#[ooc: hi guys its finally happening!!!]

[blackmesaflashbackepisode]

the wait is OVER.... benrey has been preparing very very hard for his big DEBUT on the BIGGEST SCREEN.... hopefully you will ENJOY... keep UP... because this story is gonna get CRAZY.....

chapter 7 will be having its WORLD PREMIERE on sunday, june 9, 2024, at 5pm est. be there... if you can HANDLE it......

[sunoflegend]

i love being obsessed with metalhawk and starscreams dynamic despite the fact it happens so early on in RID and he's barely a character who's there

[widowshill]

roger has the best "looking at vic with pure adoration" faces but vic's expression when she first finds out his wife is still alive / when laura comes back to town / when he brings back cassandra as his wife it's always just

🥺

[earthtooz]

x : NOT JEALOUS ! :*+ﾟ

in which: alhaitham isn't jealous, he doesn't get jealous, so what is this suffocating feeling in his chest that only happens when you're talking to another man that isn't him?

warnings: 5.4k words, jealous!alhaitham x gn!reader who has loads of rizz, university!au, fluff with angst but happy ending, pining!alhaitham who doesn't realise that he loves you, kaveh is there, mention of cyno, ooc at some bits?, swearing, alhaitham is a little bit of an asshole at some parts sawry. he's bad with feelings.

a/n: inspired by @danijaci's jealous jealous boy comic with alhaitham! hi dani if you're reading this pls don't perceive me... hides... but i hope you all like it :,)

Alhaitham isn’t jealous. 

The uncomfortable feeling obstructing itself in his throat is just because he’s beginning to develop a sore throat- that’s all. It is flu season after all, who knows what kind of bacteria are in the air? Ones capable of lathing an uncomfortable oil that burns inside his chest, the smog crowding its way into his heart, sickening him to his core as Alhaitham can’t help but eavesdrop on the conversation happening beside him.

“I’m free friday,” a voice besides you confirms.

“Okay!” you cheer, sounding a little too happy for Alhaitham’s liking. After all, it’s 9 am, who has this much energy in the morning? “lets do Friday then!”

“Sounds good, I’ll see you then. Bye Y/n.”

“Bye, see you!” Alhaitham watches from the corner of his eye as you wave to the random stranger you’ve decided to associate yourself with before finally taking the seat beside him with a sigh. 

He doesn’t say anything to you, feeling your eyes glance at him expectantly as he stares stubbornly at the lecture board instead of acknowledging you or the jumble of feelings clogging up his diaphragm. 

“Hello, you,” You lean over slightly, careful to not invade his personal space whilst waving at him, hoping to catch his attention. He glances at you, nodding in greeting before returning to his book, the pages and rows of words only fuelling his unease he suddenly felt. He doesn’t even know where he left off, the book’s events a blur in Alhaitham’s mind.

How bothersome. What’s happening to him?

“Talkative today, aren’t you?” Your tone is playful despite his cold attitude and Alhaitham sneaks another look in your direction, noting the way your lips curve upwards. “So, how are you?” 

“I’m fine,” he murmurs, inserting a bookmark between the pages before slamming it shut, an indicator that you could keep conversing with him.

“Cool.” You tap your nails on the desks of the lecture hall. “Oh, I finished my essay the other day.”

“The one for your elective?”

You hum in agreement, “I hope I never get it back. Submitted it ten minutes before the due date.”

“You know you wouldn’t have been stressed over it if you just started it earlier-”

“I know, I know,” you huff, “spare your productivity lectures for another time, I’ll be needing them later in the semester.” The grey-haired shakes his head as you laugh, but his gaze returns to the front cover of his book as he solemnly thinks about the interaction you had with another man, right in front of him. 

(What right did he have to see you smiling so earnestly like that?)

“Who was that?” Alhaitham coughs out, barely choking down his pride in time to make space for the question.

You murmur some guy’s name that he doesn’t bother to remember. “He’s a friend of mine in the same discussion group for this course and we decided to do the assignment together. He bumped into me on the way in so we were just planning when to meet to do the research.”

“Oh.” Your answer doesn’t calm the churning in Alhaitham’s gut. Not even one bit, in fact, it makes it worse. 

But it’s not jealousy, Alhaitham doesn’t get jealous because he’s above petty feelings of inadequacy. He’s merely concerned for you, worried for your brainpower by the end of the project because your partner seems less-than-incompetent. If you’d picked someone like Alhaitham (or better yet, just picked Alhaitham), you would’ve aced the class without even blinking an eye. 

