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celestie0 · 19 days ago

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gojo satoru x reader | fake marriage au [18+]

in holy matriphony ch6. the in-laws

ᰔ pairing. fake marriage au - neighbor&realtor!gojo x nurse!reader (ft. choso x reader & suguru x reader)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is your extremely annoying next-door-neighbor who you're pretty sure is the most insufferable man you've ever met. given the fact that you exclusively work the night shift at a chaotic emergency dept, just got broken up with your boyfriend of seven years, and have been taking care of your sick mother ever since her multitude of diagnoses, yet somehow your neighbor is the main source of stress in your life should speak volumes. but when your mother's medical bills start to skyrocket to more than you can manage, and you learn that said neighbor of yours has the best private health insurance plan in the country, you ask him to enter a matrimonial agreement with you for the spousal benefits all in the name of saving a few hundred thousand dollars. but you'll have to see if suffering cohabitation w him is worth any amount of money.

ᰔ genre/tags. fluff, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), annoyances to lovers (that's more like it), small town romance, fake marriage, next door neighbors, lots of bickering, suburban shenanigans, slow burn, mutual pining, gojo likes to play house but you don't, hatred for the american healthcare system, gojo always forgets to mow the lawn, jealousy, an insane amount of profanity, mentions of cigarettes, depression/anxiety; btw gojo in this fic is in his mid 30s n reader is in her late 20s

ᰔ warnings. reader in this fic has a sick mother w alzheimer's & cancer so there is secondary medical angst!!

ᰔ chapter. 6/x

ᰔ words. 12.6k

a/n. hiii my ihm lovelies!! hope you all had a great holiday season. i wanted to get this chapter out as a christmas gift but i failed and then i wanted to get it out as a new years post but failed and then i got food poisoning yesterday and while i was rotting in bed i ended up finishing the chapter LOL. it seems i can only write when i'm under duress? but anywho. hope you enjoy haha and see you at the bottom!

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“Alright, let’s head out,” you hear Gojo say from the bottom of the staircase, followed by the sound of dress shoes on the hardwood floor, and you glance over to see him clad in a navy suit with a white button up shirt that had one singular button undone. He’s messing with the cuffs of his suit jacket as he makes his way over to you. You catch the scent of his cologne, and it’s alarming how familiar it’s become to you.

Days go by shorter lately, mainly because it’s winter, and so the sun has almost fully set by 6pm. The sky outside is a dark hue of purple, seen past the windows of Gojo’s house, and the warm, dim lighting inside makes you feel strangely nostalgic. Like in a way that feels like home.

You tirelessly tousle with your hair at the mirror hanging above the foyer table that was snug up against the wall at the front entrance. Your hair wasn’t cooperating. You attempted to curl it, for the first time in forever given you can’t remember the last time you had enough time to do your hair, so you were out of practice. It was obvious, given the way some strands were curled outwards from your face, some inwards, some straighter than others, some curlier than others, and you were about to have a full blown mental breakdown before you remember your grounding exercises– 1, 2, 3, 4.

You turn to face Gojo, who you saw in the mirror was standing behind you and watching you with amusement, and you breathe in deep. “How do I look?” you ask, petting down the fabric of your dress as you face him. The thought occurs to you–why do you give so much of a fuck how you look right now? It’s just Gojo’s family. It’s not like they’re actually your in-laws. And from what Gojo’s mother had told you, it was just an intimate little get-together with Sana’s family. It’s really not a big deal. Yet the necessity to impress still consumes you.

Gojo threads his hands into the pockets of his pants and tilts his head to assess your appearance, and you watch his gaze trace the frame of you. “Nice,” he says, “you look nice.”

“That’s it? Just nice?”

“Well, I tried to call you hot earlier, but it got me yelled at.”

You roll your eyes and grab your purse off the foyer table, “okay, whatever, I’ll take it.” And then you head towards the front door. You hear the jingle of car keys from behind you as they’re shoved into a pocket.

The outside air is chilly in a way that’s almost sobering. Gojo opens the door for you to get inside his car and the warmth of your peach cobbler in your lap comforts some of the nerves you felt. By the time Gojo clicks his seatbelt into place in the driver seat, you realize you’ve never been in his car before, or driven anywhere by him before.

The interior smells of pine and something more familiar too, with sleek leather seats that are so comfortable they make you feel like you’re floating. You know it’s a Benz, you’re just not sure what year or model, and you’d usually ask most people out of a friendly curiosity, but for some reason your pride always got the best of you when it came to him.

“I seriously can’t wait to eat that thing you made,” Gojo comments after he’s backed out of the driveway, “it looks really nice.”

“Do you have a sweet tooth?” you ask him, glancing over at him, and you try not to stare at the strong one-handed grip he has on the steering wheel as he corrects it.

“Oh yeah,” he answers, “big time.”

“You don’t seem like it,” you mindlessly say, turning your head to glance out into the dim street, passing by houses that idly sit in this neighborhood.

“Why’s that?” he asks.

“You seem to maintain a steady weight,” you politely comment.

You can hear the smile in his voice. “Is that the closest I’ll ever get to a compliment from you?”

You roll your eyes. “It’s just science. Hard to maintain a build if you eat a lot of sugar.”

He turns onto the mainroad, and you keep your gaze plastered to the outside. “I seem to manage.”

“It’s because you're tall. Tall people get to eat whatever they want.”

You see him nod his head once in your periphery, and you take it as some form of dismissal. “Sure.”

It doesn’t take terribly long to get to Gojo’s parents’ house, just a thirty-five minute drive without traffic. He kept surprisingly silent throughout most of it, and the few moments you did glance at his face, you could even say he looked like he was deep in thought. With a creased brow, a grip on the steering wheel that sometimes faltered, sometimes strengthened, but rarely fully eased. It was all so different from his usual impulse to talk. You know that you often wish for Gojo to shut the fuck up sometimes, but the silence seemed unsettling today.

His parents’ house is large, maybe twice the size of the homes in your neighborhood, but it’s tucked away in a slightly remote area, where the next closest house is about a quarter of a mile down the road. The driveway is long and runs downhill, so you stumble a little on the high heel of your shoe when you step down onto the pebbled pavement, but Gojo holds your elbow so you don’t fall onto your face. And also so you don’t drop the peach cobbler he so desperately wants to try. You’re not sure which of the two was the bigger priority for him.

As you two walk up the driveway towards the front entrance, you hear him sigh behind you. “Just so you know, my mom doesn’t really have any sense of boundaries.”

“Ah,” you comment, “nice to know where you get it from.”

He gives you an irritated look, seen in the corner of your eye, and it’s hard to fight the small amused smile that makes its way onto your face.

He sighs again as you two make it to the top of the steps. “Seriously, though. Chances of you wanting to leave me after this dinner are high.”

“Why? You’ve got a hot older brother I don’t know about or something?”

“I am the hot older brother,” he tells you.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, and then face him fully. “You’re not the first guy that’s warned me about his parents, okay? I’ll handle my own. What good is life if your in-laws–er, fake in-laws–aren’t at least a little strange?”

He lifts his finger to the doorbell, and just before pressing it, he says, “alright, then.”

It only takes twelve seconds for the door to swing open, the aroma of fresh herbs and something more sultry like vetiver arouse your senses, along with a warmth beckoning you from the inside of the home.

Gojo’s mother stands at the doorway, surrounded by a halo of warm lighting, and her face instantly morphs into one of delightful glee.

“Oh! My dear, you’ve made it!” she exclaims happily, and just when you think she’s about to pull Gojo in for a hug, she pulls you in for one first instead, which startles you. “How lovely!”

“Oh—” you stutter, stumbling slightly as your nose becomes buried in the fluff of her silk pressed hair, but the delicate fragrance of lilac is somehow comforting.

She pulls you away to hold you by your shoulders. “You poor thing, you’re shivering! Come inside.” She hastily ushers you inside and you can feel the heat from Gojo’s body as he follows closely on your tail.

When his mother closes the door behind you, you find yourself surrounded by the kind of warmth only a house could provide.

You take a small look around the foyer, noticing that it’s large with tones of deep wood and a bright white and golden chandelier that hangs daintily above in the cavity of the high ceilings. Leather, wood, velvet, silk, these are the textures that you see as you look around. It’s an old-fashioned taste, with a polished grand piano off to the right in the hall and display cases of vintage dolls and porcelain plates. So very different from modern, but it’s comforting. Like a wave of nostalgia, but from something you’ve never experienced before.

“What’s this?” Mrs. Gojo asks with curiosity lilting her voice as she walks up to you and points at the casserole dish you were holding.

“Oh, it’s peach cobbler,” you say, holding it up slightly with a small smile adorning your face, “for dessert.”

“How sweet! You’re an angel,” she coos, then twists her torso towards the kitchen, “honey! Come here, will you?”

Shuffling down the hallway from the heart of the house is, who you presume to be, Mr. Gojo. He’s tall, with his shoulders slightly curved forward as he approaches you all, and you note that he looks more aged than his missus.

“Ah, this must be my new daughter-in-law,” he says, his voice gruff and crackly from years of use. You smell the faintest hint of smoke from his clothing.

You glance at Gojo, who is watching you interact with his parents, an unreadable expression on his face as his hands remain shoved into the pocket of his suit pants.

Mr. Gojo takes the peach cobbler from you and gives you a curt smile before taking it back towards the kitchen.

“Darling, I must say, you have a lovely figure—” Gojo’s mother begins to say, reaching her hand out to hover it over the curve of your waist, but just at that moment, Gojo comes up to stand in between the two of you.

“Alright, what time’s dinner?” he asks.

Mrs. Gojo glances up at him, her face immediately twisting into a frown. “Nevermind that. I want to take y/n with me back to the kitchen to help braise the chicken,” she says, grabbing a hold of your wrist and tugging you towards her.

“Oh—” you stumble slightly.

“Nope,” you hear Gojo say from beside you, and suddenly there’s a strong arm wrapping around your waist as he pulls you back to his side, “she stays with me for the night.” You’d remember to blush at the feeling of being pressed flush up against him, but the shock overshadowed.

“Satoru!” Mrs. Gojo exclaims, rather loudly, and she lets out a hmph noise before placing her hands on her hips. “You’re no fun!”

“I’m not gonna let you indoctrinate her into whatever multi-level marketing scheme you’ve fallen victim to this month,” he says, his hold on your waist tightening.

“How petulant!” she says, trying to manage a stern look but Gojo doesn’t seem fazed by it, “quit acting like I’m going to corrupt her! I’m not some witch.”

“Your track record would prove otherwise,” he comments.

“Oh please, the only other time was when you brought—”

She suddenly stops speaking, her eyes going wide, and she glances at you. You cluelessly tilt your head at her.

Ah. The other woman. This mysterious ex-wife. Would you be the other woman in this case? Seeing as to how his entire family seems to walk on eggshells about the subject around you. And they all seem to think that any mention of her would devastate you, when really, you and Gojo aren’t even actually lovers.

But there’s a small part of you,

A teeny tiny part,

Revealed from the way your heart sank at the realization of who his mother was referring to,

That actually does feel some type of way about it.

You want to know who this woman was to him. Does he still think of her? Does he still love her? What happened between them? Was she the one that got away? And how does he feel about the fact that he’s now here with you?

You shake your head vigorously to get those thoughts out of your head.

It was like method acting. You stepped into the role of wife this evening, and now you feel the way that they expect you to feel at the mention of your husband’s ex-lover.

That must be the reason, right?

You slowly push yourself out of Gojo’s hold, and you try not to become hyper aware of his eyes on you as you smooth out the fabric of your dress, then you glance at his mother.

“I’d love to help you braise the chicken,” you say.

There’s a brief silence as you find your voice in this house, and then Mrs. Gojo flashes you a grin.

“Come with me, honey,” she says before wrapping a delicate hand around your wrist and pulling you towards the heart of the house.

There are pictures hung up on the walls as you brush past every hallway, along with peeling wallpaper that is peppered with florals and striped prints, sanded off from years of shoulders brushing against their surfaces in a way that creates an old, dated charm. You learn quickly that Gojo has always been pretty tall, judging from the photo of him standing with, whom you assume are his middle school friends, out on a boat, holding a bass the size of a small child.

There’s photos of the four of them together, like one professionally taken photo where Gojo and Sana are knelt in front of their parents, and your gaze fixates on the strong grip Mr. Gojo has on his son’s shoulder, digging deep in the bone, creasing the fabric, almost desperately. Gojo looks young in the photo, maybe a recent high school graduate, and his smile is bright but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

And, God, the trophies. The trophies that adorned the surfaces of aged cedar wood dressers, seemingly random in the order they are sprawled across the display yet you know there was intention behind it too. Ballet, soccer, tennis, spelling bee, FRC, even dragon boat racing.

“Feel free to take any of those home,” Mrs. Gojo says with a teasing tone, “you eventually get tired of staring at them.”

You wouldn’t know. Your mother never had much extra cash hanging around to take you to tennis lessons, or ballet lessons, or SAT prep, or whatever. You were lucky enough that you got into college with the cards you were dealt, but you sometimes wonder what your potential could’ve been if you had parents like Gojo did. Maybe the house you live in would be your own, and not something that your mother has spent the past forty years of her life trying to pay off. Maybe you’d have a freshly renovated kitchen and a pretty boat out on the street. But throwing a pity party for yourself right now wasn’t exactly going to get you through the evening.

Mrs. Gojo finally leads you into the kitchen, and the aroma of fresh herbs overwhelms your senses.

“Smells wonderful,” you comment.

“I know,” she cheekily comments, “will you turn the meat please?”

You grab a pair of tongs and attempt to sear the cuts that were sizzling on the stove.

“Sooooo,” she coos, wasting no time to playfully bump her hip to yours, “how is married life?”

“Nice,” you respond, your cheeks warming slightly, “it’s nice.”

“It won’t always be that way, you know,” she muses with some underlying sense of sincerity that isn’t lost on you.

When you remain quiet, concentrating on the searing sizzling noises coming from the pan, she decides to keep speaking.

“Eventually, you two will settle in a little too much…start to care less about your bodies…and then, oh gosh, when kids come into the picture, forget about having any time for yourselves,” she continues, “some days you’ll resent him, others you’ll feel like it’s the first time all over again.” She sighs. “Marriage is a funny thing—”

“Mrs. Gojo,” you interrupt her, turning to face her, “I—…I really appreciate you, I do, but, um, I’ve already learned a lot already about marriage from my own parents. Things are fine between Satoru and me.” You look into her widened eyes. “And…if something does happen down the line, and we choose not to be together anymore, then that’s okay too.”

After all, you had to prepare her.

“But that’s the thing!” she chirps, “your generation is too—…too impatient. Unwilling to work anything out! A marriage is supposed to be hard, but also it’s something you aren’t supposed to give up on so easily.”

It’s your turn to meet her with widened eyes in response to her preaching, and her posture immediately deflates before she holds you gently by your arm.

“I’m sorry, honey…I know it’s too early to be saying all these things to you,” she says, managing a small smile, “I always forget that I’m too old to be doting on my children like this anymore.”

Your expression softens and you wrap your palm over her bony knuckles, feeling the thinness of the skin that stretches over them. In a brief glimpse, you see your own mother in Mrs. Gojo’s eyes, something familiar, a universal expression of the love a parent has for their child.

“Well…” you say after clearing your throat, “for what it’s worth, you have nothing to worry about, Mrs. Gojo.” You try to manage a small smile. “I’m—…I’m really happy with your son.”

It was hard to lie to someone like this, especially from the way there’s relief that floods her irises, a genuine feeling that is so hard to come by in these days of false niceties. You often wonder how far a single white lie can stretch before it shatters against its own resistance.

“That’s a relief,” she says, managing her own prim smile, “I’m so glad.”

The two of you finish up in the kitchen, and when you circle around back into the hall, you see Sana standing in the warmly lit family room with Gojo and their dad.

Sana catches your eye, and you purse your lips together hesitantly before walking up to her.

“Hey,” you say softly and she returns the small smile you give her.

“Hi,” she says back to you.

“Um, where’s Juno?” you ask, looking around.

“Oh, she has a sleepover at her friend’s house tonight,” Sana says, “Jun’s dropping her off, and then he’ll come by here later.”

“Ah, I see,” you comment, itching at your elbow from the awkwardness.

“Well,” Mr. Gojo says, gesturing towards the dining room, “let’s eat, shall we?”

The three of you nod at him.

It’s fascinating to watch how the family falls naturally into their chairs, an assigned seating pattern that stays consistent among all dining halls and rooms and tables in the world, one that every family has. Mr. Gojo sits at the head of the table, his wife to his left, his son to his right. Sana sits quaintly to her mother’s left, and you sit across from her to Gojo’s left. The one empty seat is left for the presence of Jun.

“Food looks wonderful, darling,” Mr. Gojo says before leaning over to place a kiss on her bashful cheek.

Your heart does something weird at the sight. A simultaneous twinge paired with a warmer feeling that follows. You hardly witnessed any affection within your household growing up, not between your parents at least, probably because you were young when they got divorced and so the turmoils and tribulations started long before you had any higher order of cognitive discernment beyond the childish interest in Disney princesses and The Backyardigans. For you, the only memories that last of your parents’ marriage are those that feel like nothing more than the frigidity of a business arrangement. Ironically similar to the one you were currently in with Gojo. Except at least yours hadn’t been initially built on a foundation of love and a promise to be there for one another until death did you two apart.

Death was knocking on your mother’s doorstep now. But your father was nowhere to be found. So much for a vow.

Mr. Gojo pours his son a glass of whiskey, single malt as read on the label. Mrs. Gojo pours you and Sana a glass of red wine, and you try to hide the grimace, because you would’ve much rather had the whiskey.

“To y/n,” Mr. Gojo says, raising his glass up into the air, “for being our newest addition to the family.”

You all clink your glasses together, then in a variety of pairings, the last one being the tap of Gojo’s glass against yours, before you all take a drink.

“So…” Mrs. Gojo speaks up, “exactly how long have the two of you been married?”

You glance at Gojo for help, which isn’t exactly an unsuspecting thing to do.

“Four weeks,” he says.

You watch Mrs. Gojo’s eyes twitch. You can understand. Her own son gets married and doesn’t tell her anything about it for four weeks after the wedding. Well, in your case, a courthouse arrangement.

“Where did you two go for your honeymoon?” she asks, and Mr. Gojo clears his throat.

You look at Gojo for help again, and mentally pinch yourself for not being more discreet about how fake this whole thing is.

But Gojo surprisingly looks at ease. “Greece,” he says, and leaves it at that.

Mrs. Gojo’s body language turns to you, clearly irritated by her son’s short and curt answers. “Did you have a fun time, dear?”

“Oh! Yes, it was a very fun time. Definitely did all the newly wed stuff. Just as normal newlyweds do, you know. Because we are newlyweds,” you say through an awkward cough.

“Like…?” Mrs. Gojo pushes, and you can tell that she’s asking out of a genuine curiosity over the itinerary you two had allegedly carried out, but you crack under the pressure.

“W—…We made love,” you say, “we made lots and lots of love.”

The sound of silverware clanking onto ceramic plates startles you out of the blissful ignorance you had to the words that you had just said. Like you were so caught up in your mind about wanting to seem like an actual real life couple to his parents that you almost forgot about the number one social rule when meeting your (fake) significant other’s parents: no references to copulation.

You glance up to find Mrs. Gojo’s eyes are wide, a slight tinge of pink to her cheeks. The width of Mr. Gojo’s eyes match his wife’s except his expression is also duly accompanied by a furrowed, perplexed brow. Sana looks visibly uncomfortable, shifting in her seat and trying hard to put on a poker face as she pretends like she didn’t just hear what you said.

You finally glance at Gojo, who’s looking at you with the most what the fuck? face you’ve ever seen someone make, and there’s concern on there somewhere too, like he’s not even fully convinced that you’re mentally sane at the moment because why on God’s green Earth would you say something like that at a family dinner table.

Trying your best to laugh it off, you say, “ah…ahaha, d-did I say make love? I meant–I meant that we–”

“Just–” Gojo interrupts you. “Just stop.”

Everyone are still stunned silent and the flush to your cheeks grows warmer. While clearing your throat, you set your lap napkin up on the table and clumsily scootch yourself out of your chair.

“Ex…cuse…me...” you mumble under your breath, knocking the table with your knee on accident, your wine glass almost toppling all over the pretty linen tablecloth but your reflexes catch the stem to steady it. “I need to…use the restroom.” And then you head straight down the hallway without sparing them another glance.

“Use the upstairs one!” Mrs. Gojo calls out to you, “the guest bathroom is under renovation.”

“Of fucking course it is,” you mutter under your breath, but flash them a polite smile before rounding the staircase pillar and then briskly walking up the stairs.

You quickly realize there’s more personality to the house upstairs, with some clutter in the theater loft and mismatching decorations that don’t reveal the careful deliberation of an indoor designer. The master bedroom is directly to the right of the top of the staircase and you glance across the loft at a narrow hallway that leads into the three bedrooms tucked away into the heart of the house.

One foot after the other, you float in that direction as if some force were compelling you towards it. Some trance of curiosity that no human being could ever resist. It’s fine. You didn’t actually need to piss anyways.

The first bedroom you walk past is rather boring, with beige tones all around. Beige bed sheets, beige wall paint, beige lamp shade, beige curtains. But the air smells crisp, and you notice there’s a shelf that has about half a dozen plants lined up in a variety of artistic pots. Similar to the set-up Gojo has in his house at home. You walk inside and brush your fingers across the dresser surface, rubbing fine dust over the pads of your fingers, and with your next inhale, you sneeze.

A guest bedroom, you think to yourself.

The next bedroom you walk past is sweeter, kinder, warmer. There’s pink hues scattered across, the most obvious one being the pillow covers, and there are some shades of a baby blue as well. But the furniture looks modern, sleek, and new. There were two identities at war in the room, like that of a little girl and a grown woman. Neither able to find its voice among the chaos of friendship bracelets sprawled across the desk and the Louis Vuitton purse resting at the foot of the bed.

Sana’s room, you think to yourself.

Childhood bedrooms are like time capsules if left untouched for very long. You’ve lived in your room at home for as long as you can remember, only recently having shifted to the master bedroom. The room grew up with you. It had no chance to become some entity of its own.

The next bedroom you walk by feels familiar, even before you walk inside. There’s a comforting feeling that envelopes just from the lighting alone. You push the door open with a gentle palm.

The culprit of any young man’s room–navy blue sheets. Stretched taut against a made-up bed that has some sort of feminine flair to it, like it wasn’t set by Gojo, but rather his mother passing by his room one day to sit in his absence, only to needlessly mess with the sheets because it gave her a sense of purpose. You go eighteen years pouring blood, sweat, and tears into raising a child, protecting them, nurturing them, being the one they lean on for all of life’s woes, only for them to pack up and leave one day. You suppose that if you were a parent, you would find melancholy in that loss of responsibility too.

His desk is a large expanse of cedar wood with a desktop monitor and some bookshelf speakers set up on it. The PC itself has collected dust over the years but there’s a small mechanical whirring noise you hear somewhere within. The rest of the desk is mostly empty except for some unopened mail tucked away with some books, the spines creased at the last few hundred pages, but never to the end.

You pick one of the books up, flipping the pages open, and see sticky notes on some of them. Like English literature notes one would take in class, with studious words that over exaggerate the significance of the prose just to make a teacher happy. Who cares if the curtains were blue? Maybe the author just wanted them to be blue. Why does everything in life have to have meaning?

Setting the book back down with a sigh, you walk over to the bookshelf. There are some more trophies, some sets of comic books, some strange robotic-looking figurines. Small picture frames of foreign scenery are set up in different corners wherever there is empty space, like an afterthought.

“Hmm…” you hum to yourself, tilting your head to the side to read the vertical spine of a thick black book that was tucked flush up against the shelf's side.

West Valley High School. Class of 2007.

With your index finger hooking the spine, you slowly pull the book out from its comfy corner. It’s heavy in your hands and you notice that there are ink smudges across the tips of your fingers.

When you open the cover, you’re met with a page filled with a variety of colors and handwriting, and you realize they’re signatures. And to no one’s surprise, most of them are feminine. With hearts, some merely outlines, some shaded in with ink, scattered across the page. Bubbly handwriting, neat handwriting, cursive handwriting, a lot of it in pinks and purples and reds. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think it was like those Valentine’s Day cards all the girls would sign in grade school to pass onto their crush, except imagine if all of them were intended for just one guy.

You roll your eyes as you flip the pages, seeing no end in sight to the signed ink. I mean, come on, how many signature pages does a yearbook even need? This was excessive. And, no, you aren’t bitter simply because your high school yearbook has maybe a max of fifteen signatures (four of which were from your teachers). It’s just frustrating. And confusing. Why does everyone on this planet adore Gojo except you? Is there something wrong with you? Are you the problem?

There are some signatures from boys too, most likely his friends. Otherwise, you’re not sure what random fleeting classmate you’ve only spoken to a couple times would be brazen enough to draw pictures of penises squirting in whatever empty space they could find in your yearbook, if not for his high school friends. These boys are probably in their mid thirties now, just as Gojo is, maybe with wives and kids they’re now responsible for. You wonder if they’d still find the drawings funny all the same today.

You flip the pages more, taking in image after image after image of smiling portraits. ABC…DE…F…ah, G. Hmm, there. There it was.

Gojo Satoru.

Seems like his high school didn’t allow yearbook quotes, but you try to imagine what his would be. Probably something corny and lame, like See kids? I told you I was sexy in high school.

He looks cute though. With his hair fluffy, boyishly ruffled to pair with a charming smile that’s at ease. He just looks a little younger, that’s all. Not that much different. Perhaps a bit more scrawny, a bit more mischievous-looking. As opposed to his adult self, who appears sturdy. More serious. But you realize that cheeky part of him that comes out every now and then when he’s teasing you or pissing you off is that boy within him that looks exactly like the portrait in this yearbook that you trace with the pad of your finger.

You close the book, suddenly a little out of breath, and then slip it back into place. Your eyes catch the shimmer of the trophy at the top of the shelf. It was shaped like a baseball glove mitt, and in the palm cup, there is an actual baseball in there with a black ink signature. You gently pick it up and turn it in your palm to try and read the ink.

Ichiro.

Your dad used to watch baseball. You’re familiar. Seattle Mariners, Ichiro Suzuki. The first Japanese player to ever make it to the Major Leagues. Ten time all-star, and tenth member of the Mariners hall of fame. He retired when you were just a little girl, but you still remember the look of awe in your father’s eyes as he stared at the box TV in the living room of your house when Ichiro took his last stand at the plate.

Gojo was also a boy at that time. Living in this house. Maybe his old man was watching that game at the same time. And maybe Gojo was watching the look on his father’s face, too. It’s the romance of life–you look up at the moon in the sky, and you know that there is someone else out there, someone that you’ll meet some day, maybe even someone that will mean the world to you someday, who’s looking at it too. But you just don’t know it yet.

Lost in endless, rather fruitless thought, you continue to turn the baseball in your hand to pointlessly assess the seams, but it slips out of your hand and onto the carpeted floor with a loud hollow thud that startles you, and when you attempt to bend down and pick it up, you accidentally push it with your toe and it rolls underneath the bed.

“Shit,” you mumble, getting down onto your hands and knees to look underneath the bed.

You see the ball rolled a few feet away, and when you reach for it, it becomes clear that you don’t have the arm span to grab it. You struggle and you struggle, the tips of your fingers barely tickling its seam, and the frustration makes you sweat a little.

“Come…here…you…stupid…thing,” you mutter. You’re sure your hair is a static mess now, too.

You finally manage to roll it towards you a couple inches and then your palm wraps around it before pulling it to your shoulder, but not without something collateral that’s dragged along with it.

A photograph. Printed out, vintage. You pinch the corner between your two fingers and stand back up onto your two feet in order to better assess the image under the light of the floor lamp.

The first person you notice in the photo is Gojo. He looks younger than in the yearbook, but he’s wearing a suit and a tie. It’s a little big on him, ill-fitting as most teenage boys should look in a suit, like a rite of passage. His smile is less warm than the one in the yearbook too, more prim and stretched into a thin line that’s only slightly curved upwards. It’s only then when you notice the slender fingers sprawled across his chest near the collar of his undershirt, black nail polish blending in with the fabric of the suit. Your eyes trail the dainty hand, and your heart skips a beat when you see a girl standing next to him, pressed up against him, her smile much brighter than his. Pink braces line her teeth and her hair is that classic mid-2000s side-swept bang mess, but she’s pretty. Dressed in a pink-ish purple gown that almost looks like a bridesmaids dress, and you finally see the banner stretched across behind the both of them in the picture that reads Homecoming 2005.

It’s hard to explain it, but you can just feel it somehow. That this person is important to him. Not just some last-minute date to Homecoming, or an old high school girlfriend he’s long since lost touch with. It seems larger than that, somehow. Unlike penises drawn on yearbook paper, this feels like something a person never outgrows.

Of course, people have lived fully-fledged lives before you’ve met them. Just as you have as well. But you’re overtaken by the insane curiosity to want to learn every single detail about this past life that Gojo has lived. Where did he and his friends hang out after school? When did he learn how to drive? When was the first time he got shit-faced drunk? When was the first time he snuck out of the house? And who was this girl in the picture?

“Find what you’re lookin’ for yet?” a voice calls out, entirely startling you to where you almost jolt out of your skin, and you swiftly turn on your heel towards the entrance of the room.

You see Gojo standing in the door frame, leaning against it with his arms crossed as he levels his gaze at you. He has a blank expression on his face, although you would say it’s more serious than playful.

“What–...I–” you stutter, shuffling the picture you were holding behind your back so he doesn’t see.

His eyes don’t flit to the movement. “You don’t have to tear the room apart to find my illicit drugs. You could’ve just asked.”

You roll your eyes. “As if you would do drugs.”

“You say that like it’s an insult.”

“It is.”

“So, then, if you’re not looking for drugs, what are you looking for?”

Your cheeks are warm. “I don’t know. Petty cash? Human body parts? Playboy?”

He snorts. “Playboy? Who still has a subscription to Playboy?”

“Maybe your teenage self did.”

“I’m not that old,” he says, “I was watching porn like the rest of my peers.”

“Ew, you freak,” you say, and you grab one of his pillows and throw it at him.

He lets out a laugh before catching the pillow with ease, and then walks up to you, placing the pillow on top of your head. You half-glare, half-pout at him.

“C’mon,” he probes, “tell me why you’re hiding away up here.”

“I embarrassed myself,” you confide in him with a sulk of your shoulders. “I mean. Seriously. What the fuck was that? What a humiliating thing to say in front of your parents. I just feel so weird pretending like this.”

His expression softens. “Sorry,” he says, “for dragging you into this dinner.”

“No,” you sigh, “I’m the one that did. I forgot you can’t necessarily fake a marriage without…doing the typical couple things.”

“Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm,” he hums as his gaze flits towards the bed, “doing the typical couple things, you say?”

You roll your eyes. “In your dreams.”

“Oh, in my dreams alright,” he says with a grin.

“And if I strangled you? What then?”

“I like that. It’s kinky.”

“And I’m supposed to believe you don’t have magazines lying around?”

“Brown box underneath the bed. You didn’t look hard enough.”

You give him a disgusted look. He laughs.

“I’m joking,” he says, pushing his hands into his pockets.

“I’m not convinced,” you say, turning your body away from him slightly to keep the photo hidden behind your back.

He tilts his head at you, gaze flickering down to your other hand. Your heart skips a beat. “I could’ve guessed that.”

His hand reaches out and you flinch ever so slightly, something he thankfully doesn’t notice, and then he’s grabbing the baseball out of your palm.

“I always thought I could sell this thing for major money,” he muses, throwing the ball up into the air to catch it. And then doing so again a couple times.

“It’s authentic?” you ask with genuine curiosity.

“Oh yeah. I caught it. First ball game my old man ever took me to, and it happened to be Ichiro’s last.”

Your eyes widen. Gojo was at that game. He wasn’t just watching it from home on some TV like you did with your dad. He was living in it.

“Wow,” you say, “must’ve been quite the game.”

“Don’t really remember too much about it to be honest, other than how stoked I was to just be there with my dad.”

“Mm,” you hum, “I’ll have to ask Mr. Gojo more about it when we get downstairs.”

His expression falters slightly, his smile dropping in the most subtle way that you wouldn’t have even noticed if you hadn’t been intently staring at his face.

“Yeah,” he says, “maybe.”

Gojo continues to stare at the ball in his palm as he rotates it in inspection. There’s an awkward silence that settles between the two of you, and you feel the burden of conversation has suddenly fallen on you.

“My, um. My dad was a fan too,” you say.

His eyes glance up to meet yours. “How come I’ve never met him?”

The question catches you off guard. “Wh–...I’m sorry, what?”

“Your dad,” he says, as if it was something so casual.

“That–...well, he’s–...I don’t know, I haven’t seen him in years,” you admit, “not since…not since my mother was diagnosed with cancer.”

He stares at you earnestly, studying your expression, before he decides on saying nothing else except, “I’m sorry about that.”

You sigh. “Satoru, I–” you start, keen on the way his body stiffens slightly when you say his name, “I really don’t have the capacity for much else tonight. I mean, the questions. And the lies. And walking on eggshells around your mom.”

“Well. I was sent up here to get you,” he says, “and I can’t exactly go downstairs empty handed.”

“Fine. Let’s just get this dinner over with as fast as possible.”

“Sure,” he easily agrees, “I’m with you on that one.”

You take a step forward to head towards the door, but then suck in a sharp gasp when you remember what was being held behind your back.

“Wait,” you say, “look away.”

“...huh?” he huffs, a puzzled look on his face.

“Just look away for a second.”

His eyebrows furrow before he lifts one in a questioning manner. But he acquiesces and turns on his heel to face away from you. “Have I ever told you how strange you are?”

