out a knife and stabbed you in the chest while twirling the knife around inside of your heart. The words feel as if Kaveh had just falsely accused you of a crime you hadn’t committed.

But the two of you know better than that. You both know that the reason you feel so attacked is because Kaveh is calling you out, and rightfully so.

“No! No. I am not starving myself.” The words come out much harsher than you had intended them to be, sounding defensive and giving yourself away to Kaveh. The pile of paperwork that needs to be done stares at you mockingly as you look down on the paper in front of you that is still blank.

“I’m just- I don’t want to eat.” It’s half the truth. You do in fact not want to eat, but it’s for all the wrong reasons you don’t want to eat. Kaveh sighs as he gets up from your bed and walks up behind you. For a moment he almost reaches out to you, but he draws his hand back and places it on your chair instead of your shoulder, like he had intended to. He’s reluctant to touch you. In this moment right now, you’re fragile, and he must tread carefully so as to not break you.

“Do you think I don’t see it?” His voice is gentle, but there’s a certain edge to it. It cuts right through any excuses that might slip past your mouth to escape this conversation neither of you want to have. The words have you cornered, and as if you were reliving an experience much like this -where you were confronted and you admitted, only to be rejected from the care and help you needed- you feel a need to run away from him. To run away from your home, from the house, run, run and run. But where would you run? There’s no way for you to run away from him, and even if you did: Where would you run?

Would you even have the energy to run away from him with the way your vision would cloud with black spots covering your sight and with the way your legs feel numb?

Reality hits you like a brick as you realize that Kaveh has you cornered and at his mercy.

A hitched breath escapes your lips as you feel your hands and feet going cold along with being overcome by dreadfulness as the situation you’re in slowly sinks in.

“This is unhealthy, and you know it, don’t you?” It’s not much of a question really. His voice is firm, trying to cover up his own shakiness as your condition dawns upon him. “Please.. could you talk to me?” he pleads, letting his hand fall from the chair, down to your shoulder giving it a comforting squeeze. The contact makes you flinch as it pulls you back from your swarm of thoughts, back into the present with him. The words seem stuck in your mouth, suffocating you and preventing you from voicing your thoughts and feelings that you’re left only shaking your head at his request of opening up. Kaveh lets out a sigh as he lets his hand fall from your shoulder. For a moment, you think he’s given up on you and will leave you alone to deal with your misery by yourself; the thought causes you both pain and relief. Instead, he walks around your chair and crouches next to you as he looks up to you from below.

“Please. Talk to me.” he begins as he balances himself on the armrest all while tilting his head up at you. “What can I do to help you? You can tell me anything.”

“I don’t know!” you finally exclaim as your face falls into your hands. You inhale shakily as Kaveh continues to inspect your face for something, anything.

“I don’t.. know.”

Everything around you spins like an unpleasant merry-go-round ride as your vision becomes clouded by the black spots appearing before you.

One of the consequences of not eating, you suppose.

How you wished that you could’ve kept this secret from him a little longer. Long enough for him to not have to have this confrontation with you right now.

Kaveh can only feel pity as he looks at you. You look so fragile right now, so weak. It hurts him to see you so, to see your body shaking from your hunger.

He has a question that he wants to ask, but he feels afraid to. You don't owe him anything, he supposes.

"Why are you doing this to yourself?" How do you ask someone why they are harming themselves? How do you say that without it coming across in a terrible way? Kaveh had an immense sense of empathy, but even that had its limits.

"I deserve it."

The words slip out your mouth with ease, as if the question had no other answer but that. Tears that you had been holding back from the moment your secret was out swell up in your eyes and threaten to fall down on the blank, empty paper sheet that should’ve been filled in by now. The dripping of your tears resounds in your head and you pray that Kaveh doesn’t hear how you’re covering your paperwork in tears.

"I deserve it." You repeat the words shakily this time as a sob finally manages to escape your mouth. All you want to do is make yourself as small as possible so you can just vanish from the earth’s surface. But you can’t.

So you do the next best thing, which is curling yourself into a ball while you let the tears flow down your cheeks as your entire form tenses up and shakes from the anguish you feel inside of you.

Several feelings washes over Kaveh. Ones of confusion, concern and guilt.

You don't deserve this.

Nobody deserves to feel so low. And you are so, so very low: starving yourself just as a punishment.

He can't help but feel pity for you. The words come out before he can even stop them from slipping past his lips: "Why do you deserve it?"

He's trying to be kind and supportive, he really is, but it's painfully hard for him to find the right words. It’s difficult seeing a loved one tear themselves apart in front of him all while thinking they deserve to suffer and break.