(The two of you are friends, so why didn’t you pick him? It’s literally been proven that the two of you are compatible working together since you were both executives of Sumeru’s Cultural Society, and amidst all of the activities the club has run, you’ve collaborated many times to make each event run flawlessly. So why not him? Why would you pick another man over him?)

“You know you could have picked me, I wouldn’t mind working on the assignment with you,” he grumbles, words soft but very clear.

Alhaitham misses the way your eyes widen in shock as apologies scramble out of your mouth. “I’m sorry! I automatically assumed that you wanted to work on it by yourself. Next time I’ll ask you.” 

The lecture begins before he could say anything in return and like a robot, he sets his thoughts aside and begins listening, notes document up and cursor blinking at the ready.

A mundane two hours pass by, one powerpoint slide after powerpoint slide before the lecture is finally over, much to your pleasure. Alhaitham notices the way you eagerly jump out of your seat to stretch, grabbing your bag. On the other hand, your grey-haired accomplice takes his time in packing up, forcing you to wait for him.

“Would you like to get some coffee before the meeting?” You ask.

“Sure, we can find a seat there and join it together,” he adds and you beam at him, expression bright and so enchanting that it makes him forget about all the perplexities he felt before the lecture. 

The two of you make your way to one of the many campus cafés where you practically wrestled Alhaitham to stop him from paying for both your orders (losing in the end) before sitting at a booth, your laptop set up with a pair of Alhaitham’s earphones shared between you. The meeting begins to fill up with almost all committee members, even Kaveh, who resides in his room of his and Alhaitham’s shared flat. Upon noticing him, you go to text him, with the grey-haired peeking over your shoulder from time to time to see your conversation- not that he cares that much.

(Perhaps if Kaveh glanced up from his phone, then he’d see how close Alhaitham had gotten with you, breaching the distance that he prefers to keep around others. He’d also notice the headphone sharing despite how he generally tends to keep them out of anyone else’s hands.)

You’re tasked with the role of taking notes for the meeting since Alhaitham, in your opinion, is not at all a reliable scribe. His notes tend to just include vital information and never what everyone else needs to know, yet each time you scold him for it, his unbothered expression never falters, waving your complaints off with a shrug. 

“Hey, Kaveh and I are going to go for lunch tomorrow after our classes. Care to join?” You ask, smiling at him hopefully as your messages with Kaveh sit open on your screen. Alhaitham doesn’t think twice before agreeing. 

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“It looks like it’s about to rain,” you murmur, pulling out a chair as Alhaitham and Kaveh take their seats opposite you. 

“So it does,” Alhaitham notes, not caring to look too long out the window before returning his gaze to you. “You have an umbrella, right?”

“I, uh, didn’t think I needed one today.”

“Do you not check the weather before you leave?”

“Not everyone’s like you, Alhaitham.” Kaveh teases. “It’s no problem, Y/n, if it rains I can walk you back to your dorm.”

“Only if you are okay with it,” you insist, “I have no problem walking home in the rain. I love the rain.”

Alhaitham intervenes with a raise of his hand. “Nonsense, you’ll catch a cold. We’ll walk you home.”

A soft but genuine ‘thank you’ slips from your lips, neither of you wiser to the way Kaveh eyes his roommate suspiciously, not missing the use of ‘we’ in his sentence and the implications the collective pronoun has. For it meant that Alhaitham is willing to take precious time out of his day to perform an act for someone that he is not indebted to do. Not that Alhaitham is inherently selfish, per se, but he is a man of routine. He wakes up every morning and takes five minutes to scribble on his stupid whiteboard in the kitchen what he has to do for the day and strictly abides by it, not even straying two minutes off schedule.

Willingly volunteering his minutes? Kaveh finds that suspicious. 

“So, how’s your architecture assignment, Kaveh?” You ask, breaking the blond from his daze whilst Alhaitham pours glasses of water for the table, starting with your cup. 

“A nightmare,” he sighs, sinking into his chair. “I still have so much to do, you know my professor didn’t like my blueprint? How ridiculous! I hope that man steps in a puddle and wets his sock.”

The grey-haired pipes up with a remark. “I can’t wait for it to be done, our living room is a mess right now.” 

“Hey, I am the one that cleans that living room, thank you very much. Your bookshelf is still a mess even though I’ve asked you to clean it five times.”