“No,” you say while discretely crouching down, playing along in an attempt to distract him, “you haven’t.” You flinch a little from the sound of your hip popping, but he doesn’t seem to notice and so you bend your wrist in preparation of flinging the photo back to the abyss underneath his bed.

But you stop.

And you take one more glance at the photo.

And your stomach flips the same way it did the first time you saw it.

If you asked, would he tell you?

But the more pressing question is,

Why are you so scared to find out?

You shake your head vigorously to get rid of all your pestering intrusive thoughts. It was the stress, you played it off. A hyperactive mind leads to hyperactive ruminations. And besides, it’s just silly. Sure, there’s your gut feeling that suggests otherwise. But this girl in the photo could really just be an old friend or girlfriend that had no significant impact on the trajectory of his life. Why be the crazy one and lose sleep over this? You’ve lost sleep over plenty of other things in your life, but not stuff like this. It’s just not like you.

You fling the photo across underneath the bed and then stand up just in time for when Gojo turns around to look at you out of curiosity.

“Alright,” you say, dusting your hands off, “let’s go.”

You walk over to where he stands by the doorframe, a slight warmth to your cheeks when he doesn’t move out of your way like he usually does, but instead he leans towards you slightly as you brush past him, and your heart jumps a beat in your chest when you feel his hand gently fall to the small of your back, softly urging you forward ahead of him. A feather of a touch, yet intentional, almost naturally so, like a curious test of the boundary between you two that he’s been dying to understand a bit better. And the fact you don’t turn on your heel to face him with that same undeserved and petty rage that you always do, and instead slightly shudder at the feel of his touch, means that somewhere along the way, you’ve moved the line a little closer.

He’s hot on your trail as you walk down the stairs slowly and when you turn around the post at the bottom then make your way back to the dining room, you see his family staring at you with wide eyes.

His mother stands up. “y/n! Come sit back down, dear.”

You nod meekly, and Gojo pulls your chair out for you to take a seat before he resumes his seat next to you.

The food is slightly cold by the time you finally get to pick at it. It’s not very seasoned, either. Not enough salt for your taste. But somehow Mrs. Gojo having a phobia of sodium is a study of character that makes perfect sense in your head.

Eventually, the awkward silence is too much for you to bear, and you set your fork and knife down on your napkin with a slight bit more force than you probably should’ve.

Everyone looks at you.

You sigh. “I’m sorry for earlier,” you say, “I’m…uh, I’m just not really used to these sorts of dinners…I don’t have much family here in this town, and it’s always just sort of been my mom and me. And I—…I guess I’m just a little nervous.”

Wide eyes blink at you. Mr. Gojo shifts a little uncomfortably in his seat while Mrs. Gojo blinks her long lashes at you. Sana tilts her head, and you have no interest in seeing what Gojo’s expression looks like. You fear it’s the one you’d remember the most.

You were just being honest with how you felt. And it doesn’t take you long to realize something you probably should’ve realized earlier walking into a home like this where everything was perfect and on display with no evidence of the way a true family can crumble on the inside—a house like this does not value honesty. Your mother couldn’t afford you many luxuries in life, but you never felt like you couldn’t be honest in front of her.

You glimpse up at Sana, and there is some knowing expression on her face. It’s almost sympathetic. As if you two were on the same page about something right now. When you glance at Gojo, you see him staring down at his plate with his brow slightly furrowed.

“It…it’s quite alright, dear,” his mother says through a prim voice, and in an attempt to change the subject, she says, “I do hope you are enjoying the chicken.”

“Ah,” you exhale, “yes. I am.”

“So!” Mrs. Gojo chimes in again as she dabs her mouth to a linen napkin. “Tell me about what you do for fun.”

You blink at her. “Oh, umm…binge watch TV? Occasionally I’ll go for a walk.”

“Ahh interesting! What about reading? Do you enjoy reading?”

“Well, the last book I purchased was a picture book about North Korean missiles…so.”

She lets out a laugh. “And where do you see yourself in five years?”

You hear Gojo sigh beside you before he reluctantly sets down his silverware and then he turns to Mrs. Gojo. “Mom. C’mon. This isn’t a job interview. Just let her eat.”

There’s a slight tinge of pink to the tips of her ears from the interrogation interruption as she glances between the two of you. She looks over at Sana for help but finds nothing other than a gaze tipped down towards a plate full of picked-at food. Mr. Gojo folds a hand over her frail knuckles as if to silently communicate, but Mrs. Gojo retreats her hands to fold in her lap underneath the table.

Feeling somewhat bad for the two of them, you turn the face Gojo’s dad. “Um…Mr. Gojo, Satoru was telling me about how you were a big baseball fan and a big Ichiro fan…do you still keep up with the Mariners?”

The man’s eyes grow wide with a visible confusion and you swear you hear Gojo clear his throat beside you.

“Ah…that’s–” he starts before the sound of the doorbell ringing startles you.

Sana immediately stands up without a word of excusal or a glance in anyone’s direction and she heads straight for the door.

You all look around at one another before Mrs. Gojo says, “must be Jun.”

You were at least glad to find you would not be the only “in-law” at the table full of a tension-laced family dinner, especially given the fact that in most of the cases where you’ve met Jun, his penchant to talk overshadows any other energy.

“What’s up, y/n!” Jun shouts when he waltzes into the dining hall, a few steps ahead of Sana. He throws his jacket over the first surface he finds, body language matching that of someone twenty years younger than he actually is. You can’t tell if it’s overcompensation for something, or if he just genuinely believes he’s still in his twenties.

To your surprise, he opens his arms out for you to greet him with a hug, and you hesitate before standing up slightly to give him a well-meaning wrap of your arms around him, but it lacks any warmth of familiarity.

“Welcome to the fam!” he jovially exclaims before patting your arm. He then hugs Mr. Gojo, then Mrs. Gojo (paired with those cheek kisses that the French do in greeting), then daps up Gojo (to which you notice Gojo is less than enthusiastic about) before he finally kisses Sana on the cheek and then takes his seat at the other end of the table. Your eyes are keen on Sana now, watching her intently, but she remains staring at the food on her plate. You had a feeling there was someone in this room that didn’t want to be at this dinner even more than you did.

“How was traffic, Jun?” Mr. Gojo asks.

“Oh it was nothing. Took a shortcut. Backroute off of Lake City Way. Full of pot holes though.”

Sana turns to him and scowls. “While you were taking Juno to her sleepover?!”

He lifts an eyebrow at her. “Yeah? We were running late.”

“How many times do I have to tell you not to take that route to get into the city! Those pot holes are so dangerous.”

“Honey. Chill. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Just last week I saw news of three plot holes on the Mercer Street intersection opened up. Three people were injured, including a young boy.”

“Okay well if I also believed everything I saw on the news was going to personally happen to me too then we’d have never gotten this far in life.”

“Jun,” Sana deadpans.

“W-Why don’t I fix you a plate, Jun? You must be tired.” Mrs. Gojo chimes in.

Sana breathes in deep and exhales slowly before slumping down into her chair.

“Thanks,” Jun says, easing his brow as he sits back in his chair nonchalantly, before he turns to Gojo and starts to talk about mundane things like the stock market, the recent election, something about a new bowling record, and this one Thai restaurant he really wants to try on the other end of town, all within the span of time it takes Mrs. Gojo to set a plate down in front of him.

Mr. Gojo jumps in on conversation from time to time. Mrs. Gojo listens idly, sometimes placing a laugh where she feels appropriate. Jun gets particularly animated about this incident he ran into earlier last week when he was dropping Juno off at school, a story that you notice everyone at the table is for some reason entirely intrigued by, but you suppose it’s the most interesting topic of conversation you’ve all had tonight thus far. At certain critical points of the story, Sana jumps in with a that’s not what happened, Jun and you find yourself finally settling in somewhat to the evening.

Just as Jun’s story is ending, you glance up to Mrs. Gojo and find that she’s staring at you with a smile on her face. It makes you jump in your seat a little, luckily unnoticed by the rest of the table because of Jun’s engaging theatrical hand gestures as he attempts to keep his wife, his brother-in-law and his father-in-law engaged. You would’ve expected Mrs. Gojo to avert her gaze the second yours locked with hers, but she doesn’t. She just continues to look at you with a soft smile on her face and a slight tilt to her head, like she’s getting used to the sight of seeing you at this table.

Her gaze flits downwards slightly and you follow her line of gaze, tracing it to the ring that was adorning your left hand.

Your eyes widen slightly.

“Oh–” you stutter, the words already getting caught in your throat, “I–...I forgot to say, it’s an honor to wear your ring, Mrs. Gojo.” The table suddenly goes quiet, and you can’t tell if it’s because of you, or if it’s because there was no more story left to tell. “It’s beautiful.”

It truly felt like for every two steps you took forward, it was ten steps backwards. Because you watch the way that soft smile of hers entirely drops, her expression replaced with one of confusion, brows knitted together as she looks at you like you’ve just spoken in a language no one on Earth can speak.

She glances at Gojo, and you don’t have to look at him to tell that he’s stiff in his seat. You could’ve felt the tension from a mile away.

Mrs. Gojo looks at you again. “Oh honey, that–” She glances between you and Gojo. “That’s not my ring…”

Your eyes widen, cheeks already flush from whatever’s to come.

But suddenly, and to your surprise, Sana speaks up. “It was our mother’s ring.”

You look at her with confusion. And then you glance at Gojo. And then you glance back at Sana. And then at Mr. & Mrs. Gojo.

“But…” you trail off.

“Sumiko and Daichi are our aunt and uncle,” Sana says with a strained voice, “our real parents died in a house fire when we were younger.”

You blink at her in shock.

“He didn’t tell you?” Mr. Gojo asks.

“I–” You glance at Gojo and see that he’s poking his tongue to the inside of his cheek as he stares down at the glass of scotch he was twirling around in his hand.

“Of course he didn’t,” Sana interrupts, the bitterness in her voice matching the attitude she’s since displayed this entire evening. Her gaze is locked onto her brother’s face, and when his gaze flickers up to meet her eye contact, his expression is set with a tense jaw. “He never wants to mention them. He never wants to acknowledge their life. He never wants to honor them. He just wants to pretend like they never existed.”

“Sana,” he cuts her off, and a chill gets sent down your spine from the seriousness and rigidity in his voice. “Now’s not the time for this.”

“When is the fucking time?!” she spats at him, the simmering tension brewing over. Ah. Yes. The moment you had been expecting. After all, what family does not have its baggage? Sana abruptly stands up from the table, startling everyone with the clanking of silverware and ceramic from the motion. “When is the fucking time for you to admit that you never gave a shit about mom and dad dying? When is the fucking time for you to admit that we moved on to live with these people so fast? When is the fucking time for you to admit how wrong it was for you to force me to call the people here my mom and dad my whole life when they aren’t?” Her voice cracks near the end.

You glance at Mr. & Mrs. Gojo, who both look shocked, hurt, even embarrassed as they gaze down at their food. Your heart stalls in your chest for them.

When you glance back at Gojo, you see that his gaze is hardened even further now. “You’re being rude,” he says, in as steady of a voice as he can manage from the way his brow is creased with disappointment.

“Yeah, whatever,” Sana says as she wipes at the tears with her sleeves, and you notice that she looks young like this. Younger than the usual prim and proper self that she portrays. Too young to be a mom, too young to be a wife, too young to be an adult. Like someone propelled into a life that she never wanted. “That’s always what you say, isn’t it? No answers, you just claim that I’m being childish and rude.” Jun tries to reach out to hold her hand but she snatches it away from him. Under her breath she says, “I didn’t want to come here. I should’ve just stayed home.” And with a rough swipe of her sleeve across both of her cheeks, she suddenly storms off somewhere deep into the house. Jun immediately stands up to follow her, leaving the four of you here with stale, cold food.

The timer in the oven goes off, the sound heard in the distance like a lifeline, and Mrs. Gojo immediately stands up. “Ah, must be…the roasted potatoes. I’ll be right back,” she fusses, and you avert your gaze from her face so she doesn’t feel embarrassed over the streak of a tear you saw streaming down her face.

“Let me help you,” Mr. Gojo says in a small sheepish mumble before following his wife into the kitchen.

And then there were two.

You only have a moment to process the dramatic outburst and subsequent fall-through before you turn in your chair to face Gojo, your face narrowing in contempt. You see him running a hand through his hair, entirely ruffling out any sort of neatness he had combed it into earlier, and he undoes the top button of his shirt with an impatient thumb like he was letting go of whatever image he had been trying to keep up for tonight, because after what just happened, there was no use.

“So when were you going to tell me that they aren’t actually your real parents???” you hiss at him.

He sighs and runs a hand down his face. “They’ve raised us since Sana was just three years old. I didn’t think it mattered.”

“Okay well if I had known then I wouldn’t have mentioned the ring??? Now everyone’s left the table because of me.”

“It’s not because of you,” he quickly corrects you, “it’s because of years of unnecessary drama of which I’ve still got no fucking clue why it still gets brough up at every. family. dinner. If you didn’t bring it up, then they would’ve figured out a way to bring it up somehow anyways.”

You blink at him, a little taken aback by how dejected he was by this entire conversation.

“Are you going to go check on Sana?” you ask him.

“No,” he says without hesitation, “she’ll calm down soon enough.”

You press your lips into a thin line, contemplating his dismissal, before you let out a huff of disappointment and disapproval. You pull your napkin off of your lap, setting it up on the table, and slip out of your chair to head into the house in the direction you saw Sana storm off into, leaving Gojo to himself at the table.

As you walk down the hallway, all those pictures you saw hung up on the walls, those photos of illusion that painted this pretty picture of a nuclear family fall apart in the narrow space, those firm smiles and hesitant postures making much more sense to you now. They aren’t even his real parents. Baseball and wedding rings. Those details belonged to a life he never intended on sharing with you.

You walk past the kitchen, stopping briefly just beyond the entrance before backtracking and you find Sana standing near the sink with her arm across her chest as her other hand wipes at her cheeks. The soft sound of a sniffle echoes in the room and you’re surprised to see that Jun left her alone.

Tentatively, you shuffle your feet across the wooden floor. She seems to make note of you in her periphery but refuses to glance up.

“Hey…” you start when you finally make it to the space in front of her, your hip leaning against the edge of the sink counter in parallel with hers as you face her.

“I—” she starts, shuffling her palms across her cheeks again. “I am so severely embarrassed.”

Your eyes widen slightly at the honesty. “Don’t be. It’s just family.”

“No but that’s the point,” she says through a crack in her voice, “I’m thirty-one, I’m married, I’m a mom, but they’ll always just see me as some immature little brat because I always behave like this.”

You don’t know what to say. You suppose if you were a therapist, or a priest, or a mentor, or a mom yourself, or any other person with an emotional IQ higher than yourself, you would know the right thing to say to her right now. But you don’t. So silence is all that you can offer her, and you hope that it’s enough.

It seems to work in it’s own magical way, as she slowly opens herself up to you within the next passing sixty seconds. A fleeting glance up to your face. The halt of pointless fidgeting with the fabric of her sleeve. The way she stands up straighter, her hip no longer leaning against the kitchen counter, and you find that you mirror the same movement.

She clears her throat, rubbing her nose with the knuckle of her index finger, her eyes no longer glistening with tears but the corners of them look puffy.

You glance down at your feet for a moment before inhaling deep and making eye contact with her. “Hey, listen…” you say, “I’m—…I’m really sorry…about earlier today. For overstepping about the bullying. Juno’s your daughter, and I really shouldn’t have given her advice before at least running it by you beforehand. Especially for something so sensitive.”

The delicate muscles of her brow lift in surprise at your words, lids fluttering slowly as she processes your words, and the wave of melancholy is contagious as it washes through you as well.

“I’m sorry too,” she says, “for how angry I got with you. It’s just—” she hesitates, and you see that semblance of her that you’re more familiar with. Strict, stern, rough around the edges but for a noble reason. “Y’know, with kids…we tend to get overprotective over them.” Her gaze drops to somewhere beneath yourselves as if she suddenly lost confidence in her train of thought. “I’m just trying to do the right thing for her.”

A silence settles between the two of you before you realize you ought to respond to her.

“I get it,” you finally say. “I mean—…I don’t. Because I’m not a mom. But…I’m sure that when I am one some day, I’d understand.”

She finally offers you a smile in return to your words, polite but genuine nonetheless. And a soft remnant sniffle makes her ruffle her nose.

Her expression softens, and she stares straight ahead to your collarbone rather than your eyes. “She really likes you, you know?” Sana glances up at you now. “Hasn’t stopped talking about your ‘blubbery’ pancakes since last week.”

“Aww.”

There’s a sad glint in her eyes when she turns her torso away from you slightly in resignation before some hint of optimism flashes by in her face and she turns to you again.

“Do you…think you could give me the recipe?”

You want to ask her if everything is okay. But instead, you say, “sure.”

The sound of footsteps approaching is heard near the kitchen entrance and the two of you glance in that direction to see Jun walking in. He offers you a fleeting glance before taking his place beside Sana, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling him towards her before placing a kiss on her temple and saying, “hey honey.”

You watch as she averts her gaze down to the tips of her toes.

“Feeling better?” he asks her but there’s this lack of warmth you cannot quite discern.

“Yes,” she responds, scratching at her cheek as a discreet way of getting rid of the last remaining wetness that had streamed down her face earlier.

He rubs her arm soothingly and then looks at you with a smile pressed into a firm line. “Doing alright?”

You blink at him. “Wh—…yes.”

“Say, y/n, how’s your mom doing by the way?” he asks.

“She’s…better. She’s in hospice now.”

“Palliative?”

“Well—” you say, “I guess. It’s just temporary.”

He shuffles inside the pocket of his coat and takes out something. A small card with finely printed black ink on it. He hands it to you.

“I can’t imagine how expensive that all must be,” he says, and you glance down at the card.

Carevest Capital est. 2016

Invest in a healthier you!

You glance up at Jun. Sana’s gaze has now shifted to the inside of the sink.

“I started this business,” he says, “where we’re revolutionizing the way healthcare costs are managed. In our platform, we basically invest our clients’ money into the stock market, leveraging our high-reward algorithm to maximize returns. But here’s the unique part: we partner with leading healthcare CEOs who match a portion of the profits as an incentive for stock purchases. Together, these funds go directly toward paying off hospital bills and easing related financial burdens.”

Your eyes widen at his words. The speech was practiced, one you can only assume he has pitched to many potential clientele. But there’s a hint of personable grace to it as well.

“I’m telling you, y/n, we’ve had clients who have overcome six figures of medical debt in just six months,” he says, “and you’ll only need a couple thousand dollars to start yourself up.”

You purse your lips together, your finger pinching the corner of the card. “That’s amazing, Jun.”

He smiles at you, releasing Sana’s waist. “Sorry if this kinda came out of nowhere, but I heard through the grapevine that things have been rough.”

Oh, like how your card has declined publicly at the grocery store multiple times, or how you haven’t been able to afford your insurance deductible to get that chipped off part of your bumper fixed, or the fact you haven’t paid your landscapers in over three months so your lawn now looks like a swamp? It was a small town. And people’s finances were always a topic of interest for most.

“I just wanted to offer any help I can,” Jun says.

“Thanks,” you say, returning his smile, “I’ll, um, I’ll look into it.” You push the card into your pocket.

He offers you that same firm smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes before he pulls Sana to him again, placing another kiss along her hairline and the PDA seems like overcompensation on some front from the way Sana is entirely frigid to his touch.

Maybe it was a woman’s intuition,

But you felt like something was wrong.

“Kids,” you hear Mr. Gojo’s crackly voice say as he stands leaning against the doorframe near the kitchen entrance, “let’s finish dinner?”

The three of you exchange glances before nodding and heading back towards the hall.

Your peach cobbler was apparently very good, the only thing that seemed to cut through the tension of the night. But that was the thing with family, right? You can yell and scream and cry and lecture and mope and roll your eyes at each other all you want but at the end of the day, they’re still family. Sana still seems slightly dejected though, and you can see Gojo in the corner of your eye at the table glancing up at her every other minute or so. His own way of making sure she’s doing okay, you think to yourself. Sana refuses to meet anyone’s line of sight except yours, however, which makes you feel some slight burdensome responsibility of sisterhood you had never signed up for. Nonetheless, you try to offer her a soothing smile whenever she looks up at you, and it seems to put her at ease.

The news of Sana and Jun moving seemed slightly anticlimactic, as Mrs. Gojo mentioned that they had already had an inkling that Jun and Sana would be moving closer to the city. You briefly wonder if Mrs. Gojo knew all along, but decided to make the announcement into some big affair just so that she could see her niece and nephew over a meal.

You make no more embarrassing comments. Conversation dulls into anything and everything unpersonal to you all, such as the news and weather and gossip of other people. And somewhere along the night, you relax your knee, the ball of it pressing into Gojo’s thigh underneath the table. It was wordless, innocent contact that occurs when two people become more comfortable with one another. Only excusable due to the slight buzz you felt in your veins from the wine. He’s kissed you before, yet somehow the press of his thigh against yours feels even more searing. There’s a point along the night where you tip your head to the right slightly, daringly close to resting your head on his shoulder due to the tipsy dizziness weighing in your head, and it would certainly put on a convincing show of newlywed affection for his aunt and uncle, but you manage to catch yourself. And subsequently refuse any more glasses of wine.

“Thanks for having me,” you say to Mrs. Gojo at the front entrance before she pulls you in for a hug.

“Oh, anytime dear,” she says as she gently pats your back, “please.”

When she pulls away from the hug, she holds you by your shoulders before her eyes glance down towards your left hand and the shimmering diamond that sat on the ring finger. She holds your hand in hers and lifts it to examine the twinkle underneath the lights of the chandelier.

“It really is a pretty ring,” she says, her eyes glossing over. “It looked beautiful on my sister, and it looks beautiful on you too.”

Your breath hitches slightly in your throat. “Thank you, Mrs. Gojo.”

“Please,” she says in response to the title, “Sumiko is fine.” But in less of a way in which she’s relaxing formalities, but rather in a way that acknowledges she never had the sovereignty to be called that in the first place.

You hear masculine voices approaching down the hallway as the three men make their way towards the front entrance as well. Gojo glances at you in the midst of their conversation, and he leaves the two of them to make his way over to you.

“Alright,” Gojo says, turning to face the rest of them as he stands beside you. “We’ll head out now.”

Sumiko pulls him in for a hug, then his uncle, and then obnoxiously by Jun as well. Sana fidgets with her fingers as she remains at the end of the line, and you catch a glimpse of surprise on her face when Gojo pulls her in for a hug too. You see him whisper something to her, and it’s only after she hears what he said that she returns the hug and wraps her arms around him as well.

You’re jolted out of your people-watching trance when Gojo walks up to you and takes your hand in his, shoving his other in his pocket. You glance down at the sight, the way his large hand engulfs your own. It’s warm in a firm hold, delicately squeezing your hand once right before you feel the cold air behind you when his uncle opens the door.

Well, you survived. That’s what you think to yourself as you sit in the passenger seat of Gojo’s car, watching the city lights twinkle as you two drive by. You don’t know what you were expecting. Drama? Ease? Tension? For a piece of the sky to fall and land on the roof? There was a part of you that wanted to impress. You want to be one of those daughter-in-laws that the in-laws just adore. You know, where they’re like, god am I so happy that she’s a part of the family now! The one that the mother-in-law is just so ecstatic to know that her son managed to hold down such a catch.

But any expectations and pressure dissolve with the reminder that this is all fake. Fake, fake, fake. And you’d do really well to remind yourself of that reality whenever you spent time with Gojo. Whenever you find yourself acclimating into his life for even a moment, just remember that it’s fake. Can you have a little fun here and there? Sure. Will you probably find yourself in even stranger situations going forward? Yes, because, well, that’s how life is. But it’s just fake. No obligations, no responsibility, nothing. Nada. Nothing, nothing, nothing.

But as you walk through the front door, staring straight ahead into the dark house at Gojo’s back as he sets down the keys by the foyer table, and even as you follow him further into the house towards the kitchen, that feeling inside you surges.

A woman's intuition.

That something between Jun and Sana was wrong.

Not just routine marital issues,

Or the occasional argument,

Something worse. Something dangerous.

And it’s not something you would ever expect a man to pick up on, even Gojo.

Because it was from the way Sana’s eyes silently communicated with you from across the table,

Something so subtle, a silent plea across a shared dimension,

That she needed help.

“Hey…” you speak up softly, standing in front of the fridge.

Gojo glances over his shoulder at you from the other side of the kitchen island, barely illuminated by the moonlight through the windows. He turns to face you. “What’s up?”

You blink at him.

“Um, I really don’t want to overstep again, but—”

There’s a sobering thought that flashes through your mind when you recall that you have never seen yourself as the hero in anyone’s story.

Simply because you could never, ever, ever trust yourself.

You could never trust your feelings or your decisions.

Because you cosigned on hundreds of thousands of dollars of medical loans. Because you stuck around for five years with a man that didn’t love you anymore. Because you still feel naive enough to believe that your best friend who betrayed you still misses you somehow. Because you still foolishly believe your mother will be around to hold her grandchildren someday.

Because you thought that your best bet in order to pull yourself out of hell was to fake marry a man,

And then act as if it’s all real when his aunt looks you in the eye with bittersweet tears as you now wear her bereaved sister’s ring in honor, entirely unaware it was actually being worn in vain.

How could you ever trust your judgement when you behave this way?

Never the hero. If anything, the villain.

“What is it?” Gojo repeats when he sees that you’ve been silent for too long. He tilts his head at you, his hair falling over his forehead haphazardly and he runs a hand through it to try to get it out of his face. Even in the dim light, his eyes shine a breathtaking blue.

You swallow hard.

“Um,” you say, and then glance down at the wetness you find at your heel. “The, um, the fridge is leaking again.”

He blinks at you for a solid ten seconds, and then the tension in his shoulders drops when he sulks and closes his eyes with exhaustion and defeat.

“Fuck. Okay.”

[end of chapter 5]

a/n. looool i really keep thinking i can post shorter chapters and them bam they be 10k+ words. but i swearrr it's just cuz i be yapping :(( anywho hope you enjoyed this chapter!! a lot of characters were kinda introduced and mm given a bit more depth in this chapter. sorry there wasn't as much romance or anything in this one though haha there will be more in the next one :0 big big thank you to my lovely ihm beta readers ayelin, jules, leni & mirl for helping me out w this chapter!! i believe i may have mentioned this before but i STRUGGLLEEEE with multi-character scenes (i'm much more comfy writing scenes that just have back n forth between two characters) so this chapter was challenginggg esp the whole dinner sequences and there were also a lot of complicated feelings at play, descriptions, stuff i wasn't sure if it was coming off the right way (and tbh am still not sure haha) but they really helped me work my thoughts out n gave wonderful suggestions too so tysm :'') much loveee!! hope to see you all in the next one <3 - ellie

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lupinqs · 6 months ago

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FOCUS ━━ paige bueckers x reader

☆ ━ summary: practice gets a little steamy…

☆ ━ word count: 3.1K

☆ ━ warnings: smut (p eating, fingering, kinda public sex but ig not really)

☆ ━ links: my masterlist

☆ ━ author’s note: okay so this is SUCHHH a scrap, i have not proofread it either, it’s just not great, i’m not very happy with it but i wanted to post something so here it is i hope you all like it more than i do LOL

YOU’RE in Maryland, visiting Paige’s family. You and her got here a little under a week ago following the first round of Geno’s summer sessions. It’s been a lazy few days so far, full of long mornings spent in bed, video games on the couch with Drew, and afternoons tanning in the summer sun. It’s been nice; a solid break that the both of you need before what Paige has dubbed her “world tour” of the summer. You’re tagging along for parts of it—though not all of it—and it’s safe to say you’re not excited for the amount of plane rides and jet lag you’re about to face.

However, you and Paige both decided that a week of sitting on your asses might do more harm than good, so you’ve gathered yourselves at the local high school gym, getting some hoops in.

A few buddies of Paige’s, as well as Drew, tagged along in the beginning, but as the hours grew longer, they began to fizzle out. Drew is the last to leave, heading to his actual basketball practice with his own team.

And then it’s just you and Paige.

The two of you could leave now; you’ve certainly been here practicing long enough. However, you can see the itch of a smirk in Paige’s face and you know what she’s going to say before the words even leave her mouth.

“1v1?” she asks, a playful challenge in her eyes.

You smirk, taking the challenge as you always seem to do. “Not too scared you’ll lose again?”

Paige rolls her eyes at the reminder of the two of you’s last one-on-one game. She waves a hand, saying dejectedly, “You cheated.”

“Nope, you’re just a sore loser.”

Paige just shakes her head, grinning. “I’m not a sore loser because I didn’t lose.”

You decide that you’re not entertaining this. You’re well aware that she will continue bickering with you about it until you give in, admitting that she’s right and you’re not. It’s always this way; she will literally go on for hours if you let her. But, nonetheless, you both know the truth—which is, you definitely beat her in that game.

And, when you begin the game, the way the first few minutes are going makes you believe you may win this one, too. You’re up a good few points—Paige has been slacking on defense and you’ve been picking up the pace on offense. When you get another bucket on her, you grin widely, calling to your girlfriend, “Gee, you a little rusty, P Boogers?” You add the nickname KK’s created, knowing how much it annoys her.

However, Paige doesn’t bother responding, instead abruptly ripping her white long-sleeve over her head and tossing it across the gym on the other side of the court. Your grin falters at that, eyes soaking up Paige’s body. Jesus. Already, you can feel your heart start to race (and it’s not from the basketball game). Paige is wearing a Nike black sports bra, and, with her shirt now shed, the silver chains are on full display along her chest. Her basketball shorts are also rolled down, so that her whole torso is practically exposed, abs included. You feel your mouth salivate at the sight of Paige’s skin glistens with sweat, the way her abs flex, the way her arms look (you seem to grow fonder and fonder of them every day, especially since Paige has been in the weight room more often).

A small smirk paints Paige’s face as she takes in your surprised expression. She just raises her eyebrows, saying with a shit-eating grin, “What? It’s hot in here.”

You roll your eyes at Paige’s obviousness, opting to resume the game rather than respond to her. She’s back on offense, you on defense. You defend as you always would, hands raised, feet tracking your opponent’s, eyes flitting between the ball in Paige’s hand and Paige’s face. However, as your eyes trail between the two, they can’t help but track Paige’s abs, the sweat shining on her porcelain skin, the way her chains go with her every movement. You swallow thickly, doing your absolute best to concentrate on the game instead of your extremely sexy girlfriend.

“Focus, sweetheart,” Paige teases, dribbling the ball slowly. The nickname makes your heart stutter. “You’re gonna lose if you keep staring.”

And then she powers forward, scoring a layup with no hesitation. She grins and cocks her head at your bad defense, tsking as she asks, “Where’d that focus of yours go, hmm?”

Your cheeks flush at her words, and you grab the basketball, doing your best to lock in. “Nowhere, I am focused,” you argue, trying to get past the blonde’s defense.

“Oh, sure,” Paige murmurs in your ear, now with her front pressed flush against your back as you dribble, attempting to find a hole. She catches the way your face turns, looking to get through, but instead your eyes once again catch the chains that have begun to stick to her skin due to the sweat. Her smirk only grows, and she adds slowly, mockingly, “You are focused. Just… not on the game, yeah?”

“Shut up,” you grunt against her, trying to get a shot in. She doesn’t let you, blocking it. You groan a little as her hands snake around the ball, effectively stealing it from you.

“I will once you tell me what you’re so focused on that has you distracted from the game. You were just doing so well, beating me for once,” she says, egging you on.

You scoff, snapping, “You know damn well what I’m focused on.”

“I wanna hear you say it, baby,” she taunts, blue eyes squinting with mischief.

You hold her gaze for a long second. You could give her what she wants, say that the only thing you’re really able to focus on right now is just how fucking sexy she looks and how much you’d love to rip her clothes off right here, right now and fuck her. But, of course, you don’t. You’re just as stubborn as Paige is, so you simply utter, “No.”

A look of annoyance—that satisfies you very much—flits across her face. She shrugs, saying, “Fine then.”

You continue the game, but things seem to only be looking worse for you. No matter how much you try to fight it, try to focus on the basketball and the basketball only, it’s like your eyes have a mind of their own, and they seem to stay locked on Paige’s body. And, of course, Paige takes every opportunity she can to flaunt it, knowing full well the effect it has on you. Her smirk never fades, especially as she gets closer and closer to winning.

However, it seems like Paige has finally had enough with the teasing. She drives to the basket, right past you (you let her; you’re done with this game), making a final layup. She then turns to you, catching sight of the way you stand there watching her, having not bothered to defend that final play. “Game over,” Paige announces. You can’t help but notice how her voice is lower, more huskier than usual. It means you’re probably going to get what you want.

You step closer, eyes darkening with pure want. You’ve given up pretending that you don’t. “You’re such a tease, Bueckers.”

Paige raises an eyebrow, her smirk turning into a full-blown grin. “Oh, yeah?” She steps closer, her body almost brushing against yours. “Maybe you just needa learn to focus better.”

The air between you is charged, and before you can even respond, Paige has you pushed against the wall of the gym, her chest pressed against yours, her face so close her nose nearly touches your own. The sound of the both of your breathing fills the space, heavy and expectant.

Paige’s eyes lock onto yours, and—without an ounce of hesitation—she leans in, her lips capturing yours in a heated kiss. It’s almost instinctual at this point, the way your respond to it. Your hands find their way to Paige’s back, pulling her closer as the blonde’s tongue traces your lips slowly, seeking entry. You willingly part them, allowing Paige to explore your mouth passionately. She’s going fast, and if you weren’t so used to it, it might’ve been hard for you to keep up. Nevertheless, you do, albeit with a couple teeth clashes.

Paige’s hands slide from their spot on your hips up to cup your face, angling your head to deepen the kiss. Your own fingers trail from her back, tracing her sweaty skin, until they thread through Paige’s hair, effectively ruining the once slicked back bun (not that either of you care much).