His question is one not even you can answer. It’s a question that you’ve pondered about whenever you’ve come to your senses after having breakdowns much like these, and each time you’re left with no answer. There's only that part of you, that little tiny voice in the back of your head that tells you that you deserve nothing less than pain and suffering. That this is the only way for you to get rid of the mental turmoil you experience on a daily basis.

That the only way to get rid of the emotional and mental pain is to double the physical pain, and what easier way is there to feel physical pain if it isn’t to inflict it upon yourself; by yourself?

How do you help someone who believes that?

It's not like you can just tell them that they don't deserve it. How could he ever convince you that you’re wrong? How can he convince you that there's a better way than starving and hurting yourself?

How is any of this supposed to be okay for you?

"(Y/N)," he calls out your name, the sound of his voice pleading yet somehow still kind, "(Y/N). There is no reason to hurt yourself. You deserve better."

As if you weren’t already curled into a ball you only manage to make yourself smaller as you cry, your entire form shaking. It's not till now that he's so up close to you that he sees how your body is covered in goosebumps and the bruises that linger across your body. They look self-inflicted and Kaveh can't help but let out a wince as he looks at the bruises that cover your skin.

He tries his hardest to contain his horror at seeing what you’ve done to herself. It looks so painful, so terrible, but it's clear from your shivering, from your shaking, from the way your face crumples - from the way you curl up into a ball so easily - that this isn't your first time.

You’re hurting, and at your own hand.

He doesn't know how to process that. He has never seen anyone do this to themselves. He can't imagine how any of this could be good.

Your grip on your legs only grows tightens as you cry into your knees, on the verge of wailing from feeling how your heart aches. It’s as if someone is tightening their grip on your already fragile heart, and it hurts so very much.

You could handle feeling hungry, and you could handle inflicting pain upon yourself, littering your body with bruises to show for it. Yet you couldn’t handle the feelings inside of you that were crushing you and tearing you apart. You had learnt to handle your inner turmoil by ignoring the feelings until they grew so great that the only way to rid yourself of the demons surrounding you was to hurt them through yourself.

The relief was only temporary, sure, but you’d do anything for the moment of peace in your inferno called your own mind.

He sighs heavily, the sound filled with regret and pity. Kaveh doesn’t say anything and remains looking up to your face as you quickly unravel before him.

This is beyond him. He doesn't know how to comfort you- how to help you. He has no idea what to say or what to do. It’s all so overwhelming - all these feelings of fear and confusion and pity and care - that he doesn't even know how to begin to process, let alone express.

He places a gentle, comforting hand on your knee as you continue to cry. You’re so up in your own thoughts and emotions that you can’t get yourself to pull away from his touch.

It’s not that his touch wasn’t comforting. It was very comforting. And that was exactly why you wanted to pull away from his touch.

You don’t deserve that kind of comfort.

"I'm sorry.." the words come out so weak, putting your broken state on full display for Kaveh. A sob escapes your mouth as you try your best regaining your composure to no avail. Each breath you try and take control over gets interrupted by a sob or a gasp for air.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry” you repeat as you burrow your face further into your knees. Your words are slurring as you’re choking back your cries to get the words out of your mouth.

Kaveh doesn't even understand what you could possibly have to be sorry for. You've done nothing wrong. You've committed no sins worth feeling so terrible for.

But how does he tell you that? How could he convince you of the truth that appears so clearly to him but isn’t as obvious for you?

He doesn't.

How does he convince you to get past these terrible feelings of wrongness, when you’re so very convinced that it's your punishment? How does he convince you to give yourself kindness and care, when you believe yourself so unworthy? How does he make you realize that this isn't your fault, that you haven't done anything that deserves all of this?

Kaveh moves closer to you - so carefully, so slowly. As if you’re something fragile, to be treated with respect and care. Because you are fragile. You’re hurt, and you’re so, so small. All he wants to do is to hold you, to bring you comfort, to hug you, to hold you in his arms. He just wants to lift your heavy burden off of your shoulders. But he doesn’t reach out to do any of that, it doesn’t feel appropriate to do so right now as you’re sobbing in front of him and curling yourself into a ball.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," he says quietly. "You're hurting yourself, and that can't be okay. Please," he adds, his voice pleading, "Let me try to help you. You don't have to do this. You don't deserve to do this."

You had always had a hard time accepting other people’s kindness and comfort, it was extremely difficult for you to understand and wrap your head around the concept of being treated with decency and care from another being without expecting anything back in return. The feelings overwhelm you and you feel how you want to throw up from Kaveh’s attentiveness, it’s all too much for you.

You’d rather have him walk out on you and leave you in your pitiful state to fend for yourself. It’s what you’re used to. And when he breaks what you consider a norm, your world falls apart with it.