“If it bothers you so much then why don’t you do it yourself?”

“I’m the only one who-”

“-I’m going to go to the bathroom,” you murmur, cutting the conversation before shuffling out of your chair, seemingly eager to do so.

Kaveh turns to the grey-haired again, “and you just scared away Y/n.”

“Sorry no one wants to hear about your architecture project.”

“Y/n literally asked, asshole.”

A rebuttal sits on the tip of Alhaitham’s tongue- as it always does when it comes to bickering with his roommate, but it dies out when an intruder comes to the table. “Excuse me, I hate to interrupt,” he begins, “but the person who just got up, is that your friend?”

“Yeah, why do you ask?”

“Oh, I just wanted to drop this off, mind passing it over for me?” The piece of paper he was holding lands in Kaveh’s hand. “Thanks, bro.” Is all he says before strolling away, out of sight but definitely not out of mind.

The blond does not hesitate to open it up, chuckling in amusement when reading the content. “’Hey you’re cute, here’s my number’ it says. What a bitch! You didn’t like his vibes either, right, Alhaitham?”

“Hold on, what does the note say?”

Grabbing (snatching) it from Kaveh, the grey-haired has half a mind to rip the note apart, a certain sense of distaste washing over him that intensifies the long he stares at the guy’s handwriting. His eye is twitching. Why is his eye twitching?

“Hey!” He hears Kaveh call. “Don’t scrunch it, that’s Y/n’s-“

Alhaitham stuffs the ball of paper into his bag where he’ll recycle it later even though something irrational within him tells him to burn it. “Y/n won’t miss it. You said it yourself, he’s a bitch.”

“Sure, but why are you doing-“

“Hey!” You interrupt, sliding back into your chair with a grin on your face. “So, what did I miss?”

“Nothing,” the grey-haired murmurs, assuming his crossed-arm position. Kaveh side eyes his roommate before agreeing with a hum. “Let’s order something now. We want to beat the rain, right?”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

This meeting for the Sumeru Society might have been one of the most important ones of the year thus far, with almost every committee member expected to attend. After all, the annual ball was a big event that always had the largest turnout, and the amount of planning that goes into it to ensure its success is almost triple that of its other events.

So why weren’t you here?

“Why did you leave the meeting early on Friday?” Alhaitham asks as soon as he sees you.

You pause briefly, eyes widening and eyebrows raising. It must have been the way that Alhaitham’s voice raised a pitch towards the end of the question, demonstrating a nervous break in character that was not at all typical. Cool and collected would be the defining words to describe Alhaitham, as well as someone who does not care for the menial activities of others, so what is he doing asking you? And why does he care so much?

“I, uh, had dinner with someone,” you confess, continuing to grab your books and laptop, missing the way his features contort into something un-cool, and very un-Alhaitham.

“Whom?”

You murmur the name of some other guy, who he vaguely recalls to be your project partner.

“What?” Alhaitham snaps.

“I didn’t think missing out on some of the meeting would be a big deal! I got another committee member to explain what I missed,” you justified. “Besides, there’s no big events going on right now, so I thought-”

“-That you could abandon your tasks and go have fun with someone else?”

Alhaitham’s not really sure why he said that. He’s not angry that you skipped a meeting; there are larger things in the world to worry about, he’s angry because you spent time with another guy that wasn’t him.Why not go to dinner with him instead? He spends it every night with Kaveh, and you are far more favourable than Kaveh.  

“Is it really something to get mad over? I already told you, I got the meeting notes and everything-”

“-You’re an executive of the society, Y/n, more is expected from you.”

“Seriously?” you ask, “how come you didn’t bat an eye when the vice president wasn’t there the other day?”

“Because she was sick.” 

“Okay, fine! what about the subcommittee? they’re not always there either!” 

“They’re subcom. Whether they miss a meeting or not is not crucial.”

“So, it’s just my business that you care about?” You ask, eyebrows furrowed, disbelief clouding over your expression like a mask.

Again, Alhaitham doesn’t know where these punches are coming from and why he’s throwing them against you so viciously, but his heart is tightening defensively with a burning emotion that he’s been feeling more and more recently, and his first instinct is to lash out, to protect himself from it.

Perhaps it’s because foreign things that he can’t understand terrify him and you, all you ever do is make him feel things that he’s never felt before and he can’t understand why. 

“You’re not that special.”

A flash of hurt gleams in your eyes and Alhaitham knows now that he’s royally fucked up. “You’re an ass,” you grumble, about to walk away when he intercepts.