Paige breaks away from your mouth, trailing a series of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jawline. You can’t help but tilt your head back, granting the blonde better access to your neck. You can hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears and the shallow pants escaping your mouth as Paige’s lips find the sensitive spot just below your ear.

And then you feel her teeth biting. It’s not enough to truly hurt, but it’s enough to elicit a whimper from you—a sound that Paige loves. She does it again, gets the same reaction, and then soothes the area with a flick of her tongue. Paige’s kisses trail down the expanse of your neck, surely leaving marks that you know you’ll have to cover up tomorrow. But you don’t have it in yourself to care much about that because each press of Paige’s lips, each gentle scrape of her teeth, each soothing lap of her tongue, sends shivers down your spine and heat through your core.

Your hands tighten in Paige’s hair as she reaches the hollow of your throat, sucking hard. You feel your hips involuntarily arch toward Paige, seeking more contact. The blonde smirks against your neck, pleased with your reaction. She moves lower, kissing along the line of your collarbone, hands sliding under your tank top to caress the soft skin of your stomach.

You feel your breath hitch as Paige grows more insistent, tongue darting out to taste the salty tang of sweat that permeates your skin. Her hands travel upward beneath your shirt, fingers brushing the underside of your breasts. Your eyes flutter open at that, remembering where you are.

“Paige, we really shouldn’t,” you say, but your voice shakes and your hands find their way to the blonde’s abs, tracing the defines muscles and betraying your words. “Anyone could walk in,” you add, attempting to keep yourself composed.

Paige’s lips capture yours in a fierce kiss, silencing your protests. Her hands are cupping your breasts through your sports bra now, and she manages to reassure you between kisses, “No one’s gonna walk in.”

And, just like that, your resolve seems to crumble. That always happens with Paige—it’s so easy with her, and, though, sometimes it does frustrate you, you usually don’t regret it. “Fuck, P,” you gasp, fingers digging into your girlfriend’s skin.

She grins against your lips, and her right hand slowly but surely trails its way from your chest to the waistband of your shorts. It slips beneath them and you feel yourself growing hotter—and wetter—with each passing second.

Paige’s fingers slowly begin to tease your clit, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles that make your knees go weak. It’s in stark contrast to her kisses, so fast-paced you can hardly breathe. Eventually, you manage to break the kiss, gasping raggedly, voice a mix of desperation and need, “Quit teasing.”

Paige’s smirk only seems to widen, and her pupils—which are blown so much that her blue eyes look nearly black—are full of lust. “Am I teasing?” she asks, fingers sliding through your slick folds.

You feel your heartbeat stutter and your core pulsing with utter need. “You know you are,” you mutter, glaring. She presses her thumb harder against your clit, though it’s not in the way you need it (and she knows it). “Quit it.”

“As you wish,” she murmurs, lips ghosting along your earlobe. Without hesitation, she dips two fingers into you, the sudden intrusion causing you to gasp loudly, arching against Paige’s touch.

“Shit,” you breathe out, hands gripping Paige’s sides for support. Your head leans back against the gym wall, and Paige resumes the kissing on your neck, marking it up even more. Her fingers continue inside you with a steady rhythm, each thrust drawing out sharp gasps from your lips.

“So wet for me, baby,” Paige says against your skin, biting your shoulder lightly as she curls her fingers. You outright moan at that, and she asks, “How long you been dripping like this, waitin’ for me?”

“All day,” you admit between whimpers, practically shaking against Paige. Her fingers go deeper, fucking up into you harder. “Paige, please,” you beg, eyes squeezing shut.

Paige’s lips curve into a knowing smile. “Please what, baby?” she teases, fingers hitting that spot inside you that makes your legs feel like jelly.

“Fuck, your mouth,” you manage to gasp out between moans, body heating up with each passing second. “Please, P, I want your mouth.”

You watch as Paige’s eyes darken with hunger at your words, and you feel your heartbeat begin to quicken. “Whatever you want,” the blonde murmurs, voice filled with promise. She pulls her fingers out of you, savoring the way you practically whimper at the loss. Then, with deliberate slowness, she sinks to her knees before you, her hands sliding your shorts down with her.

Paige glances up at you, blue eyes full of a mischief and a smirk that you’ve had a habit of kissing off her face. You can’t help but think about just how fucking good Paige looks like this, cheeks rosy, lips kiss-swollen, sweat shining along every expanse of skin that’s exposed—which is a lot. Your eyes wander from her face to her chest and shoulders to her abs and back. And when your eyes meet hers again, the look in them… Jesus fuck. The sight is genuinely almost enough to make you come right then and there.

And you know that Paige knows the effect she has on you. You can tell in the way her smirk sits on her face, the way her eyebrows raise slightly, the way she leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your inner thigh—so close yet so far from where you really need her.

But she doesn’t tease for long, because when she finally reaches your core, she wastes no time, her tongue flicking out to taste you.

She starts with long, slow licks, gradually building the tension in you. Each stroke of her tongue makes you feel like you’re on Cloud 9 and about to have a stroke all at once. Your fingers tighten in her hair, hips arching toward Paige’s mouth, seeking more contact.

Paige understands—truthfully, she’s so familiar with your body at this point, that you can’t remember the last time she didn’t understand what you wanted—and she dips her tongue into your entrance. Her fingers trail from their grip on your hip to your clit, rubbing in firm, quickening circles. The dual sensation makes you cry out, your nails digging into the skin of your palm, your other hand tightening in Paige’s hair, pulling slightly. She lets out a satisfied hum against you at that, and the vibrations send a new wave of pleasure through you.

Paige knows exactly what you like, and she certainly uses that to her advantage. She curls her tongue inside you, seeking out that one spot that makes you see stars. The noises coming from your mouth begin to grow louder, your hips grinding against Paige’s face, still desperate for more.

“Fuck, Paige— God,” you moan, voice breaking. “I need… I need more.”

Surprisingly, Paige doesn’t make a comment about how needy you are, instead opting to do as you say. She pulls her tongue out, replacing it with two fingers, thrusting them deep inside your cunt. At the same time, she focuses her mouth back on your clit, sucking and licking so fervently you fear she might make you faint from her head game.

Paige can feel your legs trembling, the strain of standing becoming too much. Without breaking her rhythm, she throws one of your legs over her shoulder, giving herself more leverage, her tongue and fingers continuing their relentlessness. You can feel the pressure building within you, threatening to snap.

“God, you taste s’good,” Paige murmurs against your wet pussy. You catch the way your arousal is coating her chin and the sight of it—along with a deeper curl of her fingers—makes you moan loudly. “So sweet. ’Could do this all fuckin’ day, if you let me. ’Would make you come a million times over, baby.”

You cry out again, both at her words and the pace of her fingers curling and thrusting, the wetness of her mouth on you. Your body tenses, every muscle coiled tight as you hover on the brink of release. Paige senses how close you are and doubles down, adding a third finger and sucking hard on your clit.

That’s all it takes. Your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, your entire body shuddering with the force of it. You moan out Paige’s name, your fingers gripping her hair so tightly that it has to hurt (though Paige doesn’t mind). She helps you ride out your high, her fingers and tongue working together to prolong your pleasure.

Finally, when your body goes limp and your breathing begins to slow, Paige pulls back, planting soft, soothing kisses along your inner thighs. She looks up at you, her lips glistening with your arousal, a satisfied grin on her face.

“So fuckin’ perfect,” Paige says, eyes trailing all along your body.

You can only nod, still too breathless to form a coherent response. Your heart swells as Paige stands, pulling you in for a kiss. Her tongue slips in your mouth, letting you taste yourself. You moan against her lips, your hands wrapping around her neck, pulling her closer. You stay like that for a moment—you savoring Paige, Paige savoring you—before finally breaking apart, both of you breathless and smiling.

“I love you,” Paige murmurs, planting a short peck on your lips. Then your nose. Then your forehead. “We should probably put your clothes back on, though, before someone does walk in on us.”

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers x reader #uconn #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #wcbb #wbb x reader #paige bueckers smut #smut #wlw

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sturnmeovr · 3 months ago

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Pierced II - Chris Sturniolo

Part One Based off this request Pairings - bfb!Chris x fem!Reader Warnings - MDNI, smut, masturbation, oral fem receiving, oral male receiving, unprotected sex, p in v, titty play, pet names (baby), praise kink, strong language. (comment if I missed any!) Summary - After Matt catches you and Chris in the hallway, Chris dismisses him, and takes you to his room, easily giving you the best fuck of your life. W/c - 2896?? A/n - With Pierced being one of my top liked post, I had some requests for a part two! This is my first smut and I'm not too experienced writing smut sooo 🫣 Posting this before I clock in lol. I haven't proofread this yet so please forgive me if there's typos/mistakes!! Tags - @lvrsturniolo @thepubeburgler @unknvhx @m11rx @ribread03 @emely9274 (let me know if anyone else wants on my tag list!) Masterlist Current series - City of Love

Chris keeps you under his trance as Matt shuts his bedroom door. The anticipation of his next words has your heart in your stomach. Chris always had a flirty personality but something was different about tonight. The look he had in his eyes told you he was standing on business, “my room?” His voice breaks you of your train of never-ending thoughts.

You nod eagerly, not letting your mouth form the words. A smirk pulls at Chris lips and he reaches out, looping his finger around the drawstring of pajama pants once again. You follow close behind as he leads you down the hall and to his bedroom. You watch as Chris kicks the door open with his foot, pulling the string tighter and making your bottoms bunch up at your waist. Your heart thumps as you enter his room, closing the door behind you. Chris leads you to his bed, sitting down, and guiding you between his legs. He looks up at you, a seductive smirk stretched across his lips, “I can still see, right?”

Now that he has you up close and personal, he wanted to take advantage of it. Chris never hooked up with a girl with pierced nipples and seeing that photo earlier in the night not only sparked his curiosity, it revealed some sort of new found kink for him. All he knew was he wanted to pay as much attention to your breasts as you’d let him.

You fight with your own brain that’s telling you not to do anything stupid but when Chris places his hands on your hips, running them down your thighs like he’s admiring the curves he always knew you had, all those logical thoughts go out the window. “Mhm,” you muffle out, locking your eyes on his. His eyes are filled with nothing but lust and passion as he tightens his grips around your thighs, and pulls you closer to him. You take the hint, straddling him before he scoots back on the bed to make the position more comfortable. His hands travel from your waist and up to your neck, pulling you down so he can press his lips to your. Your lips move against his like they’re in sync with each other. His kiss is a lot more gentle and patient than you expected. So many thoughts wander through your mind while Chris runs his hands up your shirt, groping your breasts through your bralette. Let's be honest, you weren’t expecting a hookup tonight, so you weren’t prepared in any way. You had hello kitty pajama pants on with a white tank top, a white lacy bralette and a pair of cute strawberry printed boyshorts underneath. The slight stubble down below being the main give away, tonight took you by surprise. Your outfit was not screaming ‘fuck me’ but your body definitely was.

Deciding against your logical thoughts, you slip your shirt over your head. Within seconds, Chris is attacking your chest and stomach with wet sloppy kisses, the warmth of his lips against your skin makes you shiver. “That picture was so sexy,” he muffles, dragging his lips against your skin. “You don’t know how long I've been wanting to do this,” Chris looks up, the lust never leaving his eyes. His hands find their way underneath your bralette and he massages you gently. His fingers glide over your nipples lightly, hitting the cold metal each time. A small whimper rolls off your tongue, making him look up at you, “take this off for me.”

You tug at each side of your bralette, sliding it over your head and letting it his the mattress next you, “fuck y/n.” Chris couldn't help himself, both of his hands immediately cup your breasts. “So fucking pretty,” he compliments before snaking an arm around your waist and attaching his mouth to your left breast. Your mouth forms an O-shape at the sudden contact, and you run your hand through his hair as flicks his tongue against your pierced nipple. His unoccupied hand travels up to your right breast, trailing lightly around your areola before pinching at your sensitive nub a little too hard. You suck in a sharp, Chris notices very quickly, parting himself with a barely noticeable popping noise when he pulls away, “too much?”

“N-no it’s fine,” you tell him. It’s almost like you feared he’d stop, and that was the last thing you wanted. In the back of your mind, you knew he wasn’t going to, and you knew you’d be getting fucked sensless by him tonight at the rate it was going. Pushing your sane thoughts to the back of your head, “here. Lay down,” his voice raspier than before. You do exactly as you're told, scooting off his lap and onto his bed, laying back on the pillow as Chris hovers over you. Engulfing you in a heated kiss once again, he lets his hands wander all over your body, paying attention to the only naked part of you the most. Needing more of him, you roll your body against his as he slips his tongue in your mouth, letting it dance with yours. Before it gets too heated he pulls away, pressing his forehead against yours, “you wanna stop?”

His question taking you off guard, “what, no, why?” you ask, trying to catch your breath he sucked out of you. “I don’t want to,” you blurt out in a whiny tone. You were desperate for him at this point, and he’s barely even done anything. Chris raises his eyebrows at you, awe etched across his face, “no?” You shake your head almost immediately, “not now,” pushing your hips against his. His tongue darts across his lips, and his eyes trail down to your breasts, his hand following quickly after, “you sure, Y/n?” His bright blue orbs locking you in for the millionth time tonight, his gaze was hypnotic, making it impossible to say no to, not that you planned on it. You let out an impatient huff, “Chrisss,” stretching his name out, making Chris smirk. Little did you know, your pleas only turned him on more. He wanted to hear you whine his name while his cock was buried deep inside on you, hitting spots you didn’t even know were there.

“Then take these off,” he commands, tugging at your hello kitty pajama pants. You lift your hips up, letting him slide your pants down your legs. You watch as he tosses them over his shoulder, not caring where they land. Chris runs a finger over your clothed heat, making you squirm under his touch. You had been in his room less than ten minutes and he already had a pool of wetness collecting in your panties. It was nothing you had experienced before. His touch was too gentle for you - too caring.

You watch as Chris takes the outside of his index finger, dragging it along your slit, applying just enough pressure to make a moan slip from your lips. “Quiet baby,” he looks up at you, “don’t want to wake anyone, do we?”

The way Chris is rubbing you has your head spinning circles. You barely process what he’s saying before you reply, “mmm- no,” you manage to get out. “Good, stay real quiet for me, mmkay?” he tells you before hooking his fingers in the sides of your panties and pulling them down quickly, and discarding them much like your pajama pants. Redness finds its way to your cheeks, remembering you hadn’t shaved the last couple days. Normally, you’d come prepared and look pretty but you weren’t expecting a random hookup with your best friend's brother.

The passion in Chris’ eyes only intensifies when he sees you exposed and under his control. Crouching down until he’s eye level with your heat, placing a light kiss on your bundle of nerves, earning another whimper from you. He didn’t care about the little hair poking and prodding at his lips, he wanted as much of you as you’d give him. His eyes lock themselves on yours, keeping you in a trance as he uses his tongue to his, and your, advantage. Your mouth forms the same O-shape as earlier, and you prop yourself up on your elbows to get a better view of the beautiful man lapping at your folds. A smile pulls at his lips but quickly disappears when he wraps his hand around your thigh, pulling you closer, so he can can as much of you as possible. His mouth never leaves your heat as he pulls you closer, making his teeth rub against your clit. Unexpectedly, the impact felt really fucking good. “Fuck Chris,” you moan out before throwing your head back.

“M’sorry” his voice comes out muffled since his mouth is still pressed against you. His immediate thought was that he was too rough. “Please keep going,” you tell him, tugging a hand through his hair once again. Chris grants your wish, flicking his tongue against your faster than before. You bury your bottom lip between your teeth as an attempt to bite back your moans, but once Chris pushes his middle finger inside you, you can’t hold back anymore. “Chrisss,” you stretch out. Your back arches off of the bed at the feeling of something finally penetrating you. Your last senseless hookup being weeks ago, you were dying to get yours off. Not that you couldn’t do it yourself, it wasn’t the same as having a male presence. Chris easily before your favorite fuck after tonight. Before you can adjust to his middle finger, he adds his ring finger too. You buck your hips at him as your way of telling him you were enjoying it. You watch Chris as he gently pushes his fingers in and out of you, flicking his tongue against your clit. The warm sensation of his tongue against you and his fingers roughly sliding in and out becomes too hard to hold back, so you reach for a pillow to drown out your cries of pleasure.

“Fuck fuck, oh my god. Chris!” your moans come out muffled by the pillow but Chris can still hear you. Hearing you call his name only gives him more confidence to go crazy, darting his tongue against your folds while pumping his fingers at a fast pace. Repetitive little ‘uh’s fall from lips as your legs quiver, and your hands fist the pillow as he builds you up to your climax. Right as you’re about to let go, he pulls away. The ghost of his lips making you whine at him, throwing the pillow off of your face, “Chris,” you groan at the loss of contact, only wanting needing more of him.

“Tell me baby,” Chris sounds as he rubs a hand down inside of your thigh, “tell me what you want,” brushing his lips against your knee and leaving a soft kiss.

“Fuck me,” you whimper, “I need you to fuck me,” pulling your body up from the mattress, and smashing your lips into his. “Please,” you practically beg after pulling away, letting your eyes flicker from his eyes to his lips, “I need you right now.”

Whatever magic spell Chris had you under was extremely impressive - and hard to get away from. No man had ever made you feel the way he did and he hadn’t even been inside you yet. Chris nods with urgency, stepping off of the bed to undress himself. Almost like an instinct, your hand makes its way between your thighs to pleasure yourself while you wait for him to undress. Your free hand finds its way to your breast, lightly clamping your nipple between your index finger and thumb. After Chris undresses, he hovers over you, taking in the amazing view of having the girl he’s wanted for the longest, masterbating in his bed. Dragging a thumb across your bottom lip and trailing it down to the breast you aren’t fondling. He pinches lightly at your nipple, “can’t wait for me, huh?” his voice stays hoarse from the groans he had been swallowing all night, “doesn’t look like you need me.”

His words make you stop abruptly, your hand flying from your swollen clit to his erection in one quick movement. He jumps at the contact, squeezing his eyes shut. “I told you I need you, so c’mere,” you bat your eyelashes at him, not letting him go as he takes a step forward. “If you don’t fuck me right now, I’m leaving and we’re never mentioning this again,” the words come out a bit more domineering than normal but you were tired of waiting.

Chris’s mouth drops, mimicking the same O-shape that was stuck on your face when he had his head buried between your thighs. You couldn’t tell if he was turned on or taken back, knowing him he was probably both. You watch him as he sinks down next to you, letting his hands roam your body until they reach your heat once again. “Fuck,” he goans as he rubs you. You take it as the perfect opportunity to wrap your lips around his cock, swirling your tongue around the tip before taking as much of him as you can in your mouth. “S-so fucking wet. So go-od, fuck,” he groans, the warm sensation of your head bobbing on his cock makes it hard for him to focus on pleasuring you. You felt like it was only right if you gave him amazing head just like he did to you. Chris’s hand rubs your back each time you pull back and push forwards like he’s giving you silent support, letting you know he enjoys it. As soon as he starts bucking his hips, indicating he’s close to finishing, you make sure to pull away, leaving him the same way he left you - needing you.

A wild smirk stretches across his face and he opens his mouth to speak, “ahh fuck you,” he groans, earning a giggle from you. Chris positions himself between your legs. Chris rubs a few circles along your clit as he lines himself up with your opening. He applies pressure, pushing through your fold and into your body slowly. A loud moan escapes your lips making him look at you. His bottom lip clamped between his teeth, “Shhh I know, baby,” his voice soothes you in a way and you close your eyes. Chris lets his body hover over you closely, leaning down to your ear as he lets you adjust to his size, and trailing sloppy kisses from your ear to your neck. You buck against him, signaling him to move. Chris takes initiative, slowly pulling back and pushing deeper into you, earning a gasp from you.

Chris rocks his hips back and forth, catching a rhythmic pattern, and hitting that certain spot inside of you. Your eyes widen at the feeling of your g-spot finally getting plowed into, something you’ve been needing for so long. “F-fuckk Chris,” you manage to get out, your voice getting stuck in your throat at first. In one swift motion, he pushes both of your legs to your chest so he can get better access to your dripping pussy. His other hand falls to your clit, rubbing it vigorously until your legs start to shake uncontrollably. He lets out a low chuckle, “already?”

“Ahh- I can’t,” you whimper as fucks you into a blissful state, “please, please, Chris.” Your begging only gives him the motivation to go harder, pulling all the way out, and thrusting into you until you’re on the base of his cock. He continues the same motions, making your body shake against your own will. He props your legs up on his shoulders, letting them part slightly so he can cower down down to you. Chris peppers wet kisses all over your chest, pressing a few to your lips. As he fucks you into an incoherent state, your vision becomes fuzzy and clouded with white spots. Finally giving in to the warm tingling sensation in your stomach, you let your eyes roll back, “oh my- Chrisss!”

Hearing you moan his name gives him the same familiar urge to fuck you to an obliterate state of mind. Small moans and cries fall from your lips while Chris plows deep inside you, filling you up right after you climax. He pulls out, earning a hiss from you, the loss of contact only makes you want him more. He lets his body collapse on top of you, laying a head on your chest, and planting another sloppy kiss against your right breast.

“That was crazy good,” he pants before looking up at you. A smile spread across your lips as you come down from the high he just gave you, “crazy fucking good,” you tell him. A chuckle falls from his lips, earning a giggle from yours.

Chris’s touch was too attentive, and you knew you’d be back for more. He gave you the best fuck of your life, easily. You felt pampered while he was fucking you, like you were the only thing that mattered to him, and for the moment you weren’t wrong. After seeing your love faces and cries of pleasure, he was head over heels for you, and he didn’t give a fuck what anyone had to say about it. He was determined to make you his.

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fairene · 7 months ago

Note

hello!! i LOVE your work you write the most interesting dynamics and your style always completely sucks me in! i saw you mentioned in the tags that requests were welcome and if it sounds fun, i'd love to read something with lando and a tennis player!reader, not just bc i love tennis lol but also bc it could be interesting to have him with someone who has experienced the same level of pressure. i'd love anything you wrote though!❤️

say less, my love.

pressure / ln4

a/n ⋯ a short pause from the one of your girls dual part. this was a beautiful request, and as a huge challengers enthusiast, i had to put it to paper. thank you so much for the request. also i am aware that the u.s. open takes place in new york, but for simplicity sake, we'll say its in miami.

music ⋯ link

warnings ⋯ no smut, fluff, angst, insecure thoughts, anxiety.

wordcount ⋯ 2.6k (unedited).

“you’re going to do amazing, my love.” lando’s words were soothing as he held you firmly against his chest. it was a saturday night in miami, both of you were dueling your own matches for the weekend. you were in the finals of your tournament held for the US open, whereas he was debuting in the miami grand prix the following afternoon.

your head shifted into his chest, nose burrowing into the fabric of his shirt with a soft hum. you knew he was right, but the pressure waned on you. how could it not? your entire career balanced on your performance, and thousands of people would be watching you. not only were you lando norris’ girlfriend, but also an up and coming star in your own career.

you kissed the fabric of his shirt, knowing the sentiment held little, but he appreciated the gesture regardless. his hand found the back of your head, threading his fingers through your hair. his touch was gentle, kind, one reserved only for you. it was moment’s like these that the pair of you found solitude in one another.

“i know, i just…” you hesitated, lifting your head so your chin rested on the center of his torso. he tightened his hand around your hip, cradling you against the firm shape of his body.

“what, baby?” he said with a soft tone, velvety to your ears. you couldn’t resist him. couldn’t hold anything back from him, despite wanting to spare him the worries you held. the last thing you wanted him to do was worry about you. especially when he had a huge event of his own.

but all he did was worry about you.

day and night he would dream both through the sun and beneath the moonlight of you. you. it was always you that he was concerned about. you, that he searched for atop his podiums. you, that he would attend all your matches when he could.

this was one of the rare events where they overlapped. he would only be there with you in the morning to see you off before your matches. then, you would reconcile with him in the evenings. post race, post tournament. it would be a tough day to manage on your own, but he felt the same way. you were the light to all of his races, the focal point of which he could relax. his anxiety roared in these conditions, but you somehow soothed him at every turn.

he needed you. but you couldn’t be there.

“i want you there.”

his features softened. there was a cloud of guilt brewing a thunderstorm above his head, threatening to rain down tears in your obvious distress. he hated seeing you this way, and most of all, he hated being the one who caused it.

“i know.” his thumb stroked across your cheek. “i would if i could.” you believe him. he was your number one fan, just as you were his. a match made in heaven, one might be able to jest. “‘nd i want you there, tomorrow, with me on the radio.”

you blushed, letting your face drop into the fabric of his sweatshirt. you felt his chest bellow with a deep laugh, centered at his core, letting his lids flutter at your bashful expression. your teeth even went as far as biting at his sweatshirt, which had him grumbling and pulling your hair up into a makeshift ponytail, raising your head to meet his eyes.

“you’ll be the death of me,” he uttered, saying with pure love. your relationship with him was full of complexities, but overall dominated by your fatuous love for one another. the pressures you both face in consequence of your performances…

“you’re going to win tomorrow.” you sat up on his lap, straddling his hips. you were both in your shared bed in the hotel, lounging in your sleepwear in the messed up sheets. tonight was between you two and no one else. lando slammed that ‘do not disturb’ sign on the door the minute the pair of you walked in for the evening. “i can feel it.”

“you think so?” he gulped, both his hands coming to run up the skin of your thighs. you shivered at his touch, but you were determined to keep a clear mind.

“i know so.” you watched his face relax with relief. your words of comfort meant ten times than anyone else's, and you would always give him the truth. its what he loved about you so much. your blatant honesty, your charisma, your ability to power through every obstacle in your life. but he knew just as much as you did that you wouldn’t be able to do any of it without each other. it was one of the many little beautiful things about your relationship.

lando’s anxiety would gnaw at him every chance it got. but since he’s entered a relationship with you, he feels like a fucking king, but he was nothing without his queen.

“don��t know,” he said, breaking the silence. “you’re my lucky charm.”

you rolled your eyes. “you’ve scored points at every race this season,” you pointed out. it was a fact. he was one of the only contending drivers to have such a prosperous season. you were delighted for him. “with or without me there.”

but he didn’t like your excuses. he squeezed your plush thighs beneath his calloused fingers, which had you gasping.

“don’t do that.”

you quirked a brow. “do what?”

“pretend like you don’t mean the world to me.”

you blushed and fell forward on his chest, your head falling into his neck. you giggled against his skin, unable to contain your smile. “stop that,” you insisted, blushing fiercely. a hand of his came to hold the back of your neck in a comforting grip.

“loving you?” you caught his gaze, bleary with love. “i don’t think i can.”

you were up at 5:30 that morning getting ready. lando was still sound asleep, snores being heard from the ensuite bathroom as your brushed your teeth and fixed your appearance. you wore a white tennis dressed, sponsored by fila, and just left when you made your way to the bed.

your hand brushed over lando’s exposed hip, shirtless in the bed with only a pair of boxers. he moaned in his sleep, pulling a pillow closer. but he was wide awake when he realized the pillow was made of feathers, and not you.

“come on, my love.” you said to him in the dark room, looming over him with your hair undone and bright white dress. he turned to face you, sitting up against the headboard. his hands came to rest over his head, stretching.

then he leaned in for a kiss, his hand cupping your cheek. you met him half way, sucking on his lower lip. he groaned, and you felt yourself shift, but couldn’t fall into his trap of desire.

“ah, ah.” you pulled away before his hand came to snatch you down into the bed. “you promised me breakfast.”

he fell back into the bed with disappointment. you laughed to yourself and made your way to the foyeur. you didn’t have to wait long when you heard him shifting and getting ready for the day ahead.

when you arrived to the courts that morning, lando was carrying most of your things. it had you smiling with appreciation, insisting that you could carry your wilson tennis bag. but he refused, saying that you worked too hard for this day to be carrying your own bag. let me help you, and you were sold.

you caught on to how much the crowds began to fill in. you were a sensation. but the notion would consistently fly over your head.

you were tense and lando could see that.

“hey,” his hand came to rest on your back. you leaned into him. “you’re going to do great, baby.”

you sucked in a tight breath. but what if you didn’t? what if, that these set of matches, would damn your career to near ruin? what if you could never be perfect?

your breathing became erratic. lando’s eyes widened, jumping into swift action as he covered your body with his. he backed you into a corner where no one could see the pair of you, and wrapped his hands around your body tightly.

“match me.” he said. the words were so familiar to you. the both of you had discovered a coping mechanism when things got too much, too overwhelming, and too over pressured. you’d fall into each other’s arms and hear one another breathe.

your lip quivered with tears. but you did as you were told.

with an ear pressed to his chest, you could hear the steady beat of his heart. the strength in his muscles. the blood rippling through his veins. most importantly, the rise and fall of his abdomen against your own.

with your thummering heart, you found pace with him. “in and out,” he would soothe, saying into the top of your head where he left kisses in his wake.

he stroked the small of your back, thumb running circles over you. you fell completely into him.

“what if i’m not good enough?”

the words broke him.

“then the world is full of fuckheads, i’ll tell you that.” his tone was firm, but ebbed with softness as he spoke into your scalp. his attempt at humor had you breaking into a soft chuckle. you appreciated him in this moment. “i’d kill all those fuckers, you just tell me who–”

your head broke away with a smile, finger coming to shush him.

“lando!”

“what? it’s true.”

you loved him.

“maybe so,” you reached up to kiss both of his flushed cheeks. “but i want you here. with me.”

his forehead connected with yours.

“you’ll always have me.” he placed his hand over your heart, and you placed yours over his.

“always?”

“always.” he promised.

the matches were flawless. you played to your body’s ultimate limit. you were skating across the base line, the volley line, snapping your shoulder with everything you had for your serves.

“love, all.” the announcer began.

you were up serving first.

this was it.

the final match out of six. whoever won this, won the title.

you thought about lando. you thought about his breath against your neck. the texture of his stubble. the pride in his eyes. sweat dribbled from your forehead as you let the tennis ball bounce a few times before you to get a feel for the clay courts.

and with one fluent swing and leap, the ball was set into the air.

the cockpit was hot. lando was sweating profusely in the miami air. the humidity had changed their course of strategy at mclaren, but he agreed with his engineers wholeheartedly. there had been a safety car, and he abused it. attack it.

when he was rounding corner after corner, lap after lap, he only thought of you. he thought of you in your pretty tennis dresses. you and your bright smile. you and your comforting touches, kissing him goodnight. it had his racing heart relaxing, fingers flexing against the steering drive.

you were perfect. his perfect fucking girl. you were all his– his soon to be championship winner. and he wanted to make you a promise that he would win. he would win this for you.

‘you’re going to win tomorrow,’ you said idly from atop his hips. you looked towards him with such riveting devotion. such intimacy that he never imagined was possible for someone to convey. but with you, anything was possible.

the two of you were not so different from one another. the pressures you both faced were immaculate. it’s what held you both so heavily bonded to one another. you needed each other’s comfort. the touch of your hands. the sweetness of your lips. he didn’t give a fuck about codependency. fuck who ever came up with that.

he’s going to fucking win. he will win for you. whatever it takes, he will stand on that podium in the firelli hat, and dedicate it all to you.

the score was 40-40.

your body shook with adrenaline, muscles pounding beneath your layer of skin. your body pumped with red hot blood, blood of a future champion. this title would be yours. you knew that the minute you walked onto this court with your opponent.

he was a smug gentleman. too smug. you wanted to wipe that fucking look off of his face. bruise it black and blue if you could.

though your anger could be taken out on the court. you let it.

your strokes were harder. faster. your serve pace was up to 140mph. he couldn’t even get to most of them with how your body contorted mid air, slamming it down and leaving an indent into the clay. you were a powerhouse. a machine. a gauntlet of beauty.

and when you scored the winning point after an intense rally, jumping high into the air for an ace, you rocked back into the balls of your feet. your hips swung, racket thwanging, and you cheered; “come on!”

your anger for him was palpable. it blinded you enough to forget the crowds. the only thing you had on your mind was winning, and that you did.

the stadium lit up and you were met with a flushing amount of cheers. you were handed a towel from one of the members of your team before being swarmed with paparazzi.

they all complimented you. congratulated you. asked about certain points, but there was one member that caught your eye.

“lando’s in the lead!” a cameraman said from the back. your head raised, brows quirking.

“what did you say?” you forced a path for the man to walk forward. he accepted your invitation, holding up his phone screen in one hand.

sure enough, you saw the standings. lando was in first. your boy was in first.

your eyes widened. “this is live, isn’t it?” you were panting, wiping the sweat from your forehead with the lemon-scented towel.

the man nodded, holding a microphone to you.

“how do you feel right now?” you kept watching. lap 55.

you kept quiet, and the rest of the paparazzi did too.

lap 56.

your hands clasped together, raising them to your mouth.

“come on, baby…” you said beneath your breath. this was the longest minute of your life, you were sure of it.

and when he crossed the finish line, he was only thinking about you.

lando norris, first time grand prix winner, shrieked with joy over the microphone.

you did, too, jumping up and down from your place on the court. the paparazzi swarmed you again, anticipating what you had to say for the both of you.

“he’s incredible, isn’t he?” you gushed with a smile on your face, tears dripping down your cheeks.

“what a day for you two, isn’t it?”

you couldn’t agree more. “i’ll cheers to that.”

you practically ran through the paddock. your tennis dress was still on, your team was irritated that you didn’t stay for press. you didn’t give a fuck. you just wanted to see lando. you had the rest of your life to deal with the press, but he only had one maiden win.

you were greeted with a plethora of congratulations from the mclaren team. zak brown even caught a glance at you, waving you over.

“podiums just about to start.” perfect. you made it in time.

and when you saw him there, standing idly as they played the national anthem, you were brought to the front. the camera panned on you and your weeping expression, hand covering your mouth from your sobs.

he saw it from the distance and his head snapped down to find you. his own emotions couldn’t be contained, not with you there– you, here, looking beautiful in the sea of people– and the tears slid down his cheeks.

your face broke into a smile when he saw you. he was yours.

and you were his. and you were in this together.

forever and always.