The tears flow down your cheeks as if they’ll never come to an end.

Kaveh can see it from the way you gasp and wail when his words of care finally register.

It’s written all over your face - your pain, your hurt - it’s clear that you’re not used to being treated with such care and attention. It’s clear that this isn’t something you’re used to; it’s clear that you’re not used to having someone trying to help you.

It breaks Kaveh’s heart to see you struggle like this. He doesn’t know how he can get you to accept this treatment from him, from anyone.

He wants nothing in return; he only wants to help. How can he get you to understand that? How could he ever assure someone that they’re deserving of unconditional care and love when that very someone is so fully convinced that they deserve pain?

"You need help," he says quietly. "Let me help you."

Why do you deserve to suffer, to hurt yourself, when you’ve done nothing wrong? Why are you so cruel to yourself? Kaveh lets the thought wander in his head for some time before he shakes his head in disbelief. He can’t come to any reasonable conclusion as to why you’d be so cruel to yourself. He could only speculate.

Is this why you hurt yourself? The thought intrudes him, as he tries to stay focused on comforting you.

Because you feel like you don’t deserve kindness?

But why? Why wouldn't you deserve kindness? This isn't because of any mistakes you’ve made, is it? Has someone made you believe this? Or is it something that you’ve always thought? Either way, you’re wrong. You deserve kindness. You deserve the world.

You deserve to be treated well.

"You deserve so much better," he says quietly, "You aren't pitiful. I promise you that you are so much more than what you tell yourself you are."

Kaveh places his hands on top of yours as he rubs comforting circles with his thumb on the back of your palms. Another sob escapes your lips at his attempts to soothe your ache. He can feel the way you tremble under his hands as he gives you a gentle squeeze of comfort to stabilize your quivering form, even if it's just by a little bit. He keeps rubbing, still trying to help you. Neither of you say anything and the only thing to be heard in the room is the sound of your rapid breathing and hitched sobs. And while the tremors still persist, your sobs are becoming less frantic. He thinks he might be comforting her just slightly, but it's good enough for now. At least it’s a start.

Kaveh wants to say something, but he doesn't know what to say. He's never been in a situation like this before. He doesn't want to sound like an idiot. But he also doesn't want to stay silent.

He cannot bear to see you like this, and he doesn't want to imagine how much pain you’ve been carrying for you to end up here like this.

He wants so badly for you to be okay. He wants nothing more than to give you his care and comfort. Kaveh gets up from his crouching position and feels his legs tingle from sitting like that for so long, but he ignores it. It’s not important right now. What is, is you and your wellbeing.

He assumes that if you responded positively to having him rub your hand, then maybe you'd respond better to affectionate comfort. Kaveh is reluctant at first. A hug is much more personal, much more intimate than drawing circles on someone's palm. So he asks.

"Is it okay if I hug you?"

You tense up at the request reluctantly. Granted, you and Kaveh would usually greet one another by giving a quick hug with a pat on the back before getting to it. But this was different. Much different from those lighthearted moments you’d share before you go off to wherever you had planned on doing for the day, whether that was taking a walk amongst the streets of the city or just enjoying one another's presence as you work deliberately.

You’re hesitant, and Kaveh is about to reassure you that it’s fine if you don’t want to until he sees a small nod coming from you. Your eyes quickly dart down to meet his before you avert your gaze from him, feeling the shame and embarrassment crawl along your back amongst the other feelings that roam inside of you.

Kaveh is quick to act as he pulls you into his embrace.

He holds you protectively, as if he just holds you close enough to him he'll be able to shield you from the cold, cruel world that's hurt you so. You just want to hold on to him. Just wants him to hold you, to hug you and hold you close to him.

The warmth is so comforting, so very comforting that the little voice in your head tells you that you aren't worthy of this kind of affection. That you don’t deserve to be cared for like this, and a part of you still holds onto that truth. Despite that, you cling onto him as if he were your lifeline, the very last thread that was keeping you from floating away. You want this- you’ve been yearning for someone to hold you like this, and even though a loud part of you disagrees- that part of you that tells you that you’re not deserving of this- you can’t help but bask in his warmth that he provides for you.

The plate on your bedside table catches his eye, long forgotten. The food had obviously gone cold by now. Whatever, Kaveh thinks. It doesn’t matter, he can always just warm it up later. What matters is that he helps you back on your feet and support you through this.

You don’t have to fend for yourself anymore. He’s here now, and he’ll help you through it. He may not be capable of chasing away your demons for you, but you’ll always have his endless support.

He’ll spend an eternity if it means he could make you believe that you deserve everything.

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