“Listen to me!”

“Fuck off!” 

“Y/n-”

You’re gone before he can get another word out, retreating figure stomping away whilst his chest weaves into knots; something that no amount of deep breathing can calm. It doesn’t help that the minute he returns home, Kaveh is onto him like some sort of parasite, curious over the tense air surrounding his normally-composed roommate. 

“Hey, welcome home- whoa, what’s gotten into you?” The blond asks.

“None of your business,” Alhaitham grumbles through gritted teeth, taking his shoes off and throwing them aside haphazardly. Kaveh doesn’t miss the way Alhaitham’s jaw is clenched, or the strain in his hand when he brings up a hand to run through his hair, or the very subtle and minute twitch in his cheek.

The blond ignores all signs that he wants to be left alone, and instead, follows the grey-haired to his room after he swung the door open. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on, let’s talk about this-”

“Talk about what?” Alhaitham growls.

“Who pissed in your black coffee today?” 

“No one. Now get lost.” 

“Aw, come on, you know what they say. Getting things off your chest is always beneficial.”

“There’s nothing on my chest, go away.”

“You sure? no stress, no deadlines, no love interest making you tear your hair out-”

“-No, no, none of those!”

“Then what?”

Alhaitham steadies himself by resting his elbows on his thighs, hands clasped together as he exhales loudly. “I got pissed and took it out on Y/n, who’s mad at me now.”

“Huh? Why so annoyed?”

“Because Y/n went to dinner with another man.”

It’s silent for a while. The sassy quip that he expects from Kaveh does not happen. Instead, the blond merely smiles, a satisfied, knowing grin that slightly irks him. “You know, I’ve been waiting for the day you realise you have feelings for Y/n.” 

“What? Where did you get that conclusion from?” Alhaitham sits up straighter. There are a lot of things he knows, and he knows for sure that he does not like you in any way beyond platonic. He doesn’t have any time to spare for love. There are scholarships he still needs to apply for, internships to be interviewed for, research projects to submit- nowhere amongst the minute hand of the clock is there space for love. 

“Oh come on,” Kaveh sits down on the bed beside his roommate, leaning back on his hands. “You’re not as smooth as you hope to be sometimes.”

“I’m serious, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Y’know the sooner you accept you have feelings for Y/n, the easier life will be.”

“Life is already easy and there is no sooner because I don’t like Y/n like that. Now get lost. I have stuff I need to finish.”

Kaveh shrugs, standing up with a soft ‘suit yourself’, taking seven steps before he’s out of the room. Alhaitham lets out a sigh that has lodged itself in his throat for too long, and the feeling of reprieve he gets is short-lived before he’s flooded with a certain tightness again. Maybe he did have a weight on his chest after all, not that he’d ever admit it to himself or Kaveh.

He gets up from his made bed with a grunt and decides to push aside all distractions. Time is unforgiving, and if doesn’t finish his assignment by this Friday then he’ll be a little less than pleased.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Alhaitham feels like he can’t breathe. 

You’re sitting alone at a library desk, all focused and concentrated on your laptop screen with your headphones on, blocking out any outside voice as you type away. He wonders if he should say hi, maybe try apologising for the way he acted last Monday- who is this guy that’s approaching you and why does he look so familiar? 

And why are you smiling so happily?

You beckon to the seat beside you and the guy readily complies, taking the chair beside you like he belonged there, like there weren’t other candidates that should be there instead (he’s not talking about himself. definitely not).

He hands you one of two coffee cups he’s holding. What kind of right does this guy have to give you a coffee? Does he even know your order?

He feels like a bit of creep keenly watching you interact with someone else from a balcony of the library, but the book and laptop in front of him lies forgotten, and in a rare moment of weakness, Alhaitham can’t find it in himself to return to his tasks, pursuit of knowledge momentarily forgotten. He can’t push aside the bile that threatens to rise, he can’t loosen his grip on the couch’s armrest, and he can’t blink for a second in fear of losing you from his sight.

(You’re laughing. Why are you laughing? How can you look so pretty laughing and why doesn’t he ever get to make you laugh like this?)

Alhaitham is losing his damn mind. So much so that the first thing he does when he sees you again is corner you. 

“You shouldn’t talk to that guy anymore.”

You’re backed against the brick walls of the time-worn building that your shared lecture always takes place in, and Alhaitham, spotting you like a hawk, put you in this precarious position as soon as the two hours were over. 