580 notes · View notes

sellenite · 1 year ago

Text

cherry blossoms 03 pairing: virgin!Choso x fem!reader contents: oral (m! receiving, sloppy, deep-throat, face-fucking), praise kink (lightly), dracryphilia, Choso is rough but still sweet, friends to lovers word count: 3.3K notes: DIRECT CONTINUATION OF 02! I pulled a crazy editing day (and night lol) on this series, so if you read the original part 2 and are now confused reading this one I am so sorry 😭 I will link the post where I explained the rewrite here: 🤡 but I hope everyone enjoys 🫶 tags: @tojicvmslut @vampress7 @venusinx @mochipip @matchafroggies724 @sabo-has-my-heart @serra10 MDNI | 18+

virgin!Choso whose lips parted in awe as he gazed down at you sitting on your knees before him. You had kissed your way down his torso sweetly, pulling up the hem of his t-shirt a little to press your lips against the bottom of his abs. He reveled in the softness of your lips as they explored more of his body, feeling like he was on cloud nine from all of the gentle attention you were giving him.

He watched you settle on the ground between his parted legs as he sat on the couch, the movie the two of you had put on long forgotten. You began to pull his sweatpants down his thighs and he thought for a moment that he shouldn’t feel so comfortable to be so exposed in front of you, to be so vulnerable. Yet, he had no reservations as he felt your delicate hands slowly remove his pants. When you asked him so sweetly if he trusted you, his answer was an obvious yes. He trusted you completely—with his mind, body, and soul—and he was ready to let you do whatever you wanted to him. And he could see the same tender affection he had for you reflected in your own eyes as you watched him, making sure he was comfortable every step of the way.

You couldn’t help but let out a small gasp as you lowered his pants more, revealing the heavy outline of his erection in his boxers, a dark stain of pre-cum already seeping through the fabric. He watched with curious, lustful eyes as you gingerly reached your hand out to stroke him over the material, feeling the thickness of his cock underneath your palm. He groaned low in his throat, his hips rolling a little as you teased him over his underwear, your hand lightly gripping his length as you gave it gentle strokes.

“Take them off… Please,” Choso begged with a light laugh, to which you returned with your own giggle and a nod. The need you felt for one another at this moment was palpable, yet the playful comfort of your relationship never faded. Choso lifted his hips as you tugged the waistband of his boxers down and they quickly joined his sweatpants around his ankles. His heavy cock sprang free the moment you lifted the material from his body, thick head standing upright against his stomach as it leaked. You blinked a few times as you took in the sight, almost intimidated as you registered how large he was.

virgin!Choso who saw your reaction and felt a moment of doubt, self-conscious fears suddenly racing through his mind. But then you took him so gently into your soft hands and that was enough to make his worries retreat. He let out a light gasp as he felt your hand wrap around his shaft, squeezing him so perfectly that it made his tip dribble even more. You took a moment to familiarize yourself with his cock, gently tracing the veins that ran over it and watching as the fluid started to spill down his pretty head.

His length was impressive, but what you found even more thrilling was how thick and veiny his shaft was. His skin was smooth to the touch underneath the pad of your thumb as you gingerly followed the prominent vein that spanned the underside of him. Immediately, he felt the difference between your hand and his; yours was so much smoother than his rough, calloused palms. Your touch was so delicate, yet so deliberate. Your thumb reached his head and you swiped over his drooling slit, causing his hips to twitch as he sucked in a breath, his keen eyes watching your every movement.

“You’re even bigger than I thought you’d be, Cho... And so pretty,” you giggled sweetly as you wet your lips with your tongue, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth in your excitement. He didn’t quite understand why being “big” was a good thing, but he could hear the wonder in your voice and it made his chest swell with pride that you were pleased with him; and that you thought he was pretty.

"Thank you," he whispered softly, watching as your hand intimately explored his body. You smiled up at him, your pretty eyes creasing in the corners the way he loved so much, but they were darker with lust now. You used your palm to gently stroke over his head, spreading his pre-cum over his shaft as you moved your hand back down in a fist. You began to grip his length with a little more pressure, using his fluid to slowly stroke up and down. He moaned your name softly, his abs clenching as you pumped him steadily and his body became increasingly eager for more. He watched with heavy-lidded eyes and parted lips as you inched your face closer to his throbbing length, holding the base of his shaft tightly in your grasp as you held his gaze.

“Let me make you feel good…” You said in a silken tone, and he watched, unblinking, as your soft lips drew closer to his flushed head.

virgin!Choso who let out a reflexive whimper as you stuck your tongue out to flick the point of your muscle delicately against the underside of his tip—teasing his frenulum. He let out a low moan as you kept teasing him like this, his body trembling lightly against the couch and his lips hanging open as his breathing became heavier. His cock twitched as he felt the wetness of your tongue working against his skin, playfully licking at all of the sensitive spots he didn't even realize he had. His hands shakily found your cheeks, his large palms tenderly cradling your face. You licked over his drooling head—collecting the faintly salted pre-cum that dripped from his slit—and hummed in satisfaction at his clean taste. The spit from your mouth leaked off of your tongue, slipping down his length messily as you looked up at him from under your lashes. You watched as he bit into his lip unconsciously, his eyes staring into yours with an intensity you had only ever seen on his face in battle, concentrating on your every move.

Choso could feel his brain practically melting over how hot the visual of you on your knees for him was. Your perfect, pretty face, your bright eyes, your soft, cherry-colored lips… You were so beautiful and sweet, yet so naughty, as he watched you work your tongue over his aching length—the contradiction making his head feel thick with lust. Seeing your pretty lips so glossy with spit and his pre-cum made his dick feel like it was about to burst at any second. He barely understood this feeling: the desire to want something, someone, so badly that he physically ached. But there you were, on your knees between his legs with your pretty mouth running up and down his cock… And he felt the urge to do things to you that he barely even understood.

He whimpered again and rolled his hips involuntarily as you swirled your tongue around his tip, the sensations driving him insane. He couldn’t help but start whining for you, and you hadn’t even put him properly in your mouth. But the way your warm, wet tongue teased him was enough for him to know that his hand would never come close to the amount of pleasure you could give him.

“Need more, please,” he begged softly, in his deep, gruff voice. His eyes were so dark with lust as he held your gaze, watching as your tongue lolled out to lick up his shaft on either side. He groaned low in his throat, his fingers threading into the hair at the back of your head as his touch grew unconsciously rougher.

“You’re so needy today, Cho,” you teased him with a smile before pressing your lips lightly to his tip. But you were feeling the same urge. You were so turned on from watching and feeling how responsive he was to your touch; you couldn’t help but want to give him more, to be the one to make him feel pleasure he had never experienced before.

virgin!Choso who was about to respond to your teasing when your mouth suddenly wrapped around the head of his cock—and any cohesive thought in his brain was obliterated. Choso let out a husky groan and pushed himself back into the couch cushions as he felt your lips form a tight ring around his tip, gently moving up and down over his ridge. His hips stuttered up as you sucked him and he watched you—utterly entranced—with heavy eyes and flushed cheeks. He could feel your tongue still flicking against his frenulum as you looked up at him with your beautiful mouth stuffed full of his cock; so heavenly, yet so sinful. He felt he could get off from the view alone, his breathing coming out in fast, ragged moans. You let your lips ease slowly down his shaft feeling them stretch around his thickness as you hollowed your cheeks, wanting to make sure it felt good for him.

You pushed your mouth further down his cock—flattening your tongue against the vein on the underside of his length—making his hips buck suddenly, forcing him to the back of your throat. You gagged at the sudden intrusion—your throat constricting around his thick head, squeezing around his dick so perfectly— as spit poured from your lips. Choso whimpered loudly and his hips jerked up once more as his body instinctively chased after the warm wetness of your throat. His trembling hands unconsciously forced your face against his navel, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure as he pushed deeper into you. Your throat contracted around his swollen tip as you gagged again, starting to feel light-headed from the lack of oxygen. You let out a gargled cry and dug your nails into Choso’s strong thighs; the sharp sting bringing him back down to reality for a moment long enough that he could recover control of his body.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He apologized profusely as his strong hands suddenly relinquished their force on the back of your head, giving you the chance to sit back up. You coughed as your mouth pulled off of his length, spit dribbling down your chin as you struggled to catch your breath. Choso looked down to meet your eyes—glassy with unspilt tears—and a pang of guilt tugged at his heart.

“I’m so sorry… I-I didn’t mean to–” Choso started nervously, afraid that he had hurt you when he saw your glistening eyes. He felt immense guilt. Here you were, offering so kindly to help him and he had ruined it. You could see the anxiety brewing in his wide, purple eyes, so you shook your head and shushed him gently, rubbing a reassuring palm over his thigh.

“It’s okay, Choso—really… I just... Didn’t expect it was all,” you said with a sweet laugh, still a little breathless but smiling up at him. You took a moment to regain your composure, wiping some of the spit that had leaked down your chin off with your hand. You could see his expression relax a little, but there was still a lingering doubt hiding in the slight furrow of his brows. “You can be rougher, if you want to be… I don’t mind,” you offered gently, your eyes looking coyly up into his.

virgin!Choso who swallowed nervously as he took in your words. His hands were back on your face now, his thumbs rubbing tenderly across your cheekbones.

“But… I don’t want to hurt you…” Choso said softly. Yet, he couldn’t deny the inexplicable lust he had felt for watching you drool over his cock, seeing those unspilt tears make your eyes shine so pretty. You shook your head gently. “You won’t. I’ll stop you if it’s too much,” you promised him assuredly. Choso swallowed nervously again, but consented with a light "O-okay," too captivated by the idea of feeling his dick inside of your warm, tight throat to put up much of a fight. His hands stayed on your cheeks as you started to pump his cock slowly with your fist again, using all of the spit that had dripped from your mouth to easily slide up and down his length. Choso whimpered, his hips already bucking gently up to meet your movements.

“Fuck… It feels so good,” he whimpered and you felt your core clench up at his needy tone. You were already so wet from sucking his cock, hearing him beg and whimper for you was making you feel like you could cum just from watching him. “Mmm, I know it does, Cho… Want to make you feel even better though,” you couldn’t help but moan back to him.

Your hand slid up and down his shaft a few more times, making audible wet sounds from how much spit had leaked out of your mouth when he gagged you. You continued to use your hand on the lower part of his length, stroking him steadily as you brought your lips to wrap around his tip once more. His hands slid back into your hair, gently holding the loose strands of hair from your face. When you felt comfortable, you picked up the pace again, sliding your lips further down Choso’s cock as your hand stroked in rhythm with your mouth. Your lips and hand were wrapped so perfectly around him… So wet, so warm, so tight… Choso’s head was spinning and he could feel his control slipping.

“Feels so good…” He repeated once more in a repressed whine as he attempted—in vain—to restrain the movements of his thrusts. “Wanna give you more, pretty. Can you take more?” He asked you so desperately, his eyes glazed over with lust and his eyebrows furrowed deeply. You could feel his thighs trembling, the little jumps his hips made as he struggled not to fuck your face as aggressively as his cock was telling him to. You hummed around him and removed your hand from his shaft, giving him permission to use your throat.

virgin!Choso who lost any remaining semblance of control after you took your hand off of him. He tried to start slowly, trying to make his hips roll lightly into your face, wanting to be as gentle as he could. But he kept pushing deeper with every thrust, making his tip press against the tight ring of your throat harder each time until he was slipping past it, bullying into it. He moaned heavily as he watched your lips stretch to fit his girth and clusters of tears gathered in your waterline, the sight only making him thrust harder.

Choso’s breathing was coming out fast again as he watched you take more of his length. His moans were breathy and whiny as his dick took over and he fucked himself into your face blatantly. His voice was so husky, but his moans were so soft and desperate and it made your cunt throb with want as he used your throat. He was humping his hips into your face with abandon now, one strong hand gripping into your hair and forcing you down on his cock while the other held onto your shoulder like a lifeline. You focused hard on relaxing your throat as he manually bobbed your head up and down his length, his dick getting squeezed so perfectly every time he felt your throat gag and constrict around him.

“F-fuck… Thank you, Y/N…Thank you…” He whined in his gruff voice, his hips shaking as he forced the warm wetness of your mouth down and up his swollen cock. He watched you drool and gag as he abused your throat, spit dripping from your chin and onto his heavy balls. His dark eyes watched as you struggled for him, for the sake of his pleasure, and he felt that familiar pressure building inside of him. You blinked up at him—vision blurred from tears—watching as his pretty face contorted with passion. The corners of his dark eyebrows were curved upwards and his swollen lips parted as he watched you so pliantly take his thick cock.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Choso moaned out desperately—sounding as if he were near crying—his hips jerking more erratically as he neared his release. His back arched as his body trembled against the cushions, his head thrown back once again as he panted and whimpered. “Gonna cum,” he cried out in the most pathetically erotic voice you had ever heard. “Gonna cum in your pretty mouth…” His hand had made a fist in your hair, holding your head steady now as he let his volatile thrusts push him over the edge.

virgin!Choso who pulled your face flush against his pelvis as his cock twitched and he released his cum deep into your throat with a sob. You watched the breathtaking sight before you through watery eyes; Choso’s body trembling above you, his neck—littered with blooming lovebites—stretched so beautifully as his head tipped against the back of the couch. He panted and whined your name and his hips bucked into your face with every rope of cum that spurted from his pulsing length, forcing you to swallow all of it.

He groaned as his cock finally stopped twitching and as his grip on your hair relaxed, letting your lips release his thick cock with a pop. You pulled back, breathing heavily as drool streamed down your chin, and your eyes were glossed over with tears. A thick strand of spit hung between your lips and Choso’s tip as the two of you struggled to regain your breath. With effort, Choso pulled his head up to look down at you and gave you a dizzy grin, panted laughs escaping from his chest as he reveled in the afterglow of his orgasm. He took in your flushed cheeks, your disheveled hair, and your glassy eyes as you smiled back at him; and he thought you were the most beautiful being he had ever seen.

“How- How was that?” Choso asked breathlessly, his brain still too dazed to form a coherent sentence. You laughed in return, your eyes creasing in the corners and making him chuckle back at his own speechlessness. “You did so good, Choso," you praised him sweetly, wiping the residual drool from your chin and tears from your cheeks. "It was really hot... Watching you let go like that,” you admitted to him a little shyly as you helped pull his boxers back up his thighs, covering his half-hard cock back up (for now).

“How was it for you?” You asked him a little smugly as you smiled up at him, confident you knew his answer. Choso smirked lightly, rolling his eyes, but he still entertained your question.

“Incredible… I... Didn’t know it could feel that good,” he admitted sincerely, still in disbelief at just how blissful you had made him feel. You smiled at him warmly and laughed as you rose to your feet, feeling more than a little proud of yourself. Choso watched you stand, his eyes gazing at you with adoration and contentment and a lazy grin plastered on his face. He patted his muscular thigh, suddenly feeling emboldened to show you just how grateful he was for you.

“Your turn..."

these just keep getting longer omg 😭 but I am having so much fun making this series more of a slow-burn and I hope you guys are enjoying as well 🫶

#jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #choso kamo smut #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo x you #choso kamo x y/n #choso smut #choso x reader #choso x you #choso x y/n #kamo choso smut #kamo choso x reader #kamo choso x you #kamo choso x y/n

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nanpecan · 10 days ago

Text

₊✩‧₊˚once more to see you˚₊✩‧₊ pt 6

{nanami x f!reader}

pt 1. pt 2. pt 3. pt 4. pt. 5

˚₊✩‧₊summary: You’re a manager at Jujutsu Kaisen and you’ve now had two three four extremely intimate encounters with grade 1 sorcerer Nanami Kento, but who's keeping count.... You're preparing for your morning date at your place when you get some unexpected company.

˚₊✩‧₊tags: nanami x fem!reader, nanami gets a little jealous but don't worry bc I can't stand miscommunication tropes, explicit smut towards the end (mdni)

˚₊✩‧₊word count: 8.6k SORRY LOL

˚₊✩‧₊author’s note: lemme start by saying im sorry for taking so long to post the next part but i have been going through it :D i am so grateful for all the positive feedback and messages i've gotten in my absence, i've missed my fellow nanami freaks, so this one is for all yall<3 also i posted this on A03 yesterday...i just feel like its faster posting it there bc im lazy. thank you to everyone for reading!

taglist at the end and feel free to let me know if you want off or if want to be added!

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After about thirty minutes of scrubbing you came to accept that the pink frosting stain wasn’t going to come out of your shirt. You sighed and put down the wet fabric. Another shirt lost to your shenanigans with Nanami. You laughed to yourself as the realization hit you. You’d lost three shirts in the last four days…you should probably plan to go shopping soon. You grimaced, maybe you should have saved that extra money you’d sent your mother earlier in the week.

You went around your apartment cleaning here and there, you had found it in better shape than you remembered, but compared to his apartment you felt that yours was definitely lacking in cohesive design. Your eclectic furniture was a little bit of every style, the art on your walls didn’t really follow a theme, you just framed things you liked. You tidied up more than you think you ever had and smiled as you looked around. It may not have been much, but it was home. You felt safe here.

The building as whole was another issue. You’d frowned when you had seen the elevator was still out of order. Nanami would have to take the seven flights of stairs just like you had. You looked down at your phone, maybe you could reschedule? Meet somewhere else to have breakfast? No, he had been looking forward to seeing your apartment. It was such a silly thing but you could tell he really wanted to. You wiped down your kitchen countertops one more time before cleaning the small dishes in your sink.

You were planning on going to bed a bit earlier than usual. You were going to prep breakfast to make some pastries for him in the morning. It had been a while since you’d baked. You looked around, satisfied at your cleaning streak. You decided to shower before continuing, maybe you’d be able to catch anything you had missed afterwards.

You stepped out of the shower and walked up to the sink. What a crazy few days you’d had. You hadn’t really had the chance to be alone and process everything. You stared at your reflection as you wiped the mirror. You’d never really thought of yourself as someone worthy of being desired. An odd thing to admit, but you had also never really had the luxury of having the sort of life where that would matter. The world of Jujutsu Sorcery was a fast paced one and every day could be your last, so you often found yourself discouraged from participating in things people your age did. Dating, partying, traveling…it's not like you could afford it either. The only reason you’d really ever gone out was because of Akari. She would invite you to go out to places where she could relive her delinquent youth. She was also the reason you had gone on any dates in the first place. That reminded you, you needed to text her and see when she was free to hangout. You had a lot to catch her up on.

You walked out to your living room and sat on the couch, picking up your phone. It suddenly dawned on you that you had never gotten Nanami’s number. You seemed to remember Akari saying she gave him yours. You opened your messages and scrolled to confirm.

Something made a noise in your kitchen.

Your blood ran cold. Was it an intruder? A curse? Had something broken in? You slowly reached under the couch and pulled out a baseball bat. You sat up and looked towards the noise, but didn’t see anything. A cup holding your washed silverware had been knocked over. Okay…maybe it had just come unbalanced. You got up holding the bat up and slowly approached the kitchen. You cautiously made your way around the counter looking down and jumped.

It was your neighbor's cat.

You sighed in relief and lowered your bat. “Messi, what are you doing here?” You picked up the orange cat who meowed in return. “How have you been? It’s been a while.” He meowed again. “Really?” Meow. “I’ve been good. I met someone.” Meow. “Well he was someone I already knew.” You walked out of your apartment, cat in tow, and made your way next door. Your window had a tear in the screen and Messi had made a habit of going through it and somehow prying open your window (which didn’t lock) and wandering into your place. You didn’t mind, you had actually set up a little water bowl for him in your apartment.

You knocked on the door. “Hi, it’s Y/N. I'm returning Messi, I haven’t been home for a couple of days, so I don’t know how long he’s been in there.”

You heard some shuffling and suddenly an older lady opened the door. You had never seen her before. She looked at you and then at the cat. “Keep the damn thing.”

“Excuse me?”

“Y/N?” You heard a familiar voice from behind the lady, your neighbor. She made her way to the door and you saw she was crying. She took the cat in her arms and held him close, starting to cry again. “Thank you.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Osuke had his second trial today and was convicted,” she said through tears. Osuke was her husband.

“That stupid lawyer, I should curse his entire family,” the old lady muttered. You had a feeling she was Osuke’s mother.

“I’m so sorry, is there anything I can do to help?” you asked. You had known about the trial, it had been ongoing for a couple of months now. He had been arrested after being framed for a robbery. The story you had been told was that his boss had been the one to frame him. He was a bottom tier worker, and the perfect scapegoat for the crime.

“No, thank you though,” the woman said.

“You can take the damn cat. She’s moving out of here. After the lawyer’s fees and the loss of his income she’s moving in with me, I don’t want to take care of that thing,” the older lady said.

“I’ll take care of it, please,” the woman cried.

The lady grumbled something else and went back inside. “Thank you for bringing him back.” She wiped her tears and offered you a hug. “We’ll be out by tomorrow, I can't afford the rent. I’m already behind on the last two months.”

“Don’t worry about it. I hope everything works out. You have my number, call me if you need anything. Anything at all.” You smiled at her and she nodded and closed the door.

You stood alone in the hallway. Everything was so silent. You heard the women arguing again and you sighed. You went back into your apartment, sitting on your couch again. You hoped everything would work out for them. The couple next door had been so nice. Osuke and Makiko and their cat Messi, they’d lived here longer than you had. You sighed and rubbed your temples. There really wasn’t much you could do for them.

You reached for your phone again and went to text Akari.

-sorry i meant to text you earlier, and then i got distracted again. messi was in my apartment and scared me to death. -when are they going to fix that damn window for you? -i don’t mind, i love that cat. -but if he can get in so can other things, my skin is crawling just thinking about it -someone is on the road to getting uninvited from my place. -no way, you owe me from all the times I’ve let you crash at my place -damn…speaking of, when is your next free day? we need to hang out. -i can do the day after tomorrow, i have a half day, does that work? -perfect, i’m also just coming in in the morning -you can tell me all about your adventures with the old man. have you said yes to being his girlfriend yet? -he hasn’t asked me yet -boooo

You started typing when you received a notification from an unknown number.

-Did you make it home okay?- It read. You smiled. -is this who I think it is? -Y/n it’s me, it’s Nanami Kento. -then it is who I thought. I did make it home safe, I found my neighbor's cat in my apartment so I’m glad I came to check, they’re moving out tomorrow morning. -So you’re free now? -…yes ? -That’s good, get some rest. Have a good night. I'll see you tomorrow.

Hmm you thought he was going to ask something else. You looked at the clock. It was 7:53, earlier than you thought. I should probably get started, you thought to yourself. You pulled yourself off of the couch and went into your kitchen. You would make your dough tonight and let it proof overnight.

Overnight proofing is the best way to make bread.

You were shot back into a memory.

The best things in life are worth waiting for you know. And what’s better than fresh bread? Nothing! Ask anyone that comes in tomorrow, I dare you.

You smiled fondly as you rolled the dough into a little acorn shape before rounding it out and setting it in a glass bowl.

As you finished up you checked the time. You had gotten done pretty quickly. You just needed the topping for the melon bread, which you could make as the oven heated up in the morning. You checked your pantry one last time for brown sugar and you realized you didn’t have any. You frowned. You’d run out for some in the morning. If you didn’t go to bed soon you weren't going to want to get up in the morning.

You sat for a moment and noticed the silence again. It’s not like it wasn’t ever quiet around here, but maybe after the events of the last four days something about being alone bothered you. It surely hadn’t before.

You moved into your bedroom and lay on the bed. You usually felt stuffy in here, that’s why you preferred to lay out on the couch, at least it seemed more of an open space compared to your bedroom. But now it felt nice. You felt safe.

You stared at your ceiling. “Maybe I should call him,” you said out loud to yourself. You closed your eyes and imagined his smile. The way his perfect teeth shone, the way his nose crinkled a bit when the corners of his mouth lifted, his lips on yours. You swallowed and opened your eyes. If you let your mind wander any longer you’d be in trouble. You groaned in frustration. You missed him, how pathetic. You had always been one to make fun of how quickly people in your field tended to get together, but here you were.

You heard your neighbor and her mother in law faintly arguing through the walls. You frowned trying to think if there was really nothing you could do.

You had too much “compassion”, you had been told by one of the old professors at Jujutsu Tech. There’s no way to save everyone and to try is to doom yourself. You scowled as you remembered what he had said to you. The arguing died down and you hoped to yourself they worked it out. At least they had each other going through this. Things were tense now but hopefully they’d adjust. You made a note to check in on them tomorrow. You went to set your alarm when you remembered Shoko had wanted you to stop by her office early in the morning. You groaned and set your alarm for earlier than you had intended. Nanami said he’d be by around 7, it would have to be a quick breakfast as you wanted to get to the school by 8, you hoped he didn’t mind. You finally drifted to sleep.

You groaned as your alarm woke you up, but you quickly sat up and went to wash your face. You needed to split the dough, and lay the cookie topping over it and let it proof for another 30 minutes at least. You could run out to your corner store while they sat and you preheated the oven.

As you opened the door to exit, you almost tripped on a pile of items placed in front of your place. Cat toys, a litter box, cans of cat food, a small bed, and a note.

Messi got out again last night and I’m afraid we just don’t have time to look for him. I think he’s better off with you anyway. I’m sorry for the inconvenience. If it’s too much I've contacted a shelter that would take him. Here is the number.

You frowned a bit. You loved Messi but you didn’t want a cat. You dragged the items into your apartment and quickly went out the door. You’d deal with this later, you were already running behind.

As you stepped back into the hall, winded and trying to catch your breath after returning and climbing the seven floors, you looked up to see a man in a suit knocking on your neighbors door. This wasn’t your man in a suit, quite the opposite.

You approached him cautiously. He had jet black hair, his suit was dark, and he reeked of alcohol.

“Please, just let me apologize- I did all I could. I won’t charge ya any money, just please, I’m sorry.” He stumbled as he continued to knock. You were going to have to get past him to get to your door. There was no avoiding him.

“Excuse me,” you said, announcing yourself behind him. The man turned to look at you. His eyes were tired and sleepy, he had deep bags under his eyes and his sharp nose was red. He was definitely drunk. “If you’re looking for the residents, they’ve moved out.”

“What?”

“They’ve moved out, what did you need to tell them?” you asked.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“You’re sorry?”

“I need to apologize to them. Osuke was jailed. It’s not fair. The whole system is corrupt. I should-”

“Were you their lawyer?” you asked.

“Yes,” he turned back and started pounding on the door again. “Please let me speak to you!”

“Tell him to stop that before I call the police!” an old man from down the hall had stuck his head out of his door to yell.

“Sir, no one is in there. You have to go, it’s too early to be causing such a ruckus,” you said.

“I need to apologize,” he whined. You noticed a buzzing coming from his pocket, his phone was ringing.

“Do you need to get that?” you asked.

He pulled the phone out of his pocket and handed it to you before turning back to the door. The caller ID said Shimizu. You grabbed the man's shoulder and pulled him away from the door as you answered with your other hand.

“Hello?”

“Yes, hello… is this Higuruma’s cellphone? Who’s speaking?” A woman spoke on the other end.

“Ah, he just handed me his phone. He’s very drunk and knocking at someone- I think maybe one of his clients' doors.”

You heard her curse, “Would you be able to tell me where he is? I apologize for the disturbance, I’ll come by to get him as soon as I know where to go.”

“Ah, yes-” he pulled himself from your grip and started going towards the door again. “Sir-”

“There is no justice!” he cried out.

You stared at him a bit shocked, what was he on about? You told the woman your address.

“I can be there in around 25 minutes. Would there be any way you could keep him put? I apologize again for the inconvenience.”

“I’ll try my best…” you looked at the man as he collapsed onto his knees, staring forward at the door. You walked over to him and handed him his phone. “Shimizu is on her way to get you,” you said. He just stared. You looked at your apartment and sighed. “Would you like to wait for her inside?” You pulled the man up to his feet and unlocked your apartment. You held the door open as he stumbled inside. You reached inside and grabbed a couple of cans of cat food to hold your door open. The last thing you wanted was for Nanami to get the wrong idea.

Once inside you rushed over to your kitchen to check on the bread. The man walked around not looking at anything in particular, but just moping. “Have a seat,” you motioned to the small table and chairs. He sat down and you turned back to your baking, unpacking the sugar you had just bought. You quickly grabbed a plate and spread the sugar, then you rolled the diamond patterned tops in the sugar. You placed the six little buns you had made back on the baking sheet. The oven still had a couple of minutes before it was ready.

You turned back to the man and were shocked to find him staring at you. “You just let a strange drunk man into your apartment, while alone?”

“I left the door open…” you muttered. “Besides, I think I could take you in a fight. I’ve dealt with worse.” He gave you a questioning look. “Would you like some water? Some tea? Coffee?”

“Water.” You poured him a glass and walked it over to him. He began rubbing his temples with his hand. He seemed to be sobering up quickly. You grabbed a couple of crackers from your shelf and handed them to him too.

“Eat something, get a grip before your friend comes to get you.”

You heard the oven ding and you walked over to put the pasties in the oven. You set a timer for twenty minutes. Looking at the clock you had about 30 until Nanami showed up, probably less since he seemed to be pretty punctual. You turned back to the man and saw he had chugged the water and was gingerly taking a bite out of the crackers. You started cleaning up the kitchen, putting the bowls in the sink and clearing off your small drying rack.

“Who is coming to get me?” he asked.

“Ah, your friend, I think her name was Shimizu,” you answered. He muttered something under his breath. “More water?” you asked.

He nodded. You went over with a pitcher and filled his cup, this time sitting down across from him. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

“So…there’s no justice in the world, huh?” You asked. He frowned. “I don’t think that’s something I’d want to hear from my lawyer,” you eyed him curiously.

“I apologize for my outburst.”

“No, no I understand. From what I know Osuke was innocent. It must be frustrating to lose a case, especially when what happened was so unfair.” You thought back to the old woman grumbling about the lawyer. “That old lady was very angry, I can’t imagine that’s easy on you.”

His hand gripped the cup tightly. “People have no sense of understanding right or wrong. Everything is so black and white to them. But there are so many complications before you can see one or the other clearly.” He stared at the cup. “Most only see the bad, the ugly, that’s the easiest thing to pick out, the easiest to understand. I think most people assume that others are inherently bad, so expecting bad things to come from them is second nature.” You stayed silent as he contemplated his words. “It doesn’t help when your client looks like a bad guy, it’s an uphill battle, but I try I really do.”

He sighed, taking a drink of water before continuing. “ If I lose a case, it's easy to blame me. I'm much more tangible than blaming some higher power for not being in your favor. No one wants to believe that I do this out of a want to help others, they see me as wanting money, as taking advantage of those in dire situations. They only ever see me as greedy when I lose. Another bad guy. I want to help, but when it comes down to it, who am I to a jury, to a judge? I’m another bad person, defending a bad person who did a bad deed. They think if they were truly innocent I wouldn’t have to work as hard, I wouldn’t have to find such cunning ways to prove their innocence, but I try. Not out of trickery or malice, but because I want to believe that not everyone is bad. But again and again people only see me as a bad guy defending bad people, and I'm afraid I'm losing sight of what this all used to mean to me.”

You looked at the cup he was holding. “I see…” you thought about everything he had just said. You thought a part of him was just feeling sorry for himself, but other points he made were valid. There was a time when you thought everyone in the world might have been bad too. “When I was sixteen…I left my home because of an incident,” you started. “I was alone and scared and I thought that it had happened to me because I was bad.” You frowned slightly as you recalled the events. “And because I thought I was bad, I justified a lot of the things I did. I snuck onto buses and trains to get to Tokyo, away from where I was because I didn’t feel like I deserved to be there, I didn’t deserve to be close to my family. And I stole…a lot…not big things, not precious things, food mostly. I was hungry and had no place to stay and I saw others do it…and so I became ‘bad’. I became what I thought I was, what I believed the world wanted me to be.” You looked up at him, he was staring at you trying to figure out where you were going with this. “But then I met someone, someone who was good, someone who only ever saw the good in people no matter what and that…changed me.”

“Who did you meet?” he asked.

“I went to a bakery,” you smiled fondly and looked down at your hands on the table. “I had known about it since I arrived in Tokyo, the line was always out of the door by 7 am, but I had never had the chance to go in. I mean, I never even had the money for it and the owner, she was this sweet old lady and even though I was already stealing food from other places, I felt like if I stole from her I would be too far gone.

But as it goes, the more I stole, the more I felt entitled to, and after a month of fighting it, I finally gave in and made a plan.” You shifted in your seat, you had never told anyone this story. “I made a plan, and woke up early, to be one of the first in line. I was sixth or seventh outside the door, and when I finally got to go in I felt like crying, it smelled so good and it was so warm. She greeted everyone with such kindness and it was just her that day. I had seen a granddaughter with her before, but this morning it was just the lady.

“I pretended to look around, considering what to buy. I let people go in and out before I finally decided on a single piece of Melon bread, delicately wrapped in plastic. It was the most beautiful thing I think I’d ever seen. I grabbed the piece and tucked it under my arm and started heading towards the door. I turned to check if anyone had seen me and I saw her staring at me.” You laughed and shook your head. “She was just staring at me and her eyes went to the piece of bread I had tucked under my arm and you know what she did?” You looked up at him. “She looked back into my eyes, smiling the whole time, and said to come back soon. I ran out of there, terrified for my life. I thought she was going to call the cops, but there was something about her smile that just seemed so genuine.

I think I got about ten steps down the road before I stopped. The guilt was too much, I felt sick to my stomach. I didn’t deserve to have something so nice. I was bad, and I had done a bad thing.” You scrunched your nose. “I went back immediately. I pushed past the people in line and went right up to her and I handed her the bread back. She looked at me confused and just shook her head. ‘You can have it, it’s your first time here right? Take a seat, let me know what you think of it.’” You laughed and covered your face with your hands. “I sat down and just cried while I ate it. I bawled, like people stared at me out of concern.” The lawyer stared at you. “When I finished she came up to me and asked how it was. I started apologizing profusely and she just handed me another one, and asked if I’d like to learn how to make my own,” you shook your head incredulously.

“She offered me a job and a place to stay. I still don’t understand how she was able to see right through me.” You heard the timer go off and you shot up to get the bread out of the oven. You smiled as you saw how perfectly the six little buns had crisped up. You transferred them over to a plate and grabbed one for the lawyer. You placed it in front of him. “There are bad people out there, but there are also good people. There has to be a natural balance otherwise everything would fall apart, don’t you think?” You looked at him as he stared at the pastry before him. “I can see that you really care about your clients. Even if this was a bit inappropriate to do, drunkenly asking to speak to them and all, but the right sentiment is there.” He pressed his lips together into a thin line. “The world needs more people that are willing to look past everything and find the good. I hope you can keep doing that.”

You heard laughter from the hallway and looked over the lawyer’s shoulder at the open door to see Nanami and a sharply dressed woman stepping out of the stairway. The woman suddenly looked at you and then at the lawyer. “Higuruma!” She quickened her step towards your place. Nanami followed behind her. “Pardon my intrusion,” she said as she entered. She stomped up to the man checking on him before turning to you. She bowed slightly. “I apologize for his behavior. This is completely out of character for him, I don’t know what he’s thinking. I’m sorry-”

“It’s okay, he explained some of what’s been going on. Do you work with him?”

“Yes, my name is Shimizu, I’m a colleague of his, I’m also a lawyer.”

“I’m Y/N, sorry we have to meet like this.” You turned your attention to Nanami who was staring at the man. “Sorry our breakfast plans got thrown around a little.”

Shimizu turned towards Nanami and then back to you. “Ah, I see...” She smiled at you. “I’ll take over now, thank you again for your help. Here’s my business card, let me know if there’s ever anything you need.” You took her card and smiled. Fancy, you thought to yourself.

“Wait,” Higuruma said. “Have my card too,” he felt around his pockets for them but couldn’t find anything.

“Don’t tell me you lost your wallet,” Shimuzu said, annoyed. She pulled out another card and handed it to you. “Here’s his card as well.”

“Thanks.”

“Thank you for listening to me…” Higuruma looked like he was trying to remember your name.

“Y/N,” you repeated.

He smiled at you. “Wait!” he said again as Shimuzu started pushing him out. “My melon bread…” he muttered, turning back and grabbing it off the plate. Shimuzu sighed and continued to push him out.

You watched the two bicker as they went down the hall and into the staircase. You became aware of Nanami’s eyes on you. You reached down to move the cat food out of the door frame and let the door shut. “If I ever got called to fetch you out of some stranger’s apartment after you had a drunken night out, I don’t think I’d be as calm as she was,” you said. You turned back to him after he hadn’t said anything. “I hope you’re not getting the wrong idea. I helped him out and we just talked.” You frowned. “I feel like saying that makes me seem more guilty, but I don’t even know why I’m defending myself here.” You turned to him and stared for a bit. “Are you mad at me?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “No?”

“Oh.” You turned back towards the door. “You were just being so quiet…I mean I heard you guys laughing…the lawyer lady, Shimizu. She was really pretty. She looked so professional..” You smiled half heartedly. “You looked good together.” You muttered. You frowned as you realized how ridiculous you sounded. “Anyway…” you turned towards the kitchen and started walking to the counter. “I made some pastries this morning. It’s not much, but we’ll also have to be quick because I forgot I promised Shoko I’d meet her early. So I only have time to change and then we probably need to head out. Sorry for rushing things.” you frowned again. “I should have told you to stop by earlier, but I got a little distracted.”

“Are you jealous?”

“M-me?” You felt your face grow red. “No-no I’m not- why would you- why would you think that?” you laughed awkwardly. “I was just saying she’s super pretty and I’d just never heard someone laugh with you like that before I mean other than me- but I mean I guess I don’t really know you-I mean I know you but not like I know you now- and she’s-I mean she’s super pretty you have to admit-“

“I wasn’t a fan of the way he asked for your name at the end of your conversation,” he said looking down at his wrist and fiddling with his watch. “I know that look he gave you… I’ve given you that look.”

You smiled and felt relief. “Seems like we’re on the same boat.” You shook your head and went over to him, looking up with a playful frown. “Was she really that funny?”

“She was the only one laughing, I don’t think anything I said was particularly interesting.”

You thought back at the way her eyes had turned from you to him and back to you. Oh I see, she had said. “She was into you,” you wrapped your arms around him. “I’ve done that before, laughed like an idiot at someone who’s not funny because I thought they were hot.”

“Have you done that with me?” He asked.

“No, you’re actually funny. It’s never forced with you.” You looked up at him again. “It’s your fault, you’re so handsome. We have to do something about your face.”

“Well then, what do you suggest we do about yours?”

“What do you mean?”

“He was quite taken with you.”

You made a face and shook your head. “Men will rant about their problems to you and then think they’re in love just because you listened.”

“Did he rant about his problems? His alcoholism? His brutishness? What was he thinking coming into someone’s apartment in that state? He’s lucky he didn’t-“

“He was having a rough time of it actually. I do feel a bit bad.” You turned back to look at the door and then the cat items. “He was my neighbor’s lawyer. They’re a young couple, the husband was arrested on some unfair charges and he seemed devastated by the outcome.”

“That’s not very professional.”

You shrugged. “I think it’s been a long time coming. Hopefully my pep talk keeps him back on track for a while longer, but I have a feeling he’s going to snap one day,” you said darkly. “There was something unhinged in his eyes.”

Nanami pulled you back and hugged you tightly again as you buried your face back into his chest. He smelled nice.

“Speaking of my neighbors. Do you like cats?”

“I don’t dislike them.” You nodded, backing out of his arms. “Why?”

“They left me in charge of their cat, Messi. Well not left me in charge, it’s more like they gave him to me. They left me all his stuff, he got out of their place yesterday before they left and somehow he always ends up at my place.”

“How does he get in?”

“Oh I guess I should show you around my apartment. Though there isn’t much to look at.” You ran a hand through your hair as you looked around. You pointed at where he was standing, next to the table. “Dining room, living room, kitchen, bathroom door, bedroom door, ta da!” You smiled cheekily as you pointed back where you started. “Bet that’s the fastest you’ve ever had a house tour, huh.” He looked around slowly, taking in the frames on the wall, the knick knacks on your shelves and the books piled all over the place, stacked not so neatly. “It’s- it’s really not much but it’s home,” you said feeling a little insecure again. Maybe you should have cleaned more.

“It’s lovely,” he said. “It feels very much like you.”

“Thanks…” you said. Your eyes went to the clock in your kitchen and you perked up. “Oh wow, is that the time…”

“May I see your bedroom?” He asked. You felt your face go red again.

“Oh, sure,” you started walking towards it. “I need to change anyway, hope you don’t mind.”

“Never.” You felt the blush grow and your stomach get tingly.

You opened the door and gestured briefly. “This is it, again it's not much... I think the bed is too big for this space, but it’s comfortable.” you went around to your closet pulling out a pair of black slacks and a white button down. You laughed to yourself. “That pink frosting was not coming off of my shirt. That’s two shirts you owe me, Kento.”

“I’ll have to make it up to you,” he said as he looked around the room. “What about this weekend? Are you free? I could take you shopping.”

You laughed again, “You’re like the main lead in a drama series. You’re too much, you know that?”

“Sorry?” He offered.

You smiled at him.“Thank you, but I’ll take a rain check on the shopping. I can get my own stuff. I’m hanging out with Akari on my half day, but Sunday I’ll be free,” you said as you buttoned your pants. “That is if you want to meet up on Sunday… if you’ve available.”

You turned to him and saw him blush this time. “Sunday…works.” You smiled victoriously as you walked over to him in just your bra. He stared at your face and you nodded briefly as if to give him permission to look. His eyes trailed down. “It’s a shame we have to hurry to campus. Are you sure Shoko can’t wait.”

“She’s doing me a favor by offering to teach me, I can’t do that to her,” you said. He placed his hands on your hips and pulled you forward. You looked up expectantly and he planted a soft kiss on your lips. You smiled.

You finished getting dressed and you felt his eyes never leave you as you moved around. He walked behind you out of the room and into the kitchen where you proudly showed him the bread you had made.

“This is a very secret recipe, I doubt you’ll ever have one as good as this.” He looked down at the bread and smiled fondly. He picked up one of the little buns and slowly bit into it. You watched his face carefully for a reaction. You saw his eyes water slightly as he savored the treat.

He smiled and nodded. “Good.”

You were a bit confused. “Yeah…you okay?” He seemed to be lost in thought. “Kento?”

He smiled again and blinked a few times. “Yes, sorry, it brought up some memories. This is very good, Y/N.”

You smiled, deciding to not push it. “I worked at a bakery for a short time.” You looked at the buns. “They're good but you should have tried the ones where I learned… I guess people are masters for a reason.” He nodded and continued to eat.

“Did you want coffee or-” Suddenly your phone rang. You pulled it out of your pocket and read the name, Shoko.

“Hello?” you answered.

“Hey, Y/N. I’ve been called out to do something so I won't be at the school this morning. Is there any way you could come in during your lunch?”

“I think that should work,” you said. Nanami looked at you curiously.

“Great, see you then.”

“Ooo~ is that Y/N?’ you heard Gojo’s voice in the background before she hung up.

You looked at your phone and then back up at Nanami. “So it looks like we have time after all, Shoko just rescheduled.” You sighed and leaned against the counter. “Sorry for rushing you before. Did you want some coffee or anything? I need a little pick me up.”

He shook his head, “Sit down, you’ve had a long morning. Do you mind if I make us some coffee?”

“I can make it for you, it's no problem-”

“I insist. It’s the least I can do,” he said with a smile. You smiled back and nodded.

“Fine, let me atleast get the ingredients out for you.”

“I’m sure I can find what I need,” he said, gesturing for you to go sit at the table.

You obliged and sat down with a happy sigh. You watched as he moved around the kitchen, looking for ingredients. The coffee, the sugar, etc. You smiled as he grumbled to himself as he searched for items and he would occasionally look over at you for some guidance. You pointed at your cup drawer and he looked over at you as he pulled out two mugs. He held one in his hand and read the text.

He frowned. “I used to work at this company,” he said.

“Ah, I got it as a freebie after signing up for their newsletter or something like that, I don't remember now.” You laughed, “I wonder if you were at that event. It must have been around the time you worked there. Before I had this apartment I used to rent one close to their headquarters, so I would walk by almost daily. We were so close and had no idea.”

Nanami smiled, bringing over two cups of coffee and the tray of bread. “I don’t think you would have liked me then.”

“What do you mean?” You took the warm cup from him.

He sighed as he sat, “I feel as if I was a soulless shell of a man focused on money”

“Was?” you teased.

He gave you a look, “Am I still?” You blew on your cup and smiled slyly. He smiled, “I guess I am still focused on money, but soulless?”

“Definitely not, I can tell by the way you made this coffee,” you said, taking a sip. He shook his head and looked down at his cup. He had taken the one with his old company logo.

“Would you have liked me?” He mumbled.

“Probably not, if I’m honest,” you said bluntly. You smiled, “I hate stiffs in suits and I don’t have much money so I doubt you’d have given me the time of day anyway.”

“Stiffs in suits? Isn’t that what I am now?”

“At least you’re helping people, now. That company always had a fishy vibe, there was always a tan blonde man in sunglasses who would try to pick me up with bad English phrases.” You scrunched your face. “Sound like someone you know?”

He laughed. “Unfortunately I know who you’re referring to.”

The two of you finished up your breakfast and Nanami offered to do the dishes while you tidied up. You wiped down your counters as he rinsed the cups. You moved on to the table.

Laying on the table were the two business cards the lawyer had handed you. You examined the sturdy ivory rectangle and the elegant gold lettering of the man’s business card. Hiromi Higuruma, it sounded like a name out of a tv show. You looked up and saw Nanami staring at the card in your hand with disdain. You smiled, laughing a bit at his expression.

“Here,” you reached out and handed him the card. “Hold on to this for me, you never know when I might need a lawyer.”

He begrudgingly took the card and scanned the writing, the scowl still on his face. “I’ll keep you out of trouble.” He tucked the card into his pocket.

“Did he really bother you that much?”

“Please, enough about him,” he said with a sigh.

“I kind of like that you’re jealous,” you teased. “Anyway, what are you so worried about?” You reached out and put a hand on his cheek. “I’m not going anywhere.” You felt his cheek grow warm as a blush came over his face.

Nanami looked down at his watch, he seemed to be calculating something in his head. “We have about thirty minutes until we have to leave right?”

“Yeah, why?”

He suddenly moved closer to you, putting his hand on either side of the table around your waist. “Should we make use of our morning?”He gave you a cocky smirk as he gently moved one of his hands under your chin, tilting your face upwards.

You felt your face burning now. “What can we even do in only half an hour”

He tilted his head as he thought. “Well we really only have twenty minutes, I would allow us another ten to compose ourselves.”

“Do you think that’s enough?” you asked, laughing.

He shrugged as he brought his face closer to yours. “We can make it work.” He closed the distance between you, delicately placing his lips on yours. He was so warm, so soft. You pulled him closer, placing your hand on the back of his head and lacing your fingers within his silky blonde locks. His lips moved softly against yours, his hand gently placed on your back as he settled himself between your legs. You pulled back for a second and looked up at him. His lips were glistening with your mixed saliva and face was flush. You smiled.

“Seeing as I haven’t really had the time to do laundry, and the fact that I’m down a couple of shirts, and that we have a record of being…messy. I propose we move this to my bedroom.”

He smiled and nodded. He placed another soft kiss on your lips before backing up to let you move forward away from the table.

“I’ll try to not let it become a habit.”

“What?”

“Ruining your shirts.”

“To be fair you only ruined two, the other one was that monster.” You shrugged, “Some things are just inevitable.” You turned towards him once you were in your room and started unbuttoning your shirt. “Should we set a timer?” you joked.

Nanami set his blazer aside and loosened his tie. “We can be quick about it. We made do in that bathroom.”

You felt your cheeks go red, “Oh my god,” you buried your face in your hands and sat on the bed. You heard him chuckle and you looked up. He placed a hand down onto your cheek and you smiled at him. He slowly lowered his face down towards you and kissed your forehead. He pushed you onto your back as he finished unbuttoning his shirt. You shifted your weight as you reached down to pull your pants down. You slipped them off of your legs and suddenly felt him grab your right ankle. He smiled coyly as he placed it up onto his shoulders, you felt your face go red as you looked at him. He held your leg firmly as he lazily unbuttoned his pants and shuffled them down to expose himself. You felt your heartbeat quicken as he moved forward and ran his cock over your underwear. He moved forward, placing his knees on the bed as he brought your legs up onto his thighs. He picked up your left leg and pressed it against his side as he moved forward to kiss you. You groaned as you felt your right thigh stretch against his chest. You moved one of your hands onto his shoulder and the other laced into his hair bringing him closer. Your tongues danced as you desperately kissed him. He continued to buck his hips, running his cock over your now soaked panties. He grunted at the friction and quickly moved back suddenly. You whimpered again as your leg moved back up with him. He let go of your left leg and moved it over opening your legs wide before him. He looked up at you, his pupils wide and his mouth wet with your spit. He swallowed hard as his eyes trailed down your body. “Y/N…I don’t know how to explain what you do to me…” He licked his lips as he thrust his hips forward against your clothed cunt. “I apologize in advance if I’m being too rough.” He looked back up at you. “Please let me know if I’m too rough..” He moved a hand down and pushed aside the wet fabric easily.

He pressed his tip lightly against your opening. You moved a hand forward and pressed it against his abdomen stopping him momentarily. “Kento…”

His head snapped up to meet your eyes. “Yes?”

There was a desperation in his gaze that made you feel a warmth in your chest. “It’s okay.” You moved your hand back and lifted your arms over your head. “Be rough with me, please…” you moaned and arched your back as you felt him dip a little deeper inside you.

Nanami quickly grabbed your other leg and pressed it back against you as he moved forward and buried himself deep inside of you. You let out a yelp, which was muffled by him devouring your lips. He pushed his hips roughly against you, desperately, quickly, as he held your legs further back. You were folded over yourself and you felt the head of his cock bully the deepest parts of you. You gasped everytime he pushed into you, becoming a mumbling mess under his touch. He slipped an arm behind you and brought you closer to him and you gasped at the change in position. He had you trapped in a mating press and all you could do was mutter incoherently. “Kento!” you cried, tears forming in your eyes from the pleasure. He moved his mouth from your lips and trailed sloppy kisses down to your jaw and into your neck. You felt him bite your skin gently before latching onto the side of your neck. He was going to leave a mark, you were sure. You moved your arms forward and hugged his large torso towering over you. He wasn’t slowing down and you were reaching your limit. You dug your nails into his back and you heard him hiss as he released your neck. He smiled snarkily before moving to the other side of your neck and biting down on it. You dragged your nails along his back again and he bit down harder. You cried out as he desperately moved his hips with more force, his knees slipping and forcing him deeper as he temporarily let his weight drop on you for an instant. You moaned loudly and clenched your entire body as you came. He grunted into your ear as he thrust his hips one more time before releasing with a roar.

You were both breathing heavily as he stayed inside of you for a while longer, twitching against your contracting walls. He kissed your face gently as he tried to catch his breath and you smiled, closing your eyes and enjoying the feeling. After some time he finally moved back, releasing your legs which had been trapped between the two of you. He took a moment to massage your thighs in his hands. You hummed in appreciation.

You felt him move back and pull out of you. You winced as you felt warm liquid ooze out of you. You pointed to your bedside table and he quickly fetched a handkerchief to clean you up.

“I might have gotten carried away again.”

You laughed and sat up sorely. “It's only 8 am.” You mumbled. He smiled at you and you saw his eyes trail to your neck. You put a hand over the spots he had leeched on to. He smiled satisfied as he made his way off the bed.

“I’m going to take a quick shower…would you like to join me?” You nodded and scooted off of the bed. You looked at him as he turned his back towards you and winced. He turned to look. “What? Is something wrong?”

“Your back,” you said with a frown. “I didn’t realize how hard I was scratching.”

He peeked over his shoulder at the sharp red lines. “Nothing you can’t fix,” he said. He went over to you and scooped you up in his arms.

After your quick shower together you went back into your bedroom to get dressed. You looked in the mirror at your body. He had left a mark at the base of your neck, just low enough to be covered by the collar of your shirt. You looked at his reflection in the mirror and saw he was staring with a smile on his face. “I might have been caught up in the moment, but I made sure I was careful.”

You smiled back and looked at the mark again. You looked back up at him. “This…this doesn’t have anything to do with you being jealous does it?”

He blinked and you saw his eyebrows furrow slightly. “No,” he huffed, fiddling with the cuffs of his sleeve.. “Why would you- No, I’m not-”

You laughed. “Sorry, I had to tease. I love when you get flustered.”

He sighed and came up behind you, leaning down to rest his chin on your shoulder. “Do you have the lady lawyer’s card? What was her name? Shimizu? I think I should hold on to her card as well.”

You frowned and leaned your head into his. “I knew it. You’re leaving me for her.”

He laughed and wrapped his arms around you bringing you closer to him. He buried his face into your neck and took a deep breath. He pressed a kiss into your shoulder before moving up to kiss your cheek. “We should get going.”

You turned to look at him. “Okay.” He took your hands and lifted them to his lips to give them a gentle kiss.

“Make sure Shoko doesn’t go too far, she has a habit of getting carried away…”

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

pt 1. pt 2. pt 3. pt 4. pt 5.

˚₊✩‧₊thank you for reading my way too overly complicated fic, i have so much planned and its all really self indulgent but I'm glad I can share it with other nanami lovers. i'll try to be better about posting the next part without a three month ghosting period, but in my defense the end of 2024 was out to get me....anyway much love to you all and as always if you saw a typo, no you didn't -Nana

˚₊✩‧₊ taglist: @wrldtups @rjreins @phattyboo90 @tnyblacklesbo @silkija @justwantedachange @inthedarkshadows000 @nniiyyaa @starkmila09 @sikuthealien @wifenanami @bloombb @kentos-glasses @inciteterr0r @naturalismi @kimkimoruo @thatvintagefanboy @lavenderdaydream97

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nadvs · 4 months ago

Text

push and pull (part one)

pairing twin!rafe x female reader x twin!zach

summary life felt complicated enough when you started falling for zach. then you meet rafe. he’s the complete opposite of his twin brother, but he captures your attention just the same.

author’s note finally wrote the zach/rafe twin au!! i won’t be making this a series but it was so fun to write as a one-shot (that had to turn into a two-shot because i ran out of post space lol)

tags college au set in the obx universe. mutual pining. angst. love triangle. miscommunication. no smut. rafe endgame (s2 bangs supremacy) (sorry to my zach girlies)

content warnings alcohol use, mental illness, mentions of parental abandonment

» intro post

» masterlist

Everyone can tell the Cameron twins apart by their hair.

Zach’s is short and unkept, always looking like he just ran off the soccer field, while Rafe keeps his a little longer, soft strands hanging over his forehead, every edge neat and clean.

From the moment you first see them together, you can tell that the two couldn’t be more different. And you don’t need to rely on any tricks like looking at their hair to know who’s who.

It’s their eyes that give them away. While they’re the same captivating shade of blue, Zach has a sense of hope in his eyes that Rafe doesn’t.

────୨ৎ────

Your father has been coaching your college’s men’s soccer team for most of his career. When the directors of the athletic department kept pestering him about the team needing a social media presence for the school’s PR, he asked you if you’d be interested.

As a freshman, the part-time job seemed like a fun way to get to know people, so you accepted the position and made a TikTok account for the team.

Since the start of the season, of all the soccer players, Zach has been the most welcoming. He goes along with whatever you need for work, humoring you when you hold up your phone and ask him trending questions for videos, like what his lockscreen is or what superstitions he follows before a game.

As time went on, you felt yourself gravitating more and more towards him, watching him in awe whenever you came by the field during practices and games.

Eventually, he started inviting you to the close-knit team’s hangouts. You quickly and seamlessly joined the friend group within a few weeks.

Before you knew it, you had a serious crush on him. He’s handsome and funny and a total sweetheart. What makes it so complicated is that you can’t read him at all.

He’s nice to you, but he’s nice to everyone. Maybe your feelings are unrequited, but you hold onto hope that he looks at you the same way you look at him.

It’s a Friday night when you visit Zach’s place for the first time. You’re sitting in the living room with a few of his teammates and their girlfriends, your empty takeout containers scattered over the coffee table, the sound of the autumn wind rushing past the windows reduced to a whisper beneath your loud conversation.

Zach had already told you he had a twin brother that he lived with in a loft off-campus, but when you rest your eyes on Rafe for the first time as he comes through the front door, it’s surprisingly jarring to see someone identical to Zach.

The chatter continues around you as you watch Rafe toss his keys onto the end table, drop a duffle bag, and silently walk into the open-concept kitchen. He swings open the fridge, keeping his head down.

His hair is damp, sweat glistening on his skin. His shirt is plastered to his torso, the planes of his muscles angular and sharp, not leaving much to the imagination.

“You haven’t met my less handsome brother yet,” Zach jokes to you. He points to Rafe, then to you, introducing you to each other.

“Hi,” you say kindly.

When Rafe meets your gaze, he stills for a moment, eyes almost imperceptibly widening. A couple seconds of silence pass.

“Hey,” he finally offers with a quick, tense nod.

“How was your workout?” Zach asks.

Rafe pulls a protein shake out of the fridge and swings the door closed.

“It’s so fucking busy in that gym,” Rafe replies, stepping away. He turns the corner and paces up the stairs towards his bedroom.

He and his brother have always lived in different worlds. They host parties sometimes, but that’s usually as close as their social circles overlap.

Right now, though, it’s like his aching muscles are willing him to turn around and keep talking to the pretty girl sitting in his living room. But while he’s never been good at ignoring his impulses, he’s not about to flirt with his brother’s guest, knowing how much it bothers him.

Before Rafe reaches his bedroom to get ready for a shower, he hears Zach come upstairs to stop him in the hallway.

“I’ll make sure they’re out by nine,” he says quietly. “That cool?”

Zach has always enjoyed having people over and surrounding himself with friends. But he’s aware of how much it annoys his moody brother when he just wants to chill at home. Despite how much Rafe parties and hooks up, when he wants quiet, he wants quiet.

Because Zach naturally wants to keep the peace, when they moved out of Tannyhill, he set ground rules. One of them is that they’ll check in with each other to make sure they don’t let guests overstay.

Rafe looks at his watch to see it’s nearly eight and says, “Sure. Whatever. I’m having a girl over later anyway.”

As soon as Zach left the living room, you heard one of the other soccer players, Chance, quietly make a joke about how that was the most words he’s ever heard Rafe say.

It makes Rafe all the more intriguing to you. Everyone here has some sort of history with him, albeit small and meaningless. But you’re still fairly new to the friend group. You know nothing about Rafe. For some reason, you want that to change.

Zach’s eyes meet yours when he comes back into the living room.

“Still a warm and fuzzy guy, isn’t he?” Chance says.

“Like always,” Zach quips with a shrug. And that’s that. Nobody brings up Rafe for the rest of the night.

When the hangout comes to an end about an hour later, Zach trails you all out through the front door. You bump into a girl you recognize from one of your classes.

“Hey,” she says. “I know you.”

“Hi,” you say with a laugh, holding the door open for her when you realize she’s coming into the loft.

Rafe appears behind Zach and by the way his eyes hungrily travel down her body, you quickly surmise she’s here for him.

And for some reason, it stings that she’s physically the complete opposite of you. If that’s Rafe’s type, you definitely don’t measure up.

You’re not sure why your mind is running away from you so fast. Why do you care about Rafe’s type? It’s his brother you’ve been pining over for the last month.

“How’d you do on that quiz?” she asks you.

“The grades are already up?” you reply.

“On time for once,” she laughs.

“Let’s go,” Rafe mumbles to her, his hand finding the small of her back.

You know it isn’t personal. He clearly just wants to hang out with her, not entertain any small talk. But the way he’s acting like you’re not even in the room hurts.

You say bye to Zach one last time before you follow your friends down the hallway towards the elevator. Your shoes are padding over the tiles when you hear your name half-whispered.

Zach stands with a foot out his door, beckoning you. Butterflies swirl in your stomach as you scurry back to close the distance between you. You look up at his warm eyes expectantly.

“Sorry. Don’t take it personally,” he murmurs with a gentle smile. “Rafe’s like that with everyone.”

You’re sure he’s not like that with the girl he just led upstairs. But you don’t know why you even care that much.

Zach’s the one you like. Obviously if you find him attractive, you’ll find his twin brother attractive, too. You figure your brain is just getting used to it.

You return his smile, appreciative. Stuff like this is why you like him; he cares enough to try to comfort you after his brother brushed you off.

“It’s okay,” you reply. Your friends call your name, urging you to get to the elevator before the doors close. “Thanks. I’ll see you.”

Zach watches you rush away, hoping he managed to make you feel better. He loves his brother. He understands why he is the way he is. But he doesn’t like that he made a girl who was nothing but nice to him feel bad.

As he tidies up the mess in the living room, thinking about how sweetly you had offered to help clear the table, Zach realizes that he enjoys not having housekeepers.

He never liked watching people have to clean up after him. Getting used to cleaning took some time after he and Rafe settled in here when the school year began, but now, it feels good.

Moving out was the best thing they could’ve done. Even though Zach’s only minutes older, he always felt protective of his brother, and being at home with their dad and stepmom just messed with Rafe, bringing out his self-destructive tendencies.

About an hour later, Zach’s doing schoolwork at the kitchen island when he hears the front door shut. He’s used to his brother’s habits, having random girls over, never letting them spend the night.

“She’s new,” Zach says when Rafe saunters into the kitchen.

“Yeah,” Rafe says, ducking into the fridge. “Do we have any food?”

“I saved some takeout for you.” Zach points to the container by the oven.

“Sweet.”

“What’s she like?” Zach asks.

Rafe shrugs. Thankfully, his hook-up wasn’t interested in getting to know him, either. She just wanted to be physical. Losing himself in the feeling of a girl’s legs wrapped around him, melting into emotionless pleasure, shutting his mind up, is Rafe’s comfort zone.

“She’s cool,” he mumbles. “It’s nothing serious.”

Zach watches his brother pick at his dinner at the counter, not bothering to sit down.

He never understood how he could have these meaningless hook-ups. Zach can’t imagine sharing a bed with a girl he has no connection with. Or never talking to her again after.

He shuts his laptop, pinching the bridge of his nose before he speaks.

“Hey, you think you could be a little nicer to my guests?” he asks. Rafe tenses up.

“This again?” It isn’t the first time Zach is giving him shit for how he talks to his friends.

“It makes them feel unwelcome when you act like that,” Zach replies. Rafe’s temper flares.

“Did they tell you that?” he snips.

“They don’t have to. Just… be decent, okay?”

“I am. You care too much about what people think,” Rafe mutters.

“Maybe you don’t care enough.” Zach’s lips firm into a thin line. “I don’t want to have to apologize for you.”

“Oh, come on,” he chuckles. “Who’d you have to apologize to? For what?”

Zach mentions your name and how sad you looked as you were leaving. Rafe sighs, but a hint of anxiety pricks at his skin. This happens a lot. He thinks things are fine, and then he finds out later that apparently, he was rude.

“I hope you’re at least nicer to the girls you bring over,” Zach says.

“Not every girl wants a nice guy,” he jokes with a snort. “Can we skip the lecture?”

“Dude,” he sighs in exasperation.

Rafe rolls his eyes. Zach never got that Rafe doesn’t have the ability to read people all that well, that he doesn’t know when he’s expected to tiptoe around feelings. Rafe wishes everyone was just upfront like he is.

Despite the frustration rolling through his body, he hates to lose his temper on his brother. He always regrets it after if he does. So, he relents.

“Fine. I’ll be nicer,” Rafe sighs. He thinks back to the way you looked sitting in the living room earlier tonight, your voice sweet, your smile pretty.

“She’s cute,” Rafe mumbles. “New girlfriend?”

He wonders if Rafe’s mocking him. Or maybe Zach’s just being overly sensitive. His younger brother has teased him in the past for how he’s hardly ever single for very long.

Zach does prefer to be in a relationship, to live in a promise of commitment with someone who wants to love him. But is that so bad?

They deal with their trauma in different ways. Zach runs towards comfort and connection, while Rafe would rather die than be vulnerable with a girl.

Zach would never say it, but he believes he copes much better than Rafe does. But then again, Zach is pretty sure Rafe has mental health issues that he refuses to acknowledge.

“Just a friend. Her dad’s my coach,” Zach replies flatly. “She does social media for the team. She’s off limits.”

“Off limits?” Rafe echoes. “Why? You like her?”

“No,” Zach lies on impulse. It’s not just his brother he considers you off limits to. He can’t pursue you, either. Although he wants to.

But if he admits to not wanting to date the coach’s daughter because it could end badly and leave things awkward for everybody, Rafe’ll whine about how stupid it is to be living life like that, always afraid to upset people.

They’ve had this exact conversation so many times. Zach would say that it’s not stupid to be considerate. Rafe would tell him to be selfish for once. And they’d get nowhere.

“I already told you that you can’t hook up with my friends,” Zach states.

Rafe sighs. He’s done it in the past, had flings with girls Zach befriends, then caught shit for not calling back, even though he’s always clear that he’s not looking for a relationship. Zach hates losing friends as a result of Rafe’s impulses.

“I know,” he finally says. “Relax.”

It frustrates Zach how much his brother acts like he’s high-strung. In reality, he is relaxed. Among his friends, he has a reputation for being chill and fun.

But with Rafe, he has to play this role. He’s had to since they were kids.

Zach stands, taking his laptop with him as he paces towards his bedroom. It’d be nice to talk to his brother about how much he likes you, about how excited he gets when he sees you coming to talk to him, even when it’s just to film a video.

It’s not like he can tell any of the guys on his team. As close as he is with them, he’s sure it’d spread and get back to you.

Rafe’s the only person he’d gush to, but he’d rather not listen to him whine about how Zach needs to stop giving a fuck about consequences. Because that’s who Rafe is.

“Night,” Zach says curtly.

“Hey, I’m sorry, alright? I don’t try to be a dick,” Rafe says. “You don’t want any more of this?”

Zach looks at the food.

“I’m good.”

It’s another lie. He still has an appetite, but he’d rather let someone else eat if they’re hungry. Because that’s who Zach is.

────୨ৎ────

“Whoa,” you say, scrolling through your notifications.

“What’s up?” Zach asks, leaning closer to you.

You’re sitting in a loud and overcrowded on-campus bar with your friends. It’s been a few days since you hung out at Zach’s, being pulled out of the conversation from your phone buzzing incessantly.

Zach’s chin is almost touching your shoulder as you drag your thumb over your phone screen. He smells like soap and warmth, making your heart race.

“This one video randomly blew up,” you say. “From like, two weeks ago. It has almost ten thousand likes.”

“Which one?” Chance asks, sitting across the table from you.

“The one where I asked you guys what’s on your lockscreens,” you tell them. “I’ll send the link.”

Your friends gaze at their phones around the table after you share the video in the group chat, but Zach stays in his spot, preferring to watch over your shoulder, closer than he’s ever been to you.

It’s stuff like this that makes you think he’s crushing on you, too.

“Well, that’s good, right?” Zach offers. “Makes you look good if you get us viral.”

You breathe a chuckle as you read through the comments.

“I don’t know,” you say. “You’re all kind of getting objectified.”

“What?” Kacey, Chance’s girlfriend half-shouts.

“Oh, that explains why I’m getting all these random follow requests,” Chance laughs. He looks at his girlfriend. “I’m not accepting them. Don’t worry.”