He can’t breathe. It’s been almost three weeks since you last spoke to him and you’re staring up at him like you’ve done nothing wrong, blinking once and twice at his uncharacteristic display of subtle aggression. 

“Who?” you mutter, shaking your head to try and grasp reality once again. you hug your laptop closer to your body. “What’s this about?”

“I said you shouldn’t talk to that guy anymore.” 

“What guy?” 

“Your project partner.”

“Really?” you mutter in disbelief.

He nods, teal eyes shining at you firmly. “Really. The project’s over, you don’t need to talk to him anymore.” 

“I don’t recall ever giving you the right to dictate who gets to be in my life or not, just like how you can’t tell me what to do with my time.” 

“I’m looking out for you, so stop trying to make me sound tyrannical.” 

Your mouth hangs open as you furrow your eyebrows, growing more and more frustrated with each second. So much for thinking that he wanted to resolve the awkwardness between the two of you. “I’m not even going to argue with you,” you murmur a quick ‘jerk’ under your breath before brushing past him. 

Alhaitham, however, is not willing to let you go as easily as you wish, quick to chase after you. Not that you go far anyways, turning around to face him again in the spaciousness of the vacant hallway. “Why do you care?” You ask, exasperated. “You’re Alhaitham, you don’t let trivial things like who I hangout with bother you, you’re cool and collected and rational, and I just don’t understand why you’re acting like this.”

He doesn’t understand either, not the erratic beating of his heart, the stubbornness of his mind, nor this undisputable urge to keep you all to himself. Is it normal to want to hide someone for selfish reasons?

Trailing off, Alhaitham is slightly humiliated that for the first time in his life, someone has witnessed him coming short of an answer. No logical conclusion, no explanation, not even a satisfying quip, just plain, suffocating silence.

“Right. When you do have an answer, let me know.” You walk away.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Your last rebuttal still weighs heavily on Alhaitham’s mind, even two days later as he and Kaveh are seated for a lecture in a shared course. His thoughts are scrambled like never before, the messiness of it all making him feel uneasy because for once, he doesn’t have an appropriate answer to a question.

Why was he acting like a temperamental teenager? What you did with your life was up to you, and indeed he has no right trying to change that. More importantly, why was it so hard to apologise for the stuff he said-

“So, how’s everything between you and Y/n?” 

Kaveh turns to him with widened eyes whilst Alhaitham’s poker face doesn’t move an inch, deceivingly apathetic.

“Good, we’ve been hanging out a lot more recently,” the other guy says, who Alhaitham quickly recognises to be your project partner and distaste rises in his stomach like bile. 

“Aye, good for you, man! So when are you going to ask Y/n out?”

“No way, bro, not yet. I’m such a wimp, but I hope I grow the balls to ask soon because I really like-”

“-looks like you got some competition!” The blond nudges Alhaitham, and if it were anyone else, they would not have glanced twice at the grey-haired who seemed unmoving and uninterested. However, Kaveh is not anyone else because he noticed the darkened look in Alhaitham’s eyes instantly, anger seeping into his composed gaze as his nose scrunches in disgust. 

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“So, you and Alhaitham still aren’t talking?” Kaveh asks, leaning on the table of the restaurant with curious ears, hoping that he can grab some answers out of you as to why there was a stalemate between you and his roommate.

“Nope,” you sigh. 

“Why not?”

“I’m just-” you pinch the bridge of your nose, “I’m just waiting on an apology from him.”

“An apology? Why? What did he say?”

“He didn’t tell you?”

“You know how he is. Always insufferably secretive, so no, I don’t know anything that happened.” 

“Alhaitham just said some hurtful things to me, and he was being weird when I told him I was going to dinner with a friend of mine. Just kept being in my business.”

“Really?” The architecture student quirks a brow, confusion plastered on his face. “That’s not like Alhaitham at all.”

“I know, right? He kept trying to be like ‘don’t hang out with him’ and ridiculed me for not playing my part as an executive of the Sumeru society,” you complained, “like sorry I have other things I want to do.”

Kaveh nods in understanding as the conversation briefly stops when the waiter comes to drop off utensils at your table. As soon as they were gone, however, you begin again.

“And even though he was all up in my business, trying to tell me what not to do, he then said that I wasn’t special, which is so confusing because like-”

“-hold on. Alhaitham said that you weren’t special?” You nod at his parroted claim. “To him?” 

“Yeah. Stung like shit when he said that, especially since I thought we were friends but guess not,” you murmur sadly, fiddling with the fork.

Later that night, almost immediately after meeting you over dinner, Kaveh barges into his roommate’s room, not even changing out of his outside clothes. The sudden intrusion shocks Alhaitham who was busy typing on a document, textbook splayed open beneath him but momentarily forgotten as the blond takes a seat on the bed.

“What the- not even a hello?” The grey-haired asks, confused by this uncharacteristic silence of Kaveh’s. It’s pretty normal for the blond to barge into his room without notice, but it was not normal for him to be so quiet, practically brooding on the mattress. “Whatever. Where have you been? Have you eaten yet, because I made-”

“When will you just confess to Y/n?”

The mention of your name causes a spike in Alhaitham’s heartbeat and he swivels around instantly, attention fully directed towards his roommate. “Where is this coming from?”

“Y/n told me everything that happened between you two by the way-”

“-what, when?”

“Tonight, we just met for dinner.”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“What would you have done if you knew? Showed up and made things worse?” He doesn’t say anything in retaliation, merely shutting his mouth and furrowing his eyebrows. “Why did you say that Y/n wasn’t special to you?” 

“I didn’t,” Alhaitham sighs, very loud and very perplexed. “I didn’t mean for it to come out the way it did.”

“Don’t you miss Y/n? You two used to hangout so often.”

“I do, of course I do!” He exclaims, burrowing his face in his hands. 

“So why aren’t you apologising?” 

“Because whenever I’m around Y/n, I’m not who I normally am,” he mutters, “especially everything whenever that project partner is around-”

“Jealous, much?”

“I’m not jealous.”

“Oh come on, you’re ridiculous. Stop pushing away your feelings and just be honest with yourself, Alhaitham! Y/n is not just a friend to you and you know it.”

“But, we are just friends-”

“So you mean to tell me that if I hung out with someone else- like if I hung out with Cyno, you would be pissed?”

“What? No, of course not.”

“Then why is it different with Y/n?” Once again, Alhaitham doesn’t have an answer to the question, sitting as still as a statue hunched over his desk. “Fine, I’ll spell it out to you. You like Y/n, more than just a friend!”

The silence leftover from Kaveh’s outburst is tense and full as the grey-haired lets the words sink in. 

“I’ll let you think about it,” the blond murmurs, voice softening dramatically as he stalks out of the room. Before he closes the door, however, he leaves a few final words. “Just- be honest with yourself, Alhaitham, and I wouldn’t delay trying to talk to Y/n.”

A sharp click rings through the room.

Alhaitham is no stranger to being alone, for who needs the company of others when you are happiest by yourself? Yet, in the weeks that you have not been speaking to him, a cardinal urge as been growing each and each day, wanting him to do something so atypical of him: to reach out and make the first move. Every passing day doesn’t lessen the thoughts that plague his mind, rather, they make him more and more impatient, because what if you get swept away by your project partner? 

(What if he’ll be too late? What if you won’t know of these powerful emotions that are steering through the storm in his heart? What if you won’t know just how badly he was been wanting you- wanting to see you, wanting to apologise, wanting to see you beam at him like you always would.

What if you won’t know that he adores you, especially now that he’s figured it out?).

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

A rain droplet falls and lands on your nose, another lands on your forehead, then another lands on your lip then more and more keep falling from the cloudy sky, falling through the leaves and landing on the bench you were currently sitting on. Goodness, you should have checked the weather before leaving your dorm. Why was it now out of all times that it had to rain, what would Alhaitham think after he finally decided to reach out to talk?

Taking your phone out to message the grey-haired about relocating, an umbrella is suddenly held over you, stopping the gentle drizzle from falling onto you. Looking up, you’re greeted by a familiar face that you have been missing too much recently.

“Hello, you,” you breathe, voice gentle and quiet and Alhaitham feels like he can finally breathe after so long, the scent of rain washing away all perplexion.

He nods at you in greeting before offering you the bouquet of flowers he was holding. A gorgeous arrangement of pink of white stare prettily at you and a man even more gorgeous expects you to accept it.

“For me?” You ask.

“For you.”

“Thank you, they’re so beautiful,” you take his gift with gentle hands, holding it close to your chest. 

“I want to apologise,” he firmly states, getting straight to the point; very Alhaitham of him. “For treating you the way I have been recently.”