“Sunrise guy is so pure,” Roy, the goalie, reads a comment aloud in a teasing tone. “102 likes. Jesus.”

“Am I sunrise guy?” Zach mumbles to you.

You smirk, finally turning your head to meet his eyes. In the video, Zach said his lockscreen was ‘a cool picture he took of a sunrise.’

“I think you are,” you reply. Admittedly, he looked adorable in the video, just coming out of the locker room after a game, his hair messy and his skin flushed.

“Pure,” he repeats, his lips twisting. “Is that good?”

“I’d say it’s good,” you shrug.

“Sunrise guy is fine as hell,” Roy reads, laughing. “And there’s a whole thread under trying to find your Instagram.”

You swear you notice Zach blush as he shuffles to take his phone out of his pocket.

“What are they saying about you, huh, Roy?” Zach teases. “Share with the class.”

“Nobody’s saying shit about Roy,” Chance laughs, scrolling.

“Shut up,” Roy says, punching Chance’s shoulder.

Your stomach twists with unease when you see Zach open Instagram, the red message bubble mocking you.

Sure enough, a few girls dm’d him. He opens a message from a girl with a pretty profile photo.

Hiiii :) please don’t think I’m a stalker lol I just saw you on tiktok and I’m wondering how I haven’t seen you around campus?

You look away, feeling guilty for snooping. It’s a girl who goes to the same college. A girl he could very easily meet and date.

He’s not your boyfriend. You have to remind yourself that he owes you nothing. But jealousy doesn’t care if you’ve claimed someone as yours or not. It still finds a way to seep in.

You shift in your seat, pretending to continue to read comments while your heart squeezes in a vice.

────୨ৎ────

The next weekend, Zach and Rafe are hosting a party. As you get ready, you put extra time into getting pretty. You wonder if you haven’t been obvious enough.

You’ve been flirting with Zach like always, but he might think you’re just being nice, so if the air feels right tonight, you’ll try to make it more clear that you’re interested.

You arrive at the loft, trying to act unfazed when Zach pulls you in for a quick hug. He does it with everyone, though, so you’re not sure if you’re special to him at all.

Rafe notices you walk in. He’s standing just outside the kitchen, a cold beer bottle in his hand. You’re even prettier than he remembers.

Zach leads you to the kitchen where drinks are laid out on the counter, then quickly gets pulled away by the doorbell ringing again.

You pace into the bright space, gazing over the ridiculously large array of alcohol. Ever since you saw the size of this place, you’ve wondered if Zach comes from a wealthy family.

Regular college students couldn’t afford a home like this. And they wouldn’t so generously buy all the many drinks scattered atop the counter.

You meet sharp blue eyes. Rafe raises his beer bottle slightly in greeting. You offer a smile in return, your body numbing.

You notice yet another difference between them. Zach dresses like most other guys on campus, while Rafe is in a crisp button-up, a small logo stitched on the front. You know that brand isn’t cheap. Neither is his watch.

They must be well off. Zach doesn’t seem to want to show it. Rafe does.

You find a drink you can stomach, picking up the cold glass bottle and looking around for an opener.

“Apparently, I was rude to you the other day?” Rafe’s voice cuts over the music.

You look up to see him stepping a bit closer, putting his beer down on the marble with a clack and gripping a metallic bottle opener. You take his silent invitation, handing him your drink.

“You weren’t not rude,” you reply.

Rafe’s dimples cave into his cheeks when he chuckles, looking down, popping the lid off with ease. He likes that you call him out on it, instead of appeasing him.

“My bad.” His voice is husky, his words said with a drawl. He hands your drink back to you. “Zach’s always giving me shit about my manners.”

“He’s right to,” you joke.

You take a small sip from the bottle, your face pinching with a hint of distaste, and Rafe finds it ridiculously cute.

“Don’t like it?” he asks, eyes glinting.

“Just a little bitter,” you admit. You look out at the crowd, some faces familiar, some faces not.

You’re not close enough to the girl in your class, the one you saw Rafe with, to have asked her what their deal is. The curiosity has oddly been gnawing at you.

It’d be weird to mention it to her. Or to him. But you do notice that she’s not here. You take another drag from the bottle, tapping your nails against the counter to the familiar song.

Rafe can’t tear his eyes off of you, noticing the way you’re slightly mouthing the lyrics. If he wasn’t this close, he wouldn’t be able to tell.

“You know this song?” Rafe asks.

“You do, too?” you say, looking up at him again as he towers over you.

“It’s my playlist.”

“Oh,” you laugh, surprised that you have something in common with him, that you both like this fairly unknown artist. “Yeah. This whole album is good.”

Rafe nods. You try not to stare. He has a magnetizing pull that you can’t really make sense of. There’s something so naturally dominating about him, like he’s silently demanding your attention.

The night Zach mentioned your job, Rafe looked through the account you run for his soccer team. Truthfully, he wished you were in the videos instead of behind the camera, but at least he could hear your voice.

You intrigue him. There’s no way to ignore it. His brother doesn’t want him hooking up with his friends, but what’s the harm in talking?

“So, you do TikTok stuff for my brother’s team?” Rafe asks. Zach has obviously talked about you to him. You wonder what else he said.

“My job description technically says ‘content creation’,” you reply. “But I guess ‘TikTok stuff’ works.”

Rafe can’t stifle his smile. He thinks Zach’s an idiot not to like you.

Maybe he’s lying. But it’s unlike him to lie when it comes to girls. He always wears his heart on his sleeve, so much so that it confuses Rafe why, after growing up around so much instability, he’s still so open to being hurt.

“You’re not into soccer?” you ask. He shakes his head no. “Do you play something else?”

“Nah,” Rafe says. “I golf sometimes, but that’s it.”

You can’t help but breathe a chuckle. Of course a rich guy like him would play golf of all sports.

“What?” he asks.

“Nothing,” you say.

“What’s funny?” he teases, his stare penetrating.

You have to look away, heat flushing through you. Everything about him, about his appeal, is overwhelming.

“Come on,” he beckons, teasing.

“I was going to say that I’m not surprised.” Your eyes dart down to the small logo on his shirt. “You would play golf.”

Rafe’s amused. Zach never liked making it obvious that they come from money because he says it’s in ‘bad taste.’ It’s another thing about his brother that never made sense to Rafe.

“Really? Who’s being rude now?” he asks.

You look up at him with doe eyes. Right now, it’s really hard for Rafe to give a fuck about you being off limits.

“Still you,” you reply. He laughs.

It’s a surprise, the way Rafe’s not as cold as you first thought. He has a guard up and he doesn’t smile much, but he has his own type of charm.

You continue to chat with him about music and school and even your dad being the soccer coach. Zach must have mentioned that, too.

Thankfully, you’re not quite drunk yet, because if you were, you might ask him what else Zach has said about you, and that could be a giveaway of your feelings for him. And if you show interest in Zach, that would probably kill your chances with Rafe.

Uncomfortable realization pools your senses. While these men are complete contradictions of each other, unalike in so many ways, you like them. Both of them. Shit.

You down the tiny bit left of your drink, a sign of just how long you’ve been standing here talking to Rafe. Time with him has a way of slipping.

You gaze out at the party again, noticing that the living room has gotten much more crowded. And then you see Zach, sitting on the couch, beaming brightly as he talks to a girl.

Rafe catches the way your face falls. When he sees your eyes on his brother, he’s sure of it. You like him. And here you are, making conversation with him while you’re pining over Zach.

He thought you were having fun together. He felt a spark. The sting of rejection tears into him. His gut reaction is to be spiteful. To say you should just go talk to Zach if he’s boring you. Or to really make it hurt, to tell you Zach said he doesn’t like you like that.

Truthfully, as much as he loves Zach, he’s always been a little jealous of him. Everything just seems so easy for him, while every minute of Rafe’s life feels like a fight he’s losing.

Instead of hurting you, he swallows down his words with a swig of beer. Maybe all of Zach’s scolding for his lack of manners is finally working.

“Enjoy the party, yeah?” Rafe says to you. He steps away before you can reply.

Later on, you’re chatting with Kacey when you feel rhythmic buzzes in your pocket. You pull your phone out to see Zach’s name on your screen.

“Hello?” you answer.

“Finally,” he laughs. “Can you open the front door for me? I got locked out.”

A moment later, you meet Zach on the first floor, wishing your heart didn’t skip the way it does when he smiles at you through the glass door.

“I’m an idiot,” he says once you let him in. “I forgot my keys. Thanks.”

“Sure,” you laugh.

“You know, you’re the fourth person I called.” Zach puts an arm around your shoulders as you walk through the lobby. He’s never touched you like this and it’s comforting, but then again, everything about Zach is comforting. “Nobody else answered.”

By the way he’s being more affectionate than usual and slurring his words, you can tell he’s drunk.

“Why were you outside?” you ask.

“I walked someone down,” he answers. “Actually, a girl I met because of that video you posted.”

Likely the girl you saw messaging him just a few nights ago. He must have replied and liked her so much that he invited her tonight. Your heart aches.

“How’d it go?” you ask, feigning indifference.

“Good,” Zach replies. “I think she had fun.”

Of course he answers selflessly, more concerned about what she thought of him. You enter the elevator and he parts from you, pressing the button.

“Was Rafe being nice?” he asks. He obviously noticed you talking to his brother.

“He was actually telling me to leave,” you reply. Zach’s eyes widen and you laugh. “Wow, you’re gullible. I’m kidding. Yes, he was nice.”

He did leave your conversation pretty abruptly, but you’d rather not tell Zach in case he feels the need to apologize for his brother’s behavior again.

“Okay. Good.” Zach looks up at the changing numbers on the screen, smiling proudly as he leans back against the elevator wall.

His younger brother can be brash and reckless, but Zach knows it’s all because his feelings overwhelm him. He sees right through Rafe’s attempts to hide it from everyone, including himself.

Everyone thinks Zach is the emotional one. He isn’t. He doesn’t even come close to how sensitive and unstable Rafe can be.

“He’s a good guy,” he says. “I love him to death. We’ve been through a lot together and when our mom left, he…”

You look over at Zach’s profile, his lips curved into a frown.

“He took it hard and I don’t think he ever really got over any of it,” he finishes his sentence.

His inhibitions have clearly been silenced by alcohol, and you’d ask for more information if it didn’t feel like you were taking advantage of his drunken state.

The elevator dings. The doors slide open. Rafe’s standing in the hallway, holding his phone, having just caught up with Zach’s missed notifications.

“Where were you?” Zach says, mocking offense. “Do you even care that I was left out in the cold? You know I don’t like being alone.”

“Alright, come on,” Rafe says, shaking his head in disapproval as he pulls Zach forward by the shoulder. He meets your eyes for a second. “How much did you drink?”

“Relax,” Zach says, then laughs. “Wow. For once, I’m telling you that.”

The three of you walk down the hallway towards the loft. Your arms are crossed, still confused about your feelings for Rafe, still hurt that Zach doesn’t see anything worth pursuing in you.

“I love you, you know?” Zach mumbles to his brother. “I was just saying how much we’ve been through and how much I love you.”

Rafe’s body goes cold. He glares at you.

“What did he say?” he asks you, tense.

“I could barely understand him,” you fib. You don’t want to embarrass either one of them.

“You’re not gonna say you love me back?” Zach says to Rafe.

“Dude,” Rafe scoffs. “You cannot hold your booze. You’re going to bed.”

“Never,” Zach murmurs.

After everything that’s happened tonight, you feel too disoriented to be able to laugh.

(part two)

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron and you #rafe cameron and reader #rafe cameron and y/n #zach maclaren and reader #zach maclaren and you #zach maclaren and y/n #zach maclaren x y/n #zach maclaren x you #zach maclaren x reader

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tonix3 · 24 days ago

Text

Larry 2024

(my recap of the most important moments plus a few comments here & there - for clothing stuff & everything music related I made separate categories & I tried to make the connections between some stuff obvious & also I included some of the things their familys/team/inner circle has done when I found it to be important/interesting - sources at the end)

Explanation: cursive = for other people,

{} = my thoughts/comments

January

- H is in Anguilla + pap shots on yacht (with Louis Shirt) + pics with stunt TR -> pap pic release 04.01.

- 06.01. Hs Mum on IG story writes on her pics 'This too shall pass..' + 'Force the smile take the photo ... Remind yourself you're ok'

- 06.01. Mirror posts article saying L and Eleanor are getting close again - Es actual boyfriend posts hot swimwear pic with her {lol}

- no mention of Fs birthday 21.01.

- 23.01. L tweets/answers his favorite snack is Chicken (and an ask about Fs bday 'it was lovely')

February

- H&L listed as partners on Google for the 3rd time

- 18.02 H doesn't attend TR stunts important event to watch football & it's a whole talk online about it

March

- 10.03. L likes post about Lime Bikes {LOL}

- 11.03 Lou Teasdale posts on IG story a meme of Ls Beatbox/Horsenoise Buzzcut interview {LOL LOL LOL}

- 17.03. Liam replies with heart to a comment on IG from @LarryStylinson_favtweets

- 19.03. L is in London with friends at John Mayer concert + H sighted at a flight to London

20.03. H (in L) papped with James Cordon/L MIA

21.03. L (in L) at sisters birthday party/H MIA

22.-25. both MIA

26./27. H in London (pap pics)

{-> TIME TOGETHER?! Pattern of one of them popping up while the other one goes MIA}

April

- 08.04. L non-denial interview using Total eclipse of the heart lyrics posted on Eclipse day -> Larry trends again, everyone falls down the Larry rabbithole, every news outlet reports about it {he also mentions for the first time in a denial that people are being unfair to his son F - OK}

- 10.04 Shania Twain posts TB from Hs Still The One (+ Anne reposts in her IG story)

- 10.04 Jack Whitehall (friend of H) posts a Tiktok in a teens room with H&L posters and says it 'looks like his bedroom at home'

- 10.04. Pleasing ad with white, orange, blue, green nails -> 'simple but effective' caption {baby boyfriends}

- 28.04. Anne on her IG story pic 'Kindness is my go to but fuck off is my wingman' {on the 28th how funny 😆}

May

- 13.05 Mark Tomlinson posts a pic 'My grandchildren' without F

- 15.05 Phoebe IG Story Chicken meal 'such a simple but effective meal' {OK GIRL WE SEE YOU}

- 19.05. after Tayrry BU articles drop Anne posts IG story pics with 'saturday night toast', 'off to the cinema' & happy sunday + H's photographer post champagne bottle in pool + Helen Seamons posts champagne & strawberries + Phoebe posts bathtub pic with 'End to a perfect sunday'

- 27.05 Anne on Podcast says 'my kid was happy as Larry' {what??? even if it's a saying in the UK}

June

- 11.06. Steve Aoki IG story selfie with streetmarket Art of queer legends/famous people H&L next to ea + tags L in the story

- 16.06 Daisy includes L in father's day collage + L posts about England & Jude Bellingham not even liking the post of Daisy

July

- 14.07 final of the euros in Berlin - both H&L attend -> pic with Ed, Lou & most likely H in the background photographed within reaching distance in the same room! For the first time in years! (+ Tumblr anon seeing them in VIP area talking about them meeting up, talking & splitting a few times!) -> media & fandom goes crazy {personally I find the pic of them a bit underwhelming because it's debatable if it's H}

August

- 03.08 L signs a fans midnight memories CD at a M&G on Harry {possessive much? Lol}

- 04.08 Charlie LeClerc (F1 driver) follows H on IG

- 09.08 in Lotties Book she talks about Lucky being her moms only grandchild wishing she could have met him (-> fandom & media goes nuts over excluding F/'confirming' F isn't a grandchild)

+ media article Lottie wrote herself confirms her wording

- Poster shows Homes Chapel 'Pride Street Party' is on 28 Sep🌈

- 28.08. 28clothing posts socks with 28 and a hand showing a rose ring on IG story

- 28.08 Team Ferrari posts Tiktok of Charles LeClerc with Harry's XFactor Audio 'I work in a bakery. I like .. serve'

- 29.08 L follows Charles LeClerc on IG {the following day of the Tiktok? LOL}

- 30.08 F1 makes Out Of My System Song of the weekend on their official Playlist

- 31.08 L attends F1 Grand Prix in Monza Italy & is photographed at Team Ferraris suite + commentator referred to L being in a band with H and mentions not being allowed to talk about Ls boyfriend {What the actual f#ck}

September

- 01.09. Charles LeClerc follows L on IG

- 01.09 L takes official pics with Author Tara Ramos whose book is named 'F1 Behind Closed Doors: Clown of the circus' {While smiling like a madman OK LOU}

- 17.09 Pleasing ad (with @elisasudara) same girl L was pictured in fanpic on beach in Spain {Wtf?}

October

- 12.10 Mark Tomlinson posts he misses Lucky and Olive no F

- 16.10 💔🕊️

- 27.10 Daisy includes F in a collage of Lucky's and Olives Halloweens

- 31.10. Mark Tomlinson posts only Lucky and Olive Trick or treating no F

November

- 01.11. Gemma posts a pic to her IG story with Lous 'It is what it is' (in the same font)

- 13.11. Harry Lambert/Helen Seamons (H stylist/L stylist) post the same Manet Shirt on IG storys

- 20.11 funeral ☁️ all boys attend, arrive separately & manage not being photographed together

December

- 05.12. Pleasing collab announcement ft. dick key chains (inverted colors are blue and green)

- H Fine Line anniversary video includes 3 clips of Harry's Kiwi performances (associated with bbg) Kiwi being a song on HS1 not fine line {🤔}

- 27.12. L in the background of Phoebes Snapchat

- 28.12. Daisy posts a pic from a bowling alley to her Snapchat including the name Freddi (people speculate if her and Phoebe babysit F because L isn't on the list of names) {is it even F? Where are the twins bowling - London? Doncaster?}

- 28.12. L is photographed + video in Doncaster restaurant/bar with different fans at least 5 times

~Clothing stuff 2024~

~ 03.01. H wears 'Louis' (Bode) Shirt in Anguilla

~ 25.01. H papped with LT Jacket and Tennis hat + 27.01. L attends Tennis event as a guest of queer friendly brand Piper Hideseick Champagne {supportive husbandsss}

~ L Melbourne Merch is babyblue advertised with pink background then merch color changes to green for BNE, SYD is pink & displayed on babyblue background {Fine Line is associated with pink&blue - supportive husbandsss 2.0}

(~ 02.02 L wears orange shirt with laurels to SYD FitF)

~ 29.02 L wears Boyfriend Jacket 🫶🏻 at F1 event and concert

~ 20.03 H & James Cordon pap pics - blue greening with their sneakers (+ H carries flower on 'national flower day')

~ 21.03 L wears Jeans Jacket with big lettering to Twins Birthday Party -> 'you can tell me what to do, I just probably won't do it' {so sassy Lou, love it}

(- 03.04. L wears Burberry Laurels Shirt)

~ 06.04. L says in interview 'Clothes tell his story'

~ 11.04. - (first sighting of) H (after Ls non denial) he wears a dark blue shirt with a little L 💙

~ 02.05. L wears Tanktop from gay brand BDXY called 'The Stunt'

~ 04.05 H Umbro shirt over a hoodie being papped on a lime bike in London (wearing Sneakers called Halo - coincidentally like the Shipname Halo which came before Larry Stylinson)

~ 12.05. L wears blue green (back)GAP/PAL(front) Hoodie at airport

~ 04.06. H pink Shirt with 'TOP' {okay Harold}

~ 08.06 + 29.06. L Casablanca Rainbow Outfit {best fit of the year!}

~ 12.07. H sings as surprise guest with Stevie Nicks at Hyde Park (first show after a whole year) & wears a green shirt & bluegreen birdie pin

~ 21.07 first gig L plays after Euros he wears blue green Casablanca Jacket {Come on Lou!}

~ 10.08 (after Lottie/F Book thingy) H being papped with hat 'I am the eldest boy' + L on stage with black and yellow fit {bee reference for larries associating bees with bbg?}

~ 04.09. H takes pics with fans wearing Grand Prix sunglasses while also bluegreening (also 28 days before AIMH tweet anniversary) {after L was at F1 Grand Prix - I see what you did there H}

~ 10.09 H pic with fan wearing LT Hoodie

~ 13.09. H wears white strawberries pin (white strawberries have sexual meanings ranging from c*mming on someones butthole to other things) {Harold, oh my god! LMAO 🤣}

~ 15.09. H papped and fan pics with cardigan in babyblue & shirt underneath looks like it says 'H L paradise' (Japanese designer)

~ 28.12 L pics/vids with fans out in Doncaster wearing his Pleasures Skull Cardigan (backside says 'What happend to you? What happend to me? Pleasures is PAIN' sentences divided by green lines {of course green 😂}

~ L&H are seen multiple times with the same adidas sneakers (on stunt/pap pics) for example camel Adidas sneakers (L's insides are green Hs blue) but also other matching adidas shoe modells

×Music stuff 2024×

× 02.02. WMYB is played after Ls concert

× L Love him/hate it during festivals/concerts:

*30.01 (and mouthed 'that's right'? after)

*22.06 (at pinkpop)

*several other clips/vids of mouthing 'him'

× 28.03. L Away from home festival poster drops (without dates)- with aqueduct like Homes Chapel

× 29.03. L Away from home festival poster looks like door with starry sky & starts on the day (8th of June) of the pride festival in Merida, Mexico (Merida as in the Disney princess from BRAVE)

× 30.03. L has a 1h set but decides to include 3 1D songs + covers 7 (during 7 all lights were red except one single green spotlight), rainbows on screen during JHO, pointed to 🏳️‍🌈 flag with 'Always You Larry' written on, during BTY big HIM on screen with the lyrics of the song

× April - hotspot puzzle for Ls Live Album promo were all Hospitals or Helipads = giant H's

× 12.04. {few days after non denial} Dylan is announced as opener for Ls festival (famous song 'You're not Harry Styles' & covers Kiwi)

× 15.05. during 'Silver Tongues' after 'no one understands me like you do' L says ✨oBviOusLy ✨ + during Saturdays one single green spot on him (again 3 days later)

× 24.05. L (first show after Trarry BU) on screens giant H and S + he sings Lucky Again (after 236days)

× 03.08. Ls big screen showing his 28 tattoo covered with a rainbow🌈 + during Silver Tongues after 'no one understands me like you do' he says 'no truer lyric.'

(× 18.08 L skips Walls but covers 7 nonetheless (&WDBHG))

× 06.09. L has giant H's on screen during 7 cover + L says 'Thats real' after 'Larry called a lot of smoke in' (fandom debates what he meant) {kings of plausible deniability}

- 16/19 festivals L has done he covered 7 - Catfish & The Bottlemen 🎶

{16 times? 1+6=7 we love a good 7 moment}

- L singing Where Do Broken Hearts Go (1D song written by H) at every festival {Why this song Lou?}

___

Many crossovers with their stylists, photographers, friends & family mentioning each other, liking/sharing each others posts or attending events together = same circles

___

SOURCES:

Twitter: @BKatie167 & her awesome GoogleDoc (which should include everything I mentioned & more!)

https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/15mUV3fMuiBfz4zl1TziMeGQKmBYt7s6dyMneHA2c7RE/edit?usp=drivesdk

Also everything mentioned was/is discussed by @skepticalarrie @twopoppies and shout-out to my Larry friend @fookinhellcurly

Tumblr/Twitter: @hldailyupdate @fashionlouist

You should find vids/clips & discussions for everything I mentioned with a quick Tumblr or YT search 🔍

#larry #larries #larry stylinson #harry styles #louis tomlinson #larry 2024 #tonix3

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seventeenytiny · 2 years ago

Text

1:00am (Reposted Again)

I am so sorry for reposting again this but Tumblr is mad at me and I don’t think my post was showing up in tags so I am trying one last time :(

Smut: Minors DNI

Felix tries to help you relax after the two of you sneak out to the hot tub late at night

Contains: Smut, Minor DNI, Oral (female receiving), public sex

Word Count: 1769

Author’s Note: I’ve had this in my drafts for way too long because I was never happy with how it turned out. After much editing, I’m still not in love with it but screw it I gotta post it. Just use this as a guide and make it sound better in your head lol.

“Meet me by the hot tub at 1am,” Felix whispered as he passed by, his hand grazing your hip. His deep voice sends chills down your spine, anticipation of what the night holds has you buzzing.

When you agreed to rent a vacation cabin out in the woods with a group of friends, you didn’t realize it would lead to you and Felix hooking up. You wait patiently for night to fall and for friends to all go to their rooms. You change into your bikini, wrapping yourself in a cover-up to help keep you warm from the chilly night air. Once you see all the lights out and the sound of soft snores fill the cabin, you cautiously creep out, careful to not alert anyone of your whereabouts. The path to the hot tub is dark, but your eagerness helps you push forward. Letting the moonlight guide you, you see a shadowy figure standing near the tub, the figure’s long hair clearly indicating it’s Felix. As you approach, he runs his fingers through his locks, a smile that could light up the night appears on his face.

“I’m glad you decided to come,” He says, embracing you.

“Of course, I’d come for you.” You smile shyly at him.

“Well let’s not waste any time and get in.” He takes off his shirt, exposing his abs and leaving him in just his swim trunks. You freeze upon seeing his upper half, his thin yet toned body is more beautiful than you could have imagined.

“No need to be shy around me Y/N. Here, let me help you,” He reaches towards you to help remove your cover-up, his eyes scanning your body as the cloth falls to the ground. The crisp air causes goose bumps to cover your skin, consequently, your nipples noticeably harden. Felix licks his lips, clearly enjoying the view in front of him.

“So beautiful...” he mumbles to himself.

“What was that Lixie?”

Lixie? That was the first time he heard you call him that, the new nickname makes his heart flutter.

“Ah nothing... Let’s get you warmed up Y/N.” He takes your hand and leads you into the tub, watching you carefully to make sure you don’t slip. You sigh in relief as the warm water covers your chilled body. Felix follows in behind you, you take note of the slight bulge in his swim trunks. Once he’s seated he reaches over to you to pull you into his lap

“Come here baby girl, I’ll make sure you stay nice and warm.”

“You're too kind Felix,” you joke as you make yourself comfortable in his arms, trying to hide the blush on your face. Baby girl was a name you could get used to, especially if it was Felix calling you that.

You lean your head back against his shoulder, his arms wrapped around your torso, lightly grazing your underboob.

You both stay in that position for a bit, casually chatting about random topics and life in general. As the conversation continues you feel one of Felix’s hands slowly creep towards your core. You carry on with what you were saying, acting as if nothing is happening. You couldn’t reveal just how desperate you are for his touch just yet.

You readjust yourself on his lap, opening your legs slightly more for him, your ass feeling his very noticeable erection.

“How’s work been going for you baby girl? I know it was bothering you quite a bit last month.”

“Oh it still sucks, I feel like I can’t relax because I know how much I’ll have to do when I get back from this trip.”

“Is your boss still being a cunt?”

“The cuntiest.” You reply with an exasperated sign.

“That’s no good, why don’t I help you try to relax?” His hand moves to rest right on top of your crotch. Your body heats up with excitement, and you turn your head to bury it in the crook of his neck, placing a small kiss there.

“If you can actually take my mind off work, I will owe you forever.”

“Hmm... Do I have your consent?”

You look at his face with glassy eyes, “Yes, I trust you, Felix.”

He smirks, “Here’s what I want you to do, I want to sit up on the ledge right here.”

Curious of what he has in mind, you oblige, your brain too foggy with lust to overthink it. He helps lift you up to the edge, making sure you’re comfortable. The steam rising from the tub helps keep you warm.

He stands back and gently spreads your legs apart, the fabric of your bikini clinging to your folds, perfectly outlining your pussy.

“Wow,” he mumbles, his eyes now dark with want. He lowers his face to be eye level with your pussy, you can feel his warm breath on it.

“Y/N, are you ready to relax?”

“Felix, if you’re going to eat me out, I have to be honest, no guy has ever made me cum from oral.”

He chuckles “As cheesy as it sounds, I promise I’m not like the other guys, give me a chance please.”

“Please prove me wrong.”

And with those words, he starts to go to work. He starts by placing kisses on your clothed slit, the warmth from his mouth lingers every time he pulls away. You lean back on the ledge, eyes closed as you focus on all the sensations. He pulls your bikini bottoms to the side, giving you a long lick against your folds. He places more kisses on you, teasing you with slow delicate motions.

You’re quick to be desperate for more, you put your hands in his hair and pull him closer to your core.

“So needy already...” He tsks. “Why don’t you take your bottoms off for me so I can properly touch you.”

You nearly jump out of your bottoms, not wanting to waste any time with his mouth not on your pussy.

He readjusts himself, placing kisses on your inner thigh before stopping right at your entrance, “Is this what you want? Do you want me to kiss right here?”

“Please Felix,” you beg, pulling his head towards you.

“Whatever you want baby girl.”

He kisses your slit before attaching his mouth to your clit and gently sucking on it. You throw your head back in pleasure, his mouth finally reliving the pressure that’s been building up down there.

He continues to suck on your sensitive bundle of nerves, slowly getting more aggressive with his technique. He then slides a finger into your pussy, your warm walls immediately sucking him in. You’re so slick with arousal that his finger slides in and out with ease, you can hear the wet sound of your pussy over his slurping.

“Oh so good Lixie, don’t ever stop...” you moan out. He adds a second finger into you, scissoring his fingers to stretch you out. He has everything down to a perfect science, the timing of his fingers with the timing of his tongue over your clit is impeccable.

He starts to slow down his thrusts with his fingers, you groan as he pulls them out of you, disliking the empty feeling. He removes his mouth from you so he can lick his fingers clean.

“You taste so fucking amazing Y/N, I need more.”

He drives right back in, eating you out like his life depends on it.

Your hands pull his hair and your thighs tighten around his head. The amount of pleasure he receives from your thighs nearly suffocating him is unimaginable. You use the grip you have in his hair to pull his face even closer to your body, his nose pressing up against your clit. You grind against his face as he licks and sucks on you. He lets out deep moans as you practically ride his face, sending vibrations straight to your core.

“Lixie... I think I might actually cum,” you pant out, sweat covering your brow.

He only responds by moaning back into your pussy, his hands gripping your thighs hard.

You can feel it, that precious build-up within your lower half, you can feel your high almost there. You’re so damn close.

He puts his two fingers back in, the feeling of fullness is what brings you to your high. You twist and pull at his locks as your eyes squeeze tight. Your whole body shakes with pleasure and your thighs wrap even harder around his head. You feel like your breath is being squeezed from your lungs as you moan out, welcoming the best orgasm of your whole life. Felix never stops for a second, determined to help you ride out your orgasm for as long as possible. Your arousal runs down his face, coating his chin, he struggles to keep up with all the juices flowing out of you.

Once he feels the grip on his hair loosen and your thighs relax he starts to let up.

“Felix... I’m too sensitive...”

“Just 30 more seconds, you taste too good for me to let anything go to waste.”

He cleans you up with his tongue, and his hands rub your thighs as they shake from the sensitivity. He pulls away finally and you can see his face once again. His lips are puffy and covered with your wetness. You pull him out of the water to kiss his lips, enjoying the lingering taste of your pussy.

“I’m sorry I doubted you Felix, that was honestly the best orgasm I’ve ever had.”

His smile takes up half his face hearing that, “Come on Y/N I think you’re exaggerating.” He wipes his face with the back of his hand before carefully helping you put your bikini bottoms back on. He grabs your waist and pulls you back down into the water with him. The warmth of the water along with your orgasm has you feeling weightless, Felix holds you up against his chest as you let your feet float up.

“How are you feeling Y/N?”

“There’s not a thing I could care about right now.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear.”

“Oh but what about you, you didn’t cum.” You start to reach towards the waistband of his shorts but he stops you.

“Don’t worry about me, tonight is about you. Anyways, you said if I made you relax you would owe me forever. So... did I make you relax?”

You place a playful kiss on his cheek, “How about you meet me back here tomorrow at the same time and I’ll make it up to you.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

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jasntodds · 3 months ago

Text

Penance [8]

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader

Words: 5,400

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, tiny bit of angst, fluff, mentions of death

Summary:❝Thesus: Stop. Give me your hand. I am your friend. Herakles: I fear to stain your clothes with blood. Thesus: Stain them. I don’t care.❞

It’s been a month and a half since Crane’s reign of terror was stopped, leaving Gotham to finally return to normal. But, what is normal? After everything Jason and you have been through, it seems normal might be some unobtainable dream state. But that’s not going to stop either of you from trying and maybe, you’ll get lucky in the end. At the end of it, the two of you have suffered enough, right?

Right?

A/N: I honestly just needed a little bit of a break from writing lol Anyway this has one of my favorite scenes in it and it's because it's cute and not angst for once lol You can add yourself to the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary and turn on notifications if you prefer that!! I love feedback, I swear it keeps me posting on a weekly basis 😭

series masterlist | masterlist | tag list

You wake up with your alarm a few hours later. You're still drowsy in your eyes but your mind is wide awake, knowing you're going to see Jason today. And unlike the last week, this makes you smile from ear to ear with excitement and nerves. You aren’t under any obligation this time. Tim is gone and it’s just you and him. You aren’t training or patrolling. You're going shopping and working on his home. It feels normal.

You change three times before deciding on jeans and a Wayne Enterprises shirt, mostly because you expect to get dirty and you don’t want to ruin one of the shirts you actually like. Though, you hate admitting the WE shirt fits nicely and it’s a good color.

When you walk into the kitchen, Molly is seated with a sandwich on a plate and her laptop open. Molly's eyes glance up to you before she goes back to her work. You start kicking on a pair of Converse before you break the silence.

“I had sex with Jason last night.” You blurt out.

Molly shoots her attention back to you and blinks a few times. “You what?” Molly asks, unsure if she heard that right.

“I had sex with Jason.” You repeat as you get your second shoe on.

“Of course, you did.” Molly lets out a sigh and that's when she sees the hint of bruises that are very clearly hickies sticking out from the collar of your shirt.