You beam at him, so bright and so gorgeous that it renders him speechless, a feat pretty difficult when it comes to someone like Alhaitham who has a whole dictionary of words, in multiple languages too. Somehow, they all flock out of his mind the second you smile at him.  

“I accept your apology, thank you for reaching out, must have been hard for someone like you, huh?” You tease, standing up from the bench.

“Well, I had do for someone as special as you.” The grey-haired’s voice is deceivingly confident and assured, but you know better, especially when he looks away to hide his expression with his neatly styled bangs. 

“No need for the flattery, you know, I’ve already forgiven you.” There’s a moment of silence that occupies the air, caused by Alhaitham’s hesitation as he fishes his brain for the courage to ask you out. You speak before he can get a word out, however. “I got asked out the other day.”

“By your groupmate?”

“He has a name, you know, but, yeah. I rejected him, though,” you laugh awkwardly, almost like you were trying to cope with it by playing it off. “Did you know that he would do that?” 

“Yes. I did.”

“Is that why you were so adamant on me not hanging out with him?”

“I guess you could say that. We can talk more about it another time,” he tells you, voice gentle and caring to mask the subtle hit of jealousy he feels in his chest, scolding himself for letting someone else confess to you before him. However, it’s a minute sensation in comparison to the triumph Alhaitham feels knowing that you rejected the other party. 

“We have a lot to talk about, don’t we?”

“We do, but I want to ask you something first.” 

You nod, hugging the bouquet closer to your chest, anticipation heavy in the air as you spur him to continue. 

“If I asked you out, would you reject me too?”

A mere second passes by where you don’t respond, yet the second stretches out to what feels like eternity as Alhaitham’s stomach churns. Patience is something he doesn’t lack, but how can he be patient when his heart wants you so bad? 

Then, you take his hand, and the heavens sing at the feeling of your hand in his. “I wouldn’t, but are you asking me out?”

“Are you free right now?”

“I am. Why?”

“Let’s go out then. On a date.”

“I'd love to.” You rise up to place a lingering kiss on his cheek, one that has his heart racing with joy rather than frustration.

The smile you earn is gentle, shy, but says more than Alhaitham's words ever can.

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[zayneslady]

summary: it's been a while since the last time you saw him, but you missed him so terribly.

warnings: angst/comfort. Happy endings for the win *sobs* Pt. 2 of these scenarios

characters: Zayne, Rafayel, Xavier x reader (separately)

a/n: I wanted to apologize. I got some comments saying that perhaps I wrote them a bit too ooc and that they wouldn't do something like this, so I was thinking maybe I should step out from writing these; I'm probably not understanding the characters very well. I'm really sorry! I had this one written already, so this is probably going to be the last post I make! Thank you for your support! In only a couple of days you guys were so amazing and loving, I'm super moved and I don't deserve you all at all ❤️

classification: scenarios

tag list: many of you asked me to tag you in the second part, I hope you guys like it! 💕

@biitchyberry @rosaryia @lcheerymotion @mo0nforme

ZAYNE ❄️

It's been four weeks since your argument with Zayne. The first days had been like hell. You had already tasted the honey of a relationship with the person you liked the most and loved the most. You wanted more of him, you needed more. You felt anxious without him, like you had become addicted to his kisses, his gentle touch, and the sweet words he whispered in your ears. You missed him more than you dared to admit.

The days passed slowly, each second seemed to last an eternity. When you got home you felt the emptiness of his presence and you felt like dying, but life continued on, and eventually you got used to being without him. The pain was still present, but more bearable as time kept its course. 

You had stopped frequenting the places you knew he liked for fear of running into him. The dessert shop, the cafe near the hospital, the night stands near the library. You even avoided getting sick so you wouldn't have to go to the hospital. Your life was limited to going to work and coming straight home, with occasional visits to buy groceries. 

You would never have thought that you would have to live a life again without Zayne and only because he didn't know how to separate his friendships from his romantic partner. So smart, but so stupid at the same time. 

You sighed, returning to the present and the food you were making; it was too late when you realized it, but unconsciously you were making one of his favorite dishes. You weren't going to waste the food, so you just carried on trying not to think much about it. 

“Now, where did I put–,” you stopped, surprised by the sudden knocking on your door. You frowned, you were not expecting anyone, but the knocking continued once more and you sighed, turned off the stove. “I'm coming.”