You finally look back to Molly, brows tugging together. “Fuck you?” You question.

Molly leans back to stretch, as if preparing herself for the story you'll have. “You two can’t control yourselves.” Molly rolls her shoulders.

“Well—“ You suck in a breath. “Yeah…” You let out a sigh with a small grin. “Just thought I’d tell you.”

Molly sucks in a deep breath, pushing her laptop an inch away from her. “How did you manage to sleep with him?”

“Well, okay so Dick had this whole thing where we had to spar with blindfolds on, right?” You start and Molly gives you a nod. “Well, we took it up a notch at the Manor and we’d shut all the lights off and we’d have to spar and disarm each other but we’d also have to find each other using anything but our sight. Good practice. Well, we did that last night and then…”

“Something about you two hunting each other in the dark does it for the two of you?” Molly quips.

You offer Molly a quick glare before you cross your arms. “At this point, would it shock you?”

“No.” Molly sighs honestly.

“Exactly but no.” You scoff. “We were joking like we always do, yelling at each other through the dark, ya know? And then he fucking hid before a window so I had to step into the light and we sparred there and then…I don’t know.” You shrug before you lean on the wall beside you, shifting your weight to your left foot. “I just…kissed him.”

Molly nods her head. “And then?”

“He kissed me back and one thing led to another and we said it was a one-time thing.” You gesture a hand out haphazardly.

Molly lets out a groan and while she adores the both of you, she has to wonder how two people can be so stubborn in their ways. If you want to fall into something again, that's fine but Molly can't wrap her head around the logic the two of you are using to justify your silence around each other. The two of you like to overcomplicate your own feelings when it doesn't have to be that complicated.

"What?" You question, pulling out your phone to see a text from Jason saying he's on his way.

“Do you honestly believe this is a one-time thing?” Molly asks with a bite in her voice.

“No.” You say quietly.

“Do you want it to be a one-time thing?”

“No.”

“So fucking tell him.” Molly urges.

“I-I can’t.” You shake your head. "Not yet." Your eyes go to the floor before they find their way back to Molly. “What if he leaves again?” You ask quietly, your voice falling small.

Molly's shoulders slouch forward. "Just because of what you guys do, doesn't mean it has to end that way." Molly states softly and she does believe it. She knows what you do is dangerous and maybe one of you won't come home, but that isn't guaranteed.

"That's not what I mean." You shake your head quickly. "He died, yeah and that's a whole..." You suck in a breath. "That's a thing but then...he came back and he still left me standing on a rooftop. I begged him to not leave and then he did." You let out a sigh as you look back to the floor. "So, maybe things get too hard and he leaves again. On purpose. At least...at least if he dies it's because it's part of the job, greater good."

"He left to protect you." Molly states. "I know there's more to it because he never had to work with Crane, he could have talked to Dick, there were things he could've done. But, bottom line is that he left to protect you, not because he wanted to."

"Right, yeah, but Jason Todd tends to believe he's the worst person to walk the face of the earth." You push off of the wall with a breath. "I don't know. It's like...I want to tell him and then I think of another reason not to." You shake your head, checking the time on your phone before you pocket it again. "Want it to be right, don't want to scare him off, I don't wanna leave him." You chew the inside of your cheek. "I just want it to be right next time."

Molly nods with understanding and if she were being honest, she can't imagine your point of view of standing on the roof with Jason. You don't ask people to stay. You don't stay too often. For you to beg him and him to leave anyway, Molly can only imagine the devastation that ripped through you.

"So...what do you want to do then?" Molly asks.

You let out a soft laugh. "Honestly, I don't know but as long I'm with him...I think I'm okay with whatever it is. I'll get over it, ya know?" You nod. "Uh...Jason is getting me an appointment with Leslie so...maybe I'll just ask her and maybe...maybe I'll take some advice."

"Even if she tells you to talk to him?"

You let out a groan as a smile pulls at your lips. "It would be the right thing to do."

"It would." Molly agrees with a laugh. "For what it's worth, you've looked happier the last week than you have in over a month."

You feel heat rush over your cheeks. "He still makes me very happy." You scrunch your nose. "So, anyway, I will have a conversation with him soon but for now, just know last night was fun and I'm going to Home Depot to help him fix up his place."

Molly lets out a laugh. “Oh? You moving out?”

“Shut up, no.” You laugh softly. “Just helping him.”

Molly rolls her eyes with a smile, mentally making a note of the date because she's willing to bet you'll be back living with Jason within a few months of his place being finished.

"If you say so." Molly quips as she pulls the laptop back to her.

"Are you kicking me out?" You offer a fake pout as you make your way to the door.

"No." Molly chortles. "I just know you two."

"That's fair." You laugh back. "Okay, I'll be back later." You wave quickly before heading out of the door, locking it behind you.

By the time you exit the apartment building, Jason is already there. A black sports car is parked against the curb while Jason is leaning against the passenger door, looking at his phone with one hand in his pocket. A smile tugs at your lips seeing him. Jason catches a glimpse of the doors opening and you walking out from the tops of his eyes.

“Wayne Enterprises?” Jason chortles as he looks your way.

“Fuck off.” You threaten as you close the distance between you. “Figured we’d get dirty and I don’t wanna ruin a shirt I like...unlike you.” You look him up and down. He's wearing a black leather jacket, one you always said looked good on him and a pair of black jeans.

"I'm gonna change when we get back." Jason quips back.

You point to the car. “Bruce?”

“Yeah.” Jason looks to the car and back to you. “He’s back in town today, said I could borrow it long as I didn’t do anything stupid.” Jason lets out a laugh, shaking his head. “You could talk to him.” He suggests, trying to play it casual.

Jason knows Bruce is not exactly your favorite person but he would like for you to talk to him. Jason forgives him for everything and a lot of your anger towards Bruce is because of Jason. Bruce means a lot to him and you mean a lot to him. He just wants you to get along and Bruce said he's willing to talk with you and try to smooth things over. Jason won't say it, but it would mean a lot if the two of you could get along and get to a good place.

You quirk a brow at him, almost a look of disgusted confusion plastering itself across your features. “What?”

“Could talk to him.” Jason repeats himself.

“No.” You scoff. “Why would I do that?”

The way you see it, you have nothing to say to him. You warned him about Jason and the Joker and then Jason died because Bruce wouldn't listen. All Bruce had to do was listen to Jason, listen to you, or anyone and he didn't. Then after his death, he was still referring to it like it was some sort of war and Jason was a soldier, a sacrifice for a good cause as if he wasn't his son. Your fists ball at your sides the argument replaying in your head.

Jason shakes his head. “I did.”

“Because he’s your dad.” You state. “He’s always been…” You trail off trying to find the right way to phrase it because you want to say something about Bruce weaponizing two of the most important people to you and something about him getting Jason killed which spiraled into the effect of Dick and Tim getting killed. You want to tell him details of your arguments after he died but that would be cruel. “Not that to me.”

“He’s trying.” Jason states and he knows that if he wants to be with you, which he does, it would be a whole lot easier if you and Bruce got along. “Not fucking perfect or some shit, but…trying.”

“I’m glad he’s trying, Jay. Honest.” You nod as your eyes go soft. “I just don’t have anything to say to him.” You pull in a breath.

Jason knows getting you to sit down and have a conversation with Bruce is not going to be easy. You can hold a grudge better than anyone Jason has ever met. But, he knows it's all still a little fresh for you. He hopes after a little more time you can talk to him. Jason thinks you'd actually get along if you would give him a real chance but he also knows that's a lot easier said than done. If roles were reversed, Jason wouldn't be so forgiving either.

“You’re still using his credit card.” Jason chuckles.

“I’m mad at him, not stupid.” You let out a laugh.

“Just get in the car.” Jason states as he opens the passenger side for you.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” You smile softly at him. “Thank you.”

The two of you head to Home Depot, Jason having made a list for supplies on his phone. You mostly get things like tools and drywall. You grab some outlet covers and plywood for some of the floors. Most of the house really isn’t in too bad of shape. It mostly needs a good clean and some paint. It’s only a handful of spots that need actual work done but it is nice you get to do this together.

After you get back, you get right to work working on the spare room. The drywall in that room needs to be replaced so you work on that before Jason moves onto some of the plumbing in one of the bathrooms, you taking it upon yourself to get to cleaning some of the upstairs. Jason plays a mixed playlist through the speakers, one he still has on his Spotify from when you were dating. It contains all of both of your favorite songs.

A few hours into it, Jason places an order for some food and once it’s delivered, the two of you take your seats in the main hallway downstairs, sitting on the floor. Jason sits with one leg tugged to his chest, eating his burger while you're seated cross-legged, eating the same as his just without the onion.

“Are you gonna paint?” You ask, looking around at the white walls.

“Walls are grimy as fuck.” Jason says with a mouth full of food. “Probably.”

You give him a grin. “You should paint one wall r—“

“I’m not painting the walls fucking red.” Jason lets out a booming laugh as he tilts his head back.

“But! It’s your color!” You cheer, the smile vibrant and happy. “Come on, it’ll look good! Just one wall.” Your eyes are wide and soft, cheerful and playful. Jason thinks he’s going to melt into the floor. He’d do anything to have you look at him like that all the time.

“Fine.” Jason agrees before stuffing a fry into his mouth. “One wall but I pick the shade.”

“Okay.” You beam, looking down at your food with a warm chest. You look back up to him before eating one of his fries, Jason blinking at you. That’s why he ordered a large instead of a medium. “And you should paint one wall blue.” You chime with a cheeky grin. “My blue, not Dick’s.” You laugh softly.

Jason bursts into a fit of laughter. “That’s a bit far, huh?” Jason questions.

“No! You have a wall and I have a wall! I’m helping so I think that’s only fair.” You bat your eyelashes at him with a toothy smile.

“So you think you get a whole damn wall cause you’re helping me fucking clean?”

“And because I’m your favorite vigilante!” You laugh and Jason thinks you're even cuter than you've ever been.

Happy looks good on you.

“Right.” Jason nods his head, resting his arm over his knee to lean in a bit. “And what makes you think that?”

“Well, it’s not Batman.” You chortle. “It’s not Dick because even if it were, you’d rather have a lobotomy than ever admit it. It’s not Conner because you don’t really know him well. It’s not Rachel. It’s not Superman just because he’s friends Bruce so on principle alone, it can’t be him.” You explain as Jason laughs.

Sam thinks he's laughed more in the last few minutes than he ever has. She'd do anything to keep him this happy.

Happy looks good on him.

“How many times have you thought about this?” Jason questions as he furrows his brows, a teasing grin pulling at his lips.

“Clearly, too many.” You suck in a breath. “I don’t really have a good reason for any other vigilante that I don’t know but I know it’s not them. So, really, I think my only competition is Kory and Gar because Kory is a badass and I mean…Gar.” You explain as you furrow your brows before your eyes soften at him with a gentle smile. “I still think I’m your favorite.”

Of course you are.

“All good points but you haven’t explained how you’re my favorite.” Jason teases you.

“Well, I let you sleep with me.” You fire back as Jason bursts into more laughter.

“That doesn’t fucking count.” Jason argues.

“Fine fine fine.” You shake your head. “Um…you trained me which you hold a lot of pride in.” You state. “You like my suit, clearly cause we both have hoods now. Half my damn name is literally yours.” You widen your eyes at him as you tilt your head side to side. “Because I’m your favorite.” You state with pride.

Jason shakes his head, his heart turning into a puddle of mush. He’s so in love with you. “Fine, you’ll be my favorite when I’m yours.” Jason teases back.

“Who says you’re not my favorite?” You argue.

“Krypto.” Jason answers without skipping a beat.

You tilt your head, laughing and it takes everything in him not to kiss you. “Yeah…he’s such a good boy!” You shake your head, taking another one of Jason’s fries. “You’re my second favorite though.”

Jason shakes his head. “Why?” He asks.

“Trying to get me to fill your ego?”

Jason gives you a cheeky smirk. “Can’t help myself.”

“Because you’re Jason Todd.” You answer simply. “That’s why you’re my favorite, not counting Krypto.”

Jason’s brows furrow. “What’s that mean?”

You shrug a shoulder. “Too many reasons list. You’re my favorite because you’re you.” You know it sounds a little like a copout but it's true. Jason Todd is your favorite person no matter the suit or lack thereof. It's always that simple to you.

Jason looks down, pushing the container of fries so it’s more in the middle of you. “One wall.” Jason looks back to you with a soft smile.

“Really?” You ask with hope in your eyes and Jason thinks he’d let you paint the whole place any color you wanted at this point.

“Gonna be here all the damn time anyway, right?” Jason asks.

It hasn't felt so lonely with you being around and it's not just because he's not alone physically. He never feels lonely when you're around. He feels at ease with you around and happy. He hopes you keep coming around even after you finish the house.

“Probably.” You nod quickly. “Yeah.” Your cheeks burn knowing it's true. Even if you won't intend to be around all the time, it is bound to happen if the pattern continues. Though, by the grin on his lips and the airiness of his voice, you don't think he minds. It always feels more like home when you're with him.

“Guess I could spare a few walls for you.” Jason offers a soft smile.

“Awfully nice of you, Jay.”

“I can be nice.” Jason finishes off his burger.

"You have your moments." You smile softly at him before scrunching your nose and taking another fry.

Over the next few days, the two of you continue cleaning and getting the home ready. It feels normal and happy. For once, it feels like the two of you don't have to have a care in the world as you work. And you don't even wonder what it would be like if you were actually together because you both know it would be just like this.

You're picking out an overall shade of the house and helping him pick out furniture, something he thinks would have happened anyway. Jason stocks shared food and drinks for the two of you and he says it's just because you've been helping him and you'll be by a lot anyway. It's not a big deal. You share the space without ever slapping a label on it and it feels comfortable.

Jason has also had his appointment with Leslie, asking her about you. She called you after Jason's appointment and now you have an appointment for the following week. You aren't too thrilled about it but if Jason is saying it's helping, the least you can do is try. Asking Jason to try all those months ago but not doing it yourself, makes you a hypocrite. You owe it to yourself.

The last few days have been nice and pretty easy but you're getting ready to leave your apartment now and Molly is standing in your doorway, watching you.

"Where are you going? You just got back and you don't patrol this early." Molly states as she watches you shove your backpack onto your back.

"Just out." You shrug your shoulders. "I'll be back in time for patrol." You go to walk past her but Molly blocks you.

"Where do you go when do this? Jason found you in an alley—"

"Is it a crime to go on a walk?" You question.

"It is for you, yes." Molly answers back. "You also always do it whenever something is wrong. Did something happen with Jason today?" Molly asks as you watch her face fall.

You put your hands on Molly's shoulders. "Nothing happened with Jason. We did what we usually do, worked on the house. I just have something I have to do." You close your eyes, knowing Molly isn't going to get off your back. "It just has to do with the case we're working. It's nothing, okay? I'm almost done anyway." You gesture for Molly to move.

Molly would never approve of what you're doing. Molly would tell Jason and then you'd tell Gar and Dick, next thing you would know you'd be sat in an intervention about your own self-destruction. They'd lecture about how unsafe it is and you're just punishing yourself, there are other ways. You're nearly rolling your eyes at the very thought of hearing the lecture. Even when you would defend yourself, they wouldn't believe it were just for the case. It just seems like a giant headache and a waste of time so you keep your mouth shut to Molly.

Molly moves slowly out of the way. "What the hell does that mean?"

"Nothing." You groan, not turning around to face her. "I'll be back after patrol." You state before you slide your shoes on.

"Are you in trouble?" Molly's voice grows small and quiet.

You look back to her. "No." You answer simply. "It's fine." You let out a sigh. "I'll be back." You open the door and leave without another word.

Molly watches the door close and she knows she shouldn't, but she reaches for her phone anyway. You've been better about not keeping secrets ever since you looped Molly into the vigilante world. You keeping this secret while offering next to nothing, has rubbed Molly the wrong way. Maybe if you kept your phone on, Molly wouldn't worry as much but considering you have a real fear of being kidnapped, Molly knows it's taking a lot for you to shut your phone off. It means you're up to something no one will approve of. So, she calls Jason.

"Wanna do me another favor?" Molly asks as soon as Jason picks up.

"I'm not hunting her down again, Molly." Jason says, knowing immediately what Molly was gonna ask.

Molly lets out a groan as she plops down at the kitchen table. "Look, I think she got herself into some trouble."

Jason closes his eyes but he knows you're someone who wants to handle your own trouble on your own and will, inevitably get in over your head. "What do you mean?" Jason caves.

Molly pauses for a few seconds trying to figure out how she can explain this to Jason without sounding paranoid. She's hoping his care for you will work in her favor.

"She goes out randomly, won't tell me, shuts off her phone, and today she did say it had to do with the case she's working." Molly explains.

The only weird thing in that entire sentence is your phone but Jason doesn't think that's enough of a reason. He's been doing this whole thing longer than both of you and sometimes, getting intel means it's gotta be kept quiet to everyone. If it has to do with the case, Jason's betting that's what you're doing, maybe don't want Molly involved to protect her. From where Jason is sitting, it actually seems pretty normal.

Jason lets out a sigh. "That's not a fucking reason to hunt her down." Jason states. "I'm not going. We're in a good place and I don't wanna fuck that up. I can't go stalking her around Gotham cause you're fucking worried she might be doing something weird."

"I know." Molly sighs in defeat. "I worry about you guys." Molly confesses. "Last time, please?" Molly pleads with him.

Jason gets up from his spot at the computers with a sigh. "You gotta get used to it, Molly." Jason states, keeping his voice level. "Worrying and shit, that's just part of it."

"I know." Molly nods her head. "Can't you just see where she's going?" Molly looks to the floor and lets out a breath. "I won't ask again unless I have a better reason."

Jason looks at his gear before he looks to the ceiling, knowing you're going to rip him a new one. "When did she leave?"

"Ten minutes ago."

"If she goes all Acid Fingers on me, I'm sending her to you." Jason states.

Molly smiles on the other end. "I can handle her."

Jason gets ready in his Red Hood gear, feeling a little guilty for agreeing to do this again. But, this will be the last time and he figures he'll just let you know about Molly's worrying so you can loop her in. Jason knows you're probably fine. You're smart and resourceful, if you get into trouble with whatever you're doing, you probably have some sort of backup plan for help. He's just doing this for Molly even if her worrying is rubbing off on him as he exits his building.

It takes him about fifteen minutes to find you. It's like he told Molly, you're a creature of habit. He found you near the alley you were in last time. Jason takes a roof of a nearby building and maybe this is wrong. You're perfectly fine, clearly, you're having a conversation with some man in a suit but the conversation doesn't look to be going sideways. You're fine but Jason decides to sit up on the roof and wait it out anyway. He doesn't listen in, he just watches a bit. At the end of the day, you're still meeting up with a random guy in an alley. You're paranoid on a good day, so that's weird. That's what Jason tells himself to justify his spying on you.

Once the man walks out of the alley, Jason uses his grappling hook to make his way down to you. The movement gathers attention and you immediately grab a knife from your pocket as you look up. Instead of something horrible, you see Jason. Your grip loosens as you roll your eyes. The annoyance isn't directed at him because Jason doesn't stalk you unless he's given a reason. The reason seems always to be Molly.

"What're you doing?" You question once Jason is standing with his feet on the ground.

"Who was that?" Jason asks, nodding his head towards the end of the alley where the man walked off.

"Jealous?" You quip as you cross your arms over your chest.

You can't see it, but Jason deadpans behind the helmet. "Of that fuck?" Jason scoffs. "Fuck no." Jason scans you over and you look fine, other than mildly annoyed.

Despite the annoyance, there is a part of you that does appreciate him checking in on you. You know Molly sent him and even if Jason was certain you were fine, he did it to put Molly at ease which is nice. If you were in Jason's shoes, you'd be doing the same thing so you can't get too mad at him. If you were being honest, you can't get too mad at Molly either.

"So?" You raise your brows and gesture a hand out to him, waiting for him to give you an explanation.

"Don't shoot the messenger." Jason puts his hands up in defense.

You roll your eyes. "Molly, really?"

"She's worried about you." Jason states, the voice modulator hiding a tint of worry in his own voice.

"I'm fine, Red." You gesture a hand over yourself. "See?"

You make a mental note to have a sit down with Molly because you can't be asking Jason to track you down whenever she's worried. What Molly doesn't understand is that you and Jason are both prepared for when something goes wrong. Molly knows you have your failsafes but that doesn't seem to put her mind at ease very much. The more you're thinking about it, knowing Jason has one doesn't put you at much ease either.

Jason nods his head but he's not willing to let it rest. "Can't fucking blame her when you're the one being ominous as fuck about what you're doing."

"I'm just getting some intel." You state casually. "It's really not a big deal."

If it weren't a big deal, you would tell Molly. Jason knows there has to be more to it. You're being too secretive about it but it's not exactly his place to badger you about it. It's your case, not his even if you agreed you'd kind of work your cases together. It's still yours and you were trained the same way he was. He's just worried about you and now he knows how you felt when he was Robin. It's not fun worrying about the person you care about all the time.

"You sure that's all it is?" Jason questions and receives a nod from you. "Why not tell Molly?"

You shrug softly and you really don't have an answer outside of the truth. "Um...it's not...the same case I've been working." You confess and Jason's stomach starts to twist.

"What the hell did you get into?" Jason nearly demands as worry starts to tug at his bones.

You close some of the distance between you, lightly grabbing his forearms in your hands. "Nothing, I swear. It's not anything bad or dangerous." You urge as your eyes meet the whites of his helmet. "I know that sounds like bullshit but I promise, it's not."

Jason's eyes are scanning over your features and you're not lying to him but somehow that doesn't reassure him. You not being in danger should rid the anxiety wanting to melt from his flesh but all he does is grow more confused.

"Not very reassuring." Jason quips.

You chew the inside of your cheek as you drop your hands. "Can you trust me, please?" You plead with him and you can't see it, but his features soften under the helmet.

"You get into any shit, you'll tell me, right?" Jason asks.

You nod and offer him a soft smile. "Yeah, of course but it's not that kind of case. I'll tell you when I can, promise." You nod again and your smile seems to turn sad.

"Alright." Jason sighs.

"I always have my knives and if I'm ever in a bad enough situation, I will burn someone. I got it."

Jason nods and he rests a hand on your hip lightly. "Sorry for stalking you." A chuckle leaves his lips.

"Yeah, you weirdo." You snicker. "It's okay. I'd do the same." You beam up at him, getting you a laugh from Jason.

"You would." Jason quips back. Jason swallows thickly. "Hey, are you sure you couldn't talk to the Bat?"

You shake your head as if doing a double take. "Why do you want me to talk to him so bad?"

Jason shrugs trying his best to play it off as something that doesn't matter too much. "You two not getting along is bound to cause a problem, rather not deal with it."

"I don't have anything to say to him, Red." You urge once more and the very thought of talking to Bruce makes you want to scream.

"Is it because of what happened?" Jason asks.

"No." You answer honestly. "There's more. I don't wanna get into it." You pull in a breath and you wish you could see his face. "I'm sorry but...I can't."

You can't see it, but Jason's face falls into something between disappointment and defeat.

"It's alright, worth a shot." Jason clears his throat and you feel the guilt bubbling into your throat. "Meet up for food later?" Jason changes subject.

"Always." You nod quickly, offering a small smile that never reaches your eyes. "Two?"

"Meet you at Excellent Gotham? I'll pick something up."

"Sounds good." You beam up at him. "Be careful, Red." Your eyes narrow slightly before you scrunch your nose. "I'm gonna go home to get read and I'll be out."

"Want an escort?" Jason offers with a subtle squeeze to your hip.

"I'm okay, but thank you." You smile softly at him before you pull away. "Okay, I'll meet you at two. I'll text you." You grin back at him before you spin on your heels and head down the end of the alley.

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just-some-random-blogger · 2 years ago

Text

Go Walk

Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: "For the record," I mutter under my breath, "if this was Coachella, I wouldn't have ever driven off with a grandpa."

Word Count: 2k+

Warnings: Fem!reader, age gap w joel (≥10), chaotic mom!reader, petty!joel, baby girl!ellie, married couple fights™, angst?, fluff, slice of life, typos etc.

A/N: @sloanexx ito na. i snapped. indulge. also i havent proofread this so (: indulge in typos <3 I also cross-posted this on my AO3 <3 so yea lol Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace Technical p2 "Editorial"

The silence beyond the tires whirring on asphalt was cut by two words, "do it."

I ignore her.

"Do it."

I turn over my shoulder and stare at Ellie.

"Do it," she repeats as I look front, "it's just us and skeletons."

I roll my eyes, "ok."

"What? There were, like, 10 skeletons outside."

"You managed to count them all?" I cross my arms and look out from my side of the car.

"I did actually."

I lick my lips, eyes flickering to the driver who could not care less about our conversation.

"Do it."

I huff through my nose.

"Do it."

Joel's eyes flicker to the rear view mirror.

"Do it."

I shift in the front seat of the car.

"Do it," Ellie mutters louder, "Do it. Do it."

"Ellie, I swear to go-" I start.

"Do i-"

"Shut up," Joel grumbles

"..."

The tires scrape against the road. Ellie and I tense where Joel relaxes. His elbow goes on the side of the door, he leans his head in one hand while the other stays on the wheel.

I look to the rearview mirror. Ellie is looking at me. She mouths, "do it."

I press my lips and steal a look at Joel. He looks exasperated. I will get into trouble for this. But then again, when is he not exasperated, and when do I never not get into trouble?

Click. Off goes my seat belt.

Ellie's lips part.

Click. The window to my right goes down.

Ellie grins.

Quickly, I fold my knees and push myself up on my seat. I stick out my head and torso, flailing my hands up and out of the window. I shriek with glee. My hair flies back. Wind catches in my mouth. It's exhilarating.

Ellie cheers from the inside.

Rip. I am ripped back in, my shirt fisted in an iron clasp, my eardrums hammered by curses and growls laced with a Southern drawl, my eyes widened even through my squint of discomfort.

"ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE? WHY ARE YOU LETTING YOURSELF GET SUCKERED BY 12-YEAR-OLD?"

"I'M NOT TWEL-"

"It was my idea."

"That's what she wants you to think!"

"Hey!"

"Joel--" I huff.

He pulls away, closes the windows from the main panel, then grips both hands on the steering wheel.

"I was talking to her about going to Coachella," I trail off.

Joel scoffs, shaking his head, then turning back to me to give a gnarly stank eye, "does this fucking look like Coachella to you?"

I turn away from him and lick my teeth, "obviously it doesn't."

"Come on, Joel, she was just feeling sentimental," Ellie says, "it's nice not to be so--"

"Well, she better stop being sentimental real soon or it's going to get us all killed."

"Alright," I pinch my fingers together, "I'm sorry I did it, okay. But I already did it, there's no point in-"

"No!" Joel snaps, turning to me for a second, "you don't get to say that to me after pulling a stunt like that!"

"Joel, it's fine. I won't do it again-"

"No, it's not fine! What if someone heard us and comes-"

"No one's going to foll-"

"YOU DON'T KNOW THAT!"

"Ohemgee is that a truck following after-"

"Ellie," Joel growls, "I swear to g-"

"EXACTLY!" Ellie squeals, "NO ONE'S HERE!"

"I'm trying to keep you morons alive and you're purposefully making it harder!" Joel hisses.

I suck in a breath and place my hand on his arm, "Joel. Ok. I know-"

"It's not a big deal!" Ellie crosses her arms and leans back, "we're in the middle of nowhere for miles. You said it yourself."

"Ellie," I scold.

"Well," Joel huffs as he catches sight of our destination, "it will become a big deal once something bad happens, won't it?"

I recoil at his actions and huff. Ellie and I make eye contact, then I roll my eyes. I turn to the window, "for the record," I mutter under my breath, "if this was Coachella, I wouldn't have ever driven off with a grandpa."

Ellie slaps her hands on her mouth.

The tires skid. I shoot forward, held back only by the seatbelt I didn't even realize was put back on me. The engine hums and groans. Joel's knuckles turn white.

I turn to him. He grinds his teeth. My eyes widen as I turn to Ellie. We both chew our lips.

Joel slaps his hands on his lap as he turns to me, "by all means then," he motions, "feel free to walk."

Ellie's jaw slacks as she looks between us.

"What?" my upper lip curls.

Joel unlocks the door from the main control, "you can go scream at a tree and reminisce about Coachella outside the car."

I scoff and make a face of disbelief, "you want me to get out?"

Joel's face hardens. He doesn't respond though.

I trace my bottom lip with my tongue as I nod my head, "okay then."

"No don't lea- why are you getting out!" Ellie cries.

Thump. The door closes.

Skid. The tires grind against the asphalt as Joel drives off and Ellie twists to look at me from the backseat. Her eyes are wide, "YOU'RE ACTUALLY LEAVING HER."

"I gave her a choice," Joel notes bitterly.

"YOU ASKED HER TO LEAVE!" Ellie snaps.

"I said she was free to walk, and she chose to walk!" Joel counters.

Ellie turns back front and tugs at Joel's arm, "STOP DRIVING!"

Joel does not budge nor respond.

"JOEL!"

"She's a big girl," he quips, "all high and mighty with her attitude," he grumbles softly then raises his voice, "it'd do her good to walk back to base."

"You're an asshole!" Ellie says, crossing her arms.

Joel does not respond. His eyes flicker to the rear view mirror. He lets out a breath.

The moment they arrive and Joel parks, Ellie bursts out the door and begins to walk off.

"Hey!" Joel calls as he gets out of the car, "where do you think you're going?"

"To wait for her," she eyes him, "asshole."

"No," Joel marches to her and grabs her arm, "you're not going to walk to he-"

"I'm not going to walk to her!" Ellie snaps, pulling out of Joel's grip, "I'm just going to wait for her by the lamppost!"

Joel's attention darts to the broken, mossy lamppost, then to the barely visible figure, slowly inching forward from a distance. He turns back to Ellie then turns to the car, "fine. Help me put the things inside first."

"I'll do it la-"

"You'll do it now," Joel commands as he, himself, begins to unpack the supplies they managed to get.

Ellie grumbles and begrudgingly follows, "asshole."

By the time I arrive to our base, I smile at Ellie who dashes over to me and gives me a hug.

I can't help but laugh at her as I hug her back, "you're acting like I came back home from war."

"Joel's an asshole for leaving you," Ellie says against our embrace.

We pull away. I brush her baby hair back as she hooks her arm around my waist. I ask, "did you tell him that?"

"I also gave him the finger," Ellie says to me as she does the gesture.

"You shouldn't have done that," I drape my arm on her shoulders as we walk back, "he'll be all sulky about it."

"He deserved it," she retorts, "what if something did happen?"

I shake my head, "Ellie."

"No- I know... but what if-"

"Joel wouldn't have left me if he wasn't sure I'd be fine," I gesture to myself, "and I am. Call him a caring douchebag."

Ellie sighs, "he's so dramatic."

I let out a high pitched sound.

She snorts as she kicks a rock and then turns back to me, "nah, you're so right. You definitely are the dramatic one between the three of us."

"Hey," I raise a brow at her as I crush her into me, "you're the one that complains about doing the dishes."

"Well-"

"As if you weren't the one that eats the most."

"Hey, I'm a growing child!" she pouts, "and I, for one, think that I should only wash the dishes that he use."

I hum, "maybe you should walk then, because you can't drive."

"That's so not the same thing."

I shake my head and narrow my eyes, "it is, actually."

We make it inside the abandoned house we had been staying at and immediately, I look around for Joel.

"He's fixing the car," she begins to mime, "and doing the thing with the tube and the stick and-"

I raise a hand, "I got it."

"I personally think he's making an excuse so that he wouldn't have to talk to you right now," Ellie says as we head to the kitchen.

I smirk at her, "you reckon he'll make me sleep on the floor?"

Ellie laughs, "geez, I hope he doesn't. It's fucking freezing."

We begin to unpack some of the food we got.

"He's be a mega-asshole if he did," she makes a half-amused face.

I scrunch up my nose and nod.

"But if he does, I'll let you sleep with me, even though your a blanket hoarder."

I raise my hands up, "it's not like I can control that."

"You also have an iron grip, so I can't even pull it back on me," she tilts her head.

"Again," I open a can of beans, "I can't control that."

"You also move a lot when you sleep."

"Can't contro-"

"I change my mind," Ellie makes a face, "you should just get on your knees and beg..." she raises a finger, "or whatever it is you do when you're on your knees."

I release a breath.

She raises her hands and pulls her head back, "hey, two consenting adults."

"Okay," I quickly change the subject, "you know, I was thinking of fainting halfway through the walk, but then I figured I'd freeze to death before Joel came for me. Also he'd use it against me if I ever use the fact I used to jog a lot before as a reason to bring me on his 'solo' runs."

Ellie thinks for a moment, "that could work though, the fainting."

I snort, "what, should I faint just as he walks in the room?"

I dramatically throw my head back and place the back of my hand on my forehead, "he'd freak if I did."

Ellie and I giggle.

"If you faint, I'll put your body in the dumpster," Joel says as he walks in, pushing past me to something from the counter, then walks back.

Ellie and I purse our lips tightly as we watch him leave the room.

Once he's gone, Ellie and I begin to giggle again. She mutters, "asshole."

Later that night, after tucking Ellie in and kissing her good night, I went outside where Joel was still working on the car.

I shudder at the cold and wrap my arms around myself, "the jig is up, it's time to go to bed."

"I'm almost done," Joel mutters.

I roll my eyes, spotting the food I gave him, stagnant and cold in the place I put it hours ago, "you said that already."

Joel wipes his hand on the back of his pants then grunts. He circles from the front of the car to the driver's seat and starts the engine.

I breathe in deeply and huff, "you want some help?"

The car starts, then abruptly stops. Joel then closes the door and shoves something in his pocket, "I'm done." He walks to the open hood and bangs it close. He grabs his plate of food and begins eating as he walks past me.

I huff once more as I trail off after him.

"I made some tea," I mutter, "it's probably an piss cold now but-"

"Piss isn't cold," Joel retorts with a mouthfull.

I rub my eye.

We reach the kitchen, and by that time, Joel finished half of his plate. I give him a look as I watch him eat, "fucking hell, Joel, calm down. No one's going to take that from you."

"It tastes shit," he mumbles.

"Yeah," I cross my arms, "it was bearable when it was hot."

Joel shoves some more food in his mouth. I grunt, "and you didn't even wash your hands!" I chastise, walking over to him to push him to the sink.

Joel grunts as he moves to the sink against his will. He chews with full cheeks as he washes his hand in the miracle sink that had water.

He swallows before he mutters, "motor oil poisoning is the least of your problems, babe."

"Oh, yeah," I cock my head to the side as I hand him box of soap, "seems like it's at the top of your list, actually."

Joel finishes washing his hands before he averts his attention back to his food and mutters, "you're at the top of my list."

I watch as he stuffs his face again then walk up to him to pat his shoulder, "consider me flattered, big boy."

Before I could walk off, I am held back by my arm. I turn to Joel. His chewing slows. He releases his hold on me and leans on his palms, "stay."

I turn back to him and wrap my arms around myself.

Joel finishes the last of his food, thankfully, at a slightly slower pace.

I rub my arms as the cold nips at me.

"You want my jacket?"

I shake my head.

Joel adjusts the collar of his jacket, "you sure?"

"What is this, a romcom?"

Joel shrugs, "you tell me, you're the writer."

I lean my hip on the counter as I gesture at him, "this seems more like an apocalypse to me."

"Huh," he finishes the last of his food, "I wouldn't have guessed."

I purse my lips into a soft smile as Joel begins to wash his plate, "a dash of horror... maybe some farce."

The sound of water fills the beat of silence.

"Is Ellie asleep?"

I grunt, "I kissed her goodnight cause you were still brooding."

He doesn't respond. Joel finishes washing his plate. He puts it away and wipes his hands on a towel. He and I look at each other in silence.

Joel puts the towel down then mimics my stance. He leans back on the sink. I rub my arms. He crosses his.

I roll my shoulders back, "so."

"So," he repeats.

"Is this your way of saying you're still mad at me?"

"I'm mad at you?" Joel tilts his head.

"I don't know, are you?"

"Am I?"

"Joel."

"Would I want to stare at you if I were mad at you?"

I knit my brows, "is that what's happening?"

He looks at me.

"You're looking at me cos I'm hot?" I raise my brows and motion, "I haven't showered in days."

"Neither have I."

"Trust me, I can tell."

A moment passes. I cross my arms, "Joel-"

"Fine," he sighs, "I'm still annoyed at what you did."

"Okay. Which one?" I pucker my lips in thought, "the screaming or the old man joke."

"What do you think?" Joel deadpans, crossing his arms.

I walk up toward him and grab my chin in fake thought, "hmmmm, the second one."

I stop when I am directly in front of him and lean close to his face, "I don't actually think you're a grandpa."

He blinks.

I chuckle and reach out to his face. I rub his cheeks with my thumb as I kiss him. For a moment, I can feel him melt against me. I feel it in how he sighs and leans closer. When he doesn't reach out for me, I pull away and huff at his furrowed brows. I will the tension away as I stroke them.

He really wasn't about to let this go.

Joe stands up straight only to lean his forehead against mine, "scream like that again, I'll make you scream then gag you."

With that, he pulls away and walks off. I just stand there.

"Come on," he calls, "I'm stuck with you tonight since Ellie doesn't want you sleeping next to her."

#joel miller fanfic #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #joel miller fic #the last of us #the last of us fanfic #the last of us fic #the last of us fluff #joel miller smut #the last of us x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fluff

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actual-changeling · 6 months ago

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Hi! I'm doing a rewatch of the x files and this is the first time I got so invested in MSR and I was wondering if you had some fic recs? there are so so many online I have no idea how to find the best ones lol I'm okay with explicit content btw thanks in advance!

Give me a few days and I'll make a more comprehensive masterpost but I can give you some good starting points!

Self-promo first, you can find me on ao3 and any tumblr-only ficlets under the tag #alex writes x files. My bookmarks are public and I save every single fic I read on there, so you can have a look through those if you want.

@today-in-fic this is the account to follow to get fresh fics on your dash. they simply reblog any TXF fanfics they get tagged in, so they're somewhat of an archive in by itself.

Writers plus general amazing TXF accounts

@msrafterdark if you don't mind smut then this one is a must!

@bakedbakermom // @sisterspooky1013 // @thursdayinspace

@randomfoggytiger (an absolute goldmine concerning everything MSR and TXF, especially when it comes to meta posts)

@television-overload // @baronessblixen // @thescullyphile

@deathsbestgirl // @scullysexual // @numinousmysteries

@fine-nephrit // @scullysflannel // @fossilizedhearts

@not-aliens // @julmunne

More Additions by @unremarkablehouse

@phillippadgettwrites (smut warning!)

@tatooedlaura-blog // @agent-troi // @katy-kt-katie

@thatfragilecapricorn30 // @slippinmickeys // @skelavender

@freckleslikestars // @gaycrouton // @cassiopeia462

@lotsoforangesoutside // @spookydarlablack

(Live) Episode Reaction & Rewatches

@enigmaticxbee @mulders-too-large-shirt

Other Specializations

Dana Scully Lookbook Project The X-Files Script Archive

AO3 author & fic recs

Sareki (author)

Thirty Five Hundred Miles And A Lifetime To Go

Long hours on the road and in the skies, how will Dana Scully and Fox Mulder fill the silence? What silence? A collection of road trip oneshots through their years together and the games they play..

The Modern Gateway Motel

After a traumatic experience, Mulder fabricated an X-file as a way to help Scully escape reality. Over the years, they returned to “investigate” that special place and take advantage of all it had to offer, exploring aspects of their relationship that they attempted to ignore in the real world. As time passed, it grew harder to confine the relationship they shared to that specific time and place.

Gradients

He didn’t want Scully in his bed so much as he wanted that last barrier gone. Sex seemed to be the demarcation for her, as she’d apparently decided that once that hurdle had been cleared, it would signal her complete surrender to him. As if she hadn’t already done that. As if he hadn’t with her a long time ago.

PLEASE feel free to leave your own additions (self promo explicitly welcomed) and I'll add them.

#alex answers asks #alex watches x files #txf #the x files #x files #dana scully #fox mulder #scully x mulder #mulder x scully #msr

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shewhohangsoutincemeteries · 1 year ago

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once again, we've reached a new year, and while I can't guarantee a new me who might actually release new fanfiction with some semblance of regularity, I can promise that I will keep writing and posting as often as my life allows. I want to thank all of you who read, like, respond and especially reblog my work, and I hope that you enjoy anything on this list you may of missed, and keep enjoying the new work I keep on posting. happy new year everyone!

full content warnings and content can be found on each individual post, and each fic is labelled for length. follow me on bartonstark to find all my fic in one place, or check out my ao3. smut/sexual content: *** personal favourites: ///

BRUCE BANNER:

interlude (ficlet) *** you steal a heated moment with bruce in the lab.

BUCKY BARNES:

keep quiet (ficlet) *** /// against his better judgement, bucky lets you seduce him in a public place.

warm embrace (ficlet) bucky takes pity on you in the cold.

CLINT BARTON:

appreciation (oneshot) *** /// you borrow clint's shirt and he shows you just how much he approves.

make your move (oneshot) /// you discover clint's real feelings for you and dare him to do something about it.

stay still (ficlet) clint comes to your aid after you're injured on the battlefield.

whatever you need (ficlet) *** /// after a mission gone wrong, clint gives you everything you need.

MARC SPECTOR:

bubble bath (ficlet) sometimes, self care includes bubbles.

starving (ficlet) *** marc has alternate plans for dinner.

NATASHA ROMANOFF:

smile (ficlet) you distract natasha in the middle of a meeting.

PETER QUILL:

chilly (ficlet) /// you're not quite used to just how cold it is in space.

rom-com moment (ficlet) *** even a storm can't convince quill to keep his hands -or his feelings- to himself.

STEVEN GRANT:

raindrops keep falling (ficlet) a busted umbrella leads to a meet cute.

TONY STARK:

downpour (ficlet) *** tony has his way with you against a window as you watch the rain.

favor (ficlet) you convince tony to finally get some rest.

ink (ficlet) you surprise tony when he finally comes home to you.

missed you (ficlet) tony wakes you up in the middle of the night.

most people (oneshot) /// tony can't believe you're the kind of person who doesn't like hugs.

pride (ficlet) *** tony takes a lot of pride in what he does to you.

voice of reason (ficlet) in a reversal of roles, tony's the one to convince you to go to bed.

waking up with you (ficlet) *** tony has only one thing on his mind in the mornings.

THREESOMES/POLYAMORY:

ladies first (clint barton x natasha romanoff x reader) *** /// natasha has strict rules when it comes to play.

plaything (tony stark x marc spector x reader) *** /// you invite an old boyfriend to help teach your new one a lesson.

SERIES:

just to be nearby (peter quill x reader) *** /// months after the battle of earth, peter is still wallowing in his loss of gamora. he begins to find comfort in you.

just to be nearby

closer still

to ashes chapters (full series, this year's chapters in bold) *** /// after the snap, you volunteer to track down clint and bring him home. instead, you join him on his mission for blood and find yourself growing closer to him... prologue - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20 - 21 - 22 - 23 - 24 - 25 - 26 - 27 - 28 - 29 - 30 - 31 - more coming soon

tag list: @lovely-dreamer19 @wittyforachange @wefracturedmotivation @january-echoes @glossyloner @capitalnineteen @youclickedthislink @s0ftness @castieltrash1 @drakelover78 @queenoftheunderdark @fandoms-pizza-wifi-ym13 @lol-you-thought @sebbystanlover-vk @trekkingaroundasgard @mikariell95 @csigeoblue @abrunettefangirlnerd @babyblues915 @aar-journey @moistpotatobear @bellamyblakemorley @diesinspanishbcimhispanic @sentimentalalien @agustdowney @akumune @xxboesefrauxx @ccbsrmsf1 @patheticallysentimental @loki-is-loved @blue-chup @darsynia @katsies @youralphawolf72 @maenji @rhymesmenagerie @gwianasky @melaclintbartoncorner @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @marvelwomen-simp @bombardia @bellarkeselection @hollymac79 @dragon-chica

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the-really-lonely-mountain · 10 months ago

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To Erebor - Part 4

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 5

Summary: Transported to Middle Earth, you must Join Thorin Oakenshield's Company as they travel to reclaim Erebor! OR: My take on the classic 'modern girl in Middle Earth' troupe. This is the second installment, so we are following the second movie of The Hobbit trilogy, and falling deeper in love with Kili on the way! This is the first part for the second movie.

Tags: Kili / Reader, Reader-Insert, Slow Burn, Modern Character in Middle Earth, During The Hobbit, How Do I Tag, Canon-Typical Violence, Kíli Is a Little Shit (Tolkien), implied soulmates, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Freeform, light smut, it's really just a brief description nothing too detailed, Holding Hands, Cuddling & Snuggling, Sleepy Cuddles, Protective Thorin Oakenshield Company Members, Dwalin & Thorin Oakenshield Friendship, Fluff and Humor, Domestic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Where In Middle-Earth Is Gandalf?, Hair Braiding, Dwarf Courting, My First Tumblr Fic, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fíli & Kíli & Thorin Live, Thorin Oakenshield Lives, Fíli Lives (Tolkien), Kíli Lives (Tolkien), this chapter is domestic as hell, sword fight training, kili is a big ole softy and i love him so much for it

Word Count: 4,977

A/N: Hey y'all!! It's been a crazy couple of months let me tell ya! good god! I've decided to finally post the next part of the story to tumblr despite it not having been beta read. I'll use you guys as my guinea pigs lol so if you see anything that doesn't make sense or is spelled wrong, I'm begging you to please tell me. I can't wait to hear what you think about my pride and joy! <3

Image credit: @iamjaynaemarie

Divider credit: @cafekitsune

The company climbed down the tall rock into the forest below. Having rested on the long flight over, everyone was prepared for a day of walking. Nothing notable happened except innocent conversation to pass the time and the forging of grapes with Bilbo for a snack.

The sun dipped closer to the horizon, casting long shadows through the trees. Thorin found a small river to make camp nearby. Gloin made the fire then Bombur started cooking the food. While the stew was being made, Fili and Kili practiced their swordsmanship under the watchful eyes of Thorin and Dwalin to provide guidance. The dwarves had found a log and brought it over beside the fire. You knelt in the grass on the fire’s side parallel to the log. The others were leaning against it on the opposite side, smoking pipes and making jokes and commentary about the training. You pulled out your thread spools and measured out the first color. You realized you didn’t have scissors and asked the merry gathering in front of you if they did.

“Nah lass,” Dori said, “Our weapons aren’t sharp enough to cut thread, they’ll only fray it” He kicked Nori to quiet him when he started to protest the quality of his weapons, “You’ll want to ask Thorin to borrow his sword.”

You swallowed thickly and looked over at the man in question where he stood with his arms crossed next to Dwalin. He always intimated you but approaching him alone to ask a favor made anxiety spike straight through you.

They were several feet away, but the clanging of metal was still quite loud. The brothers had removed their shirts, as men often did, to escape the insulated heat it provided. Not that you were complaining, eye candy is always welcome in a world of forests and furs.

You timidly approached the taller man as he instructed the brothers. You waited till they started fighting again to say in a shy voice: “Um Thorin?”

He glanced at you to acknowledge your inquisition, “Yes, what is it?” He sounded impatient.

“May I please borrow your sword?” You pointed to the weapon strapped to his side, ��I need it to cut some thread” You tried not to sound as scared and skittish as you felt. He looked at you blankly for a moment, surprised by your question.

Kili threw his brother back several feet, allowing him a few seconds to turn to you with a confident smile.

“Hey Y/N,” Kili said, making you and Thorin look at him. You couldn’t help but smile and sheepishly blush as you tried not to ogle his ripped upper body dripping in sweat.

“Hi Kili” you swayed back and forth a little without realizing it. Thorin took note of your fond reaction to his nephew.

Fili let out a mighty roar as he jumped on the back of his brother, taking advantage of his distraction. The dwarves on the log laughed and you giggled at them as they goaded each other on.

“I’ve got you now brother!” Fili triumphantly exclaimed.

“I think not!” Kili replied with a strong thrusting attack.

Thorin sighed, “Very well” He untied his sheathed sword from his belt and handed it to you. You thanked him and began walking back to your previous spot. He looked at the line of dwarves who were still chuckling lightly against the log, “Make sure she doesn’t kill herself” he said to them. They all nodded, including Balin who found this ironic remembering their conversation about leaving you in Rivendell. It would seem the dwarf king was taking a liking to you.

You kneeled, unsheathed the great Goblin Cleaver a few inches, and positioned the hilt between your knees, so it stayed standing on its spine. You measured 7 lengths of thread at about three feet and rubbed them against the fine elfin blade which cut them in one pass to make makeshift embroidery thread. You repeated that 5 times to end up with two groups of pink, two groups of blue, and one group of black thread. You did your best to keep them separated as you bunched them together to fold them in half and tie a loop at the end that you could hook onto a button of your coat. You sheathed the sword and returned it to Thorin knowing he wouldn’t like being without his weapon. You sat on the side of the log with everyone else and secured your coat in your lap so you could pull taught against the threads. You separated the threads and began knotting them over and across each other like how you learned to make friendship bracelets at summer camp. It gave your hands something to do as you sat idly watching the boys trash talk then turn serious and start fighting again.

“What are ya makin’ Y/N?” Ori asked as he watched you.

“I’m making a bracelet” You replied, pleased to see the others taking an interest in your crafting.

“Why’s that lass?” Bifur leaned over to see what you were doing exactly.

“So I can eventually make one for everyone else” You explained how it’s a tradition of sorts in your world to make bracelets for those you care about as a show of kinship and the enduring strength of your friendship and bond. “Since I can’t fight beside you all on the battlefield yet, I thought this could be another way I show my commitment to the company” You smiled at the group. You’d grown very fond of them during your travels and hoped they enjoyed your company as much as you did theirs.

“That’s a very sweet tradition, Y/N,” Balin said, “We look forward to receiving your gifts” The rest of the dwarves confirmed it with ‘Aye’s and a strong nod of the head.

“Supper!” Bombur called while stirring the pot. Everyone got in line except the training group who was going one last round. You all sat down in your previous spots along the log to see the finale of the night’s training.

You finished your dinner quickly so you could take advantage of the distracted troublemakers as well as the river on the other side of the hill. You grabbed your bag and told Gandalf you were going to the river to wash up. You knew he’d keep an eye on the dwarf who often followed you like a puppy and missed you when you weren’t by his side.

You see, Kili had to share most of his things with his brother; toys, motherly attention, food, and this included the women he was interested in. They usually fell for Fili because he was more mature, older, and looked more dwarfish than Kili who had very fine features for a dwarf and was five years younger than his brother. He initially assumed it would happen again with you, so when you didn’t show any interest in his brother, only in him, he couldn’t put into words how happy it made him.

At the river’s edge, you placed your bag and makeshift towel (your shirt from your old world) on a rock and took off your clothes. The water was chilly but nothing a sit by the fire couldn’t fix. You washed your hair and body with the elfish soap you got in Rivendell. As you rinsed in the steady current of the water your thoughts began to wander to what Gandalf said about your predicament.

You felt pulled to Kili, he brought comfort and calmness to a feeling you didn’t even know was in need. His smile and his laugh, every memory and moment you made and shared with the handsome prince of Erebor begged you to stay in Middle Earth.

It was decided then.

When you stood to squeeze the water from your hair you noticed the sun was beginning to set. The others would want to bathe too, or at the very least wash their hands. You dried off and dressed and took a deep breath to enjoy the welcomed privacy one last time.

You reappeared beside the wizard, “Thank you, Gandalf, that was very much needed” You sat next to him on the ground in front of the fire to warm up. “I may be traveling with brutes, but I needn’t smell like one” You joked. He chuckled over his pipe at this.

“I’ve decided to stay here Gandalf.” You informed him. “Something about this place is calling me to stay.” You needn’t tell him about the intense pull to Kili, right?

“Splendid my dear,” He smiled fondly at your decision. “I’m sure you’ll find Middle earth rather agreeable.”

You smiled up at him, happy to have his support.

The boys were still going at it. Kili was making a great effort, but Fili got the upper hand, making Kili’s sword fly out of his hand and sail through the air to stick in the ground. Kili kept fighting though, trying to get Fili’s sword from him. Fili had to force him to the ground with his arms pinned before Kili surrendered.

“Good job lads, good work,” Thorin said as he helped them up. Coins were exchanged against the log from the bets the company members made. The boys started walking towards their bags, but Kili swerved at the last moment to approach you. Your hair was still slightly damp from the river, so it was obvious you’d just bathed. Being the mischievous sweaty dirt-covered mess he was, Kili held his arms out to you for a hug. You watched him in horror as he continued to walk towards you.

“Ew, no Kili stop!” You held your hand up to stop him but to no avail.

“Awe Y/N, just one hug?” Kili pleaded with puppy dog eyes.

You quickly stood and laugh a little at his persistence, “Don’t you fucking dare!” you said and dashed away.

“Come on Y/N, no need to play hard to get!” Kili strained as he chased you around the log and back toward your bags.

“Aaahh!” You made a sharp turn to narrowly avoid a grimy Fili, who stepped in your path, the little shit. This closed the gap so Kili could grab your arm and pull you toward him.

“Nonononononono!” you pleaded as he wrapped his beefy arms around your shoulders, making sure to rub his sweaty dirty face against your hair and pet the side of your face with his equally dirty hand. “Kili!” you drew out the last syllable in complaint.

“You smell so good” He had the nerve to say.

“You smell like Ori’s unwashed socks!” You pushed at his chest still trying to get away. Everyone chuckled at this. “Get off me, ya big olaf” you managed to wriggle out of his grasp, “I’m not coming anywhere near you till you bathe,” you said dead serious, and pointed to the river.

“As you wish” Kili bowed with a smirk, he grabbed his bag on his way to the river to join his brother. You sat in your by the fire with a small smile that seemed permanent whenever you were around him.

You were working on your bracelet when the brothers returned. The sun had dipped below the horizon making darkness seep into the crevasses of the world. Kili sat behind you on the same long stone Gandalf was perched on and touched the ends of your miraculously dry hair (the elvish soap is magic idk). You stiffened at the unexpected but not necessarily unwelcome contact.

“Can I braid your hair Y/N?” he asked innocently as pink dusted his cheeks. You whipped around aggressively, pulling your hair out of his hand in the process.

“No cause you’re just going to get it all tangled and I’m going to have to spend all night brushing it out!” You weren’t looking forward to that, you thought he was just trying to prank you. Kili’s pout was as cute as ever.

“My dear,” Gandalf budded in before Kili could sulk away, “Braiding hair in dwarfish culture is similar to your tradition of making bracelets for friends, but they take it much more seriously.”

“How much more seriously?” You asked, intrigued about the nature of Kili proposition.

“It’s like…” The wizard took a draw from his pipe while he thought of the words to properly explain it to you, “asking someone to dance, it’s special and a more intimate way of getting to know someone.”

“So, like a date?” You tilted your head in question. You understood his analogy; braiding allows both people to show their level of craftsmanship and commitment, with the added benefit of practicality and looking very nice in the end when done with love and care.

“A bit” Gandalf smiled at your naiveite, “Just know our dear Kili is not trying to prank you when he asks to braid your hair, quite the opposite” He took another draw from his pipe and looked back at the fire.

“In that case, you may braid my hair Kee” You flipped your hair back over your shoulder. You couldn’t see the beaming smile that grew on his handsome face. You dug through your bag to find the hairbrush and other trinkets from Rivendell which you handed to Kili. He kept them in his lap while he brushed your hair. If he came across a knot, he was sure to be incredibly gentle. You enjoyed the physical contact and attention very much.

“Any requests?” He asked sounding confident in his abilities.

“Whatever you think would look best” You couldn’t help but smile a little.

He used your brush to part your hair down the middle. He started braiding at your nape closest to the part. After that you didn’t pay very much attention to what he was doing, instead just relished the experience.

He finished one side and secured it with a bead from your stash, “How’s that feel, too tight?”, he asked and adjusted pieces here and there to make it lay perfectly.

“It feels great!” You chirped happily. You reached a hand to feel what he’d done so far but he shooed it away.

“Not yet, you’ll ruin the surprise!” He started working on the other side.

By the time he was done, you were so relaxed you’d almost fallen asleep on his leg.

“Done!” he said, you could tell he was very pleased with his work, “How do you like it?” He sounded a bit nervous.

You ran your fingers over the braids, feeling how they turned and curved at certain points and went straight in others.

“Kili this is amazing!” You said, very happy with the state of your hair. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Thank you!” You looked back at him with a smile that was as big as his.

“I’m afraid I can't properly reciprocate though, I don’t know how to braid hair like this, I can only do normal braids.” You regretted never having learned how to French braid now more than ever. “If that’s how this works” You quickly corrected in a slight panic.

He was elated you wanted to return his deed at all, “That’s fine!” He tried not to sound too excited and be cool about it, “I can teach you if you want” he offered.

“I’d appreciate that!” You smiled.

You switched places, so he was sitting between your legs facing the fire. The position was innocent, but his thoughts were anything but. Images of your face beautifully contorted in pleasure from his tongue exploring your most private and intimate parts were most welcomed.

“May I take this out?” you lightly touched the silver clip that held his hair out of his face.

“Sure” He happily shrugged. You dug through his brown hair where the clasp was supposed to be, but your trembling hands couldn’t find it in all his hair.

After he heard you huffing and puffing and hadn’t felt his hair fall from the clip he asked in a soft voice, “Do you need help?”

“Yes,” you sighed, embarrassed you couldn’t even get a damn clip undone. He reached back, and struggled for a few seconds but undid the clasp, and handed it to you.

While you brushed his hair you thought of what you should do to it, or more what you could do with his hair given your limited abilities. You brushed through a few knots if any.

“I think I know what I want to try to do,” You touched the sides of his head just above his temple, “I want to do two small braids on the sides of your head, but I want the topmost part of your hair not to be braided.”

“Let’s try it!” He explained how you needed to part the hair and how to get started. You had his head lying against your thigh in an admittedly awkward and uncomfortable position, but he was quite the trooper. You had to restart the first braid three times but, in the end, he talked you through it and you tied it off with a bead.

“How did you learn to braid so well” you asked, struggling to grip all the pieces of the second braid properly and not pull the strands out of his head.

“My mother was insistent I learned. She knew my brother would have no trouble learning this facet of courting, but she feared I would spend all my time shooting arrows and never learn how to properly court girls.” He talked fondly of the memories, “So one summer when I was about to come of age, I came home from running amuck every day and she’d sit me down at her tapestry’s and make me braid the tassels that ran around the border.”

“Were you any good?” You asked curiously.

“Oh yes, I was very good! For a while, I was even better than Fili!” He was very proud of that.

“Why did he get better than you? Lean forward please,” you politely asked.

“He’s quite the lady’s man, so he had plenty of girls to practice on,” Kili sounded like that brought up memories that weren’t very pleasant. You finished the second braid with a bead like the first.

“Lay your head down for me again” You softly asked, gingerly guiding his head to lay against your other thigh, “Awe, baby Kili didn’t get any coochie did he” You fake pouted to tease him, gently scratching his scalp absentmindedly while you rested your neck for a moment. He liked it, more than he’d care to admit. “I’m in the same boat I’m afraid” You parted the other side of his hair.

“Oh? How so?” He was very surprised by this, “I’d have thought men were practically throwing themselves at you.” This made you laugh and blush.

“I’m awfully flattered you think that highly of me…” You took a moment to focus on a particularly difficult part, “But men from my world didn’t talk to me.”

“I find that completely unbelievable.” He was floored by this.

“I’m serious! I was never asked out on a date and the few times I asked for someone’s number they turned out to be self-centered losers with a ton of issues” You hated how much time you’d wasted on them. He couldn’t wrap his head around that and had to hold his tongue from proclaiming his thoughts of your perfection.

He turned to look at you despite your protests, “Then they are truly blind,” He couldn’t have been more sincere. His eyes blazed in the firelight with a mix of ferocity and sadness on your behalf.

“Thank you, Kee,” You smiled at him. He assumed his previous position so you could end the braid with a bead like the two before and then started on the last one, “And those silly girls are truly blind as well.” You wanted to kiss his slightly flushed cheek.

You were both in your own little world, where the troubles of the outside couldn’t get to you…or the onlookers and peanut gallery for that matter. Gandalf had moved to sit with the company who had been watching from across the fire on the other side of the log since Kili finished your first braid. They couldn’t quite hear your conversation, but they knew their beloved Kili was having the time of his life.

Fili was very proud of his brother. He talked about you all the time, was looking at you all the time; the man was whipped. Fili had to hear about you the entire time he was bathing, poor thing, and he finally got fed up with his brother not making a move.

“Kili, just ask to braid her hair for god’s sake” Fili huffed while he waited for his brother to finish in the river. Kili’s eyes lit up like a forge with the breath from bellows, and his face flushed like he did when he hammered out a new blade.

“I think I will,” Kili nodded, distracted by thoughts of engaging in such an informal and somewhat intimate act.

Thorin was very pleased you were trying to repay his nephew’s advances in equal measure. He’d seen the poor boy flounder with crushes in the past as he tended to be immature, and girls mistook that for uncaring and unable to provide. Something about you brought out the best in his nephew though, he’d never seen him act so mature, for this Thorin was willing to stay some of his distrust and pessimistic opinions about outsiders, at the very least about you.

By the time you finished the last braid, Kili had made himself very comfortable against your leg, with his arm wrapped around your calf, fidgeting with the laces of your boot. He looked so tranquil you hesitated to tell him you’d finished, not ready to leave the sanctuary you were in. You leaned back against your hand while you stared into the fire and gently scratched the nape of his neck.

He hummed half asleep, “Mmm that feels good,” His words were a little slurred, but it made him all the cuter.

You stayed like that till your bottom began to protest the hard rock beneath you. He was right on the cusp of sleep when you shook your leg beneath him, gentle with guilt.

“Kili, I gotta get up,” You softly tried to rouse him. He hummed in protest. “Besides, don’t you want to know how the braids turned out?” You admired your work with pride.

He sat up and stretched to wake his muscles then ran a hand over his new braids, “Wow Y/N! These are so good!” He looked back at you impressed, “You picked up on that fast!”

“Thanks, Kee!” You blushed as you ran a hand over the intricate lines in your hair, “They aren’t half as good as yours, but I think I did great for my first time” You smiled, pleased with yourself.

“Come show us!” someone from the log called, followed by various iterations of the same thing from others. Ever supportive, they were eager to see what you’d both made.

Kili stood and you followed him to the log. You turned so he could show off his creation. The dwarves were very impressed, a few coming up to inspect closer. When Kili turned to show your work, the company was even more impressed given it was your first time.

“Next time you’ll have to make beads for her, Kee” Fili teased making him and Bofur laugh at how Kili blushed.

“Make beads? What does that mean?” You asked the group in confusion.

“You’ll understand when the time comes,” Thorin said in an uncharacteristically happy tone. “For now, we shall rest” With that everyone began prepping their bedding for the night.

You laid your bed roll beside Kili’s like usual, but Bombur reminded you to clean the dishes before they were put away. Gandalf accompanied you so you could see with the light of his staff. Everyone was asleep when you returned to camp, except Thorin who was on watch.

When you sat on your bedroll, which was naturally next to Kili’s, he looked up at you, barely awake with a dopey smile.

“You look so pretty,” he said quietly, drawing out the last syllable of pretty. Red bloomed over your cheeks and down your neck. He loved your hair like that, he loved it even more that he was the one who did it.

“Go to sleep, Kee,” You whispered so you didn’t wake the others, but couldn’t help but smile as you lay on your bedroll next to him.

“But then I can’t look at you” He pouted, quite distraught about this revelation in his sleepy daze.

“Well, no, I suppose you can’t…” You nibbled your bottom lip as you thought of a solution, “Would holding hands appease you, sleepy prince?” you asked and held out the hand that wasn’t cuddling your coat to your chest. He was too out of it to catch your nickname for him. He nodded and held your hand in his, making both your hearts beat just a little faster.

You closed your eyes and rubbed your face against your coat to find a comfortable position. You could feel his eyes on you.

You opened your eyes to see him staring directly at you, “Good night, Kili” you said in a strong nonnegotiable tone.

He hummed and smiled and closed his eyes, “Good night, Y/N.”

~~~

Kili felt your hand grow tighter around his, drawing him from sleep. Then he felt you pulling against it like you were trying to alert him to danger in the camp without making a sound. He opened his eyes ready for war and saw no danger. He looked at you confused but realized you weren’t awake. You were whimpering and mumbling as your head thrashed from side to side.

‘She’s having a nightmare’ he quickly thought. He squeezed your hand and gently shook it.

“Y/N” He tried not to let his worry raise the volume of his voice, “Wake up.”

You didn’t respond, your mumbles turned into clear pleas for help, making him fret even more.

“Y/N!” He shook your shoulder vehemently, “You need to wake up” He had an urgency in his voice. You feebly fought against his hold on your shoulder.

“Please!” you gasped, still breaking from the nightmare when you opened your eyes, “No, please let go!” You begged and continued to push against his hand with tears in your eyes, not knowing who he was while sleep still clouded your vision and mind.

“Y/N, Y/N look at me” he moved his hand from your shoulder to the side of your neck and cheek to call your attention to him, “It was just a dream, you’re safe now.” When you met his eyes, he recognized just how rattled you were.

You were breathing rapidly, and tears were making your eyelashes sparkle in the firelight. He could feel your rapid heartbeat where his hand laid over your pulse point. He could tell you were beginning to wake up because you softly uttered his name and the hand that was fighting his on your neck gently wrapped around his wrist.

“You’re safe, I promise,” His eyebrows were pinched together in worry. You nodded and took a deep breath to try to keep the tears away. It’d been a very long time since you’d had a nightmare that bad.

Kili pulled your bedroll closer to his, “Come here,” He gave you a hug to comfort you, “Do you want to tell me about it?” he asked when you pulled back from the hug too look at him. You laid your head on his upper arm and kept your cuddle coat close to your chest.

“I-I was in a forest at night and there were goblins and orcs and Wargs coming to attack me and-” You were talking quickly, the bad dream still too real, “and I was all alone and I couldn’t defend myself…” You trailed off, the waver in your voice making it hard to talk. “I was so scared, Kili,” You tried to curl into yourself.

“Hey hey hey, look at me” He held the side of your face again, “You’re safe,” he said. You took a deep breath and nodded. “I’d never let anything happen to you, aye?” He promoted you to get you out of your head. You took another deep breath and nodded.

“I’m ok” you repeated “I’m ok.”

“Yes, there ya go!” He nodded, relieved you were coming around. His thumb swept over your cheek to wipe a tear. You took a few minutes to calm down. Kili was falling asleep, but he needed to know you were going to be ok.

“Thank you, Kee,” you said, your whispered voice no longer shaking with fear, he gave a hearty nod in reply before he yawned. His arm was going numb where your head was lying on it, but it was worth it when you rubbed your face against it to get comfortable as you did in that way, which he found utterly adorable. You appreciated the physical comfort you would have never had in your world.

“I’ll teach you how to fight tomorrow” he whispered over a yawn, his eyelids getting heavy again. He moved his hand from your neck to hang over your waist. He wanted to pull you into him, so you’d feel protected on all sides, not for any other selfish deeply personal reasons of course, but he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.

“I’d like that very much,” you smiled and watched as he fell back asleep, not snoring but breathing heavily in that way which you found so adorable. You felt safe with his hand on your waist and fell asleep not long after him with thoughts of training together dancing behind your eyes.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 5

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