You regretted opening the door. Opening just a crack to see who it was, your heart fluttered in your chest as if there was a small caged bird inside it. Zayne was standing in front of you. He looked ridiculously tired, more than you'd ever seen him. The bags and dark circles under his eyes were deep, his skin did not look radiant and healthy as always and his eyes did not shine like emeralds. 

Your hands were sweating and your insides were churning. "Are you okay?" You asked with a broken voice. Zayne shook his head and he fainted, but with a gasp, you quickly wrapped an arm around his waist and tried to keep him upright. “Zayne! Hey, what's happening?” 

Zayne didn't answer you, and just leaned on you. Not knowing what to do, you dragged him inside and carefully guided him to your room. Once there, you laid him down on your bed, he looked weak. 

“Zayne? Can you hear me? Are you okay?” 

He mumbled your name and your heart raced. “I'm… I am sorry,” he said as he finally passed out. You gasped, but soon heard the soft snores you were so used to. 

Was he that exhausted? And what was he doing at your house? You frowned, fighting back the stinging sensation in your eyes as you tried to hold back some tears. He really always appeared to stir everything inside you. You had already accepted your life without him, but here he was. You sighed heavily, taking off Zayne's shoes and covering him with a blanket.

Your eyes couldn't help but admire him. Even though he was tired, he still looked as handsome as ever. It seemed like a dream, an illusion that would disappear at any moment. You wanted it to happen. You wanted him to disappear, but at the same time, you wanted to take him in your arms and kiss his face. But no, clearing your throat, you grabbed an extra blanket and left the room, closing the door behind you. It was better to let him rest so he could leave as soon as he got up. 

The next morning you woke up to soft steps. Sitting up and whining a little after sleeping on the couch, you saw Zayne coming out from your bedroom. His hair was messy and he was rubbing one of his eyes like a little child, something warm spread across your chest and a smile tried to spread your lips, but you stopped it. He seemed more rested, the bags under his eyes had diminished considerably and his skin looked a little more alive. 

“Zayne.”

He seemed a bit startled as he looked at you with slightly wide eyes. “Hello… I am sorry I fell asleep.” 

You hummed, folding the blanket. “Haven't you been sleeping well?" You didn't want to sound worried, but you were. 

“I haven't… I constantly have nightmares and I've been working over time… a lot more."

“Why?”

“Because I can't stop thinking about you,” he said and despair filled his eyes. “You have no idea how much I've missed you. I can't sleep, I can't eat, I have been working nonstop so I can have my mind occupied, but you're always there, in the back of my head.” 

Don't cry. Don't cry! 

“And what exactly do you want me to do about it, Zayne?” You said coldly, wanting to get over with this. 

Zayne approached you and you couldn't move as he took your hands. “Please, please. Give me another chance. I swear. I swear in my life that I do not have feelings for her. I just… I was just stupid and took you for granted. Please, my love, please.”

Tears began to well up in your eyes and you cried even harder as Zayne grabbed your face. "N-No, don't touch me.”

“Please. How can I show you I truly want you? Do you want me to stop talking to her? I'll do it. I'll do it, so please. Just… please. I can't live without you.” His words sounded sincere.

His eyes were glassy and the pain on his face was evident, but your heart still hurt. How did you know that he really wouldn't leave you as a second option anymore? You couldn't even tell him to stop talking to Miss Hunter, you knew this was just Zayne's fault. 

“Zayne… Zayne you're hurting me so much.”

“I know. I know I am and I am terribly sorry for this. I love you. I truly love you.” 

You also loved him, so much. 

“... If this ever happens again, Zayne… I won't forgive you another time. Remember that.”

His green eyes shone with happiness as he pulled you into a tight hug. You hugged him back, the tips of your fingers tingling as you felt his warmth, the tip of your nose digging into the crook of his neck, you breathed deeply, enjoying his scent. 

“You're on trial, Zayne.”

Zayne chuckled and he nodded. “Yes. You won't regret me, I promise you.”

RAFAYEL 🐠

Life was boring without him. He was the spark and the spice in your days. With him, every day seemed like a small adventure, but now that you no longer saw him, the days seemed dark and lifeless. You didn't even remember how much time had passed since that day. One week? Three days? Two months? You weren't sure and, honestly, you tried not to think about it too much because, even though you missed him, the pang of pain in your heart almost made you gasp for air every single time you recalled every moment with him. It was almost as if his bodyguard had also been there, on every date with Rafayel, for all of your conversations were about her. 

He was full of praise for her. He named each of her virtues and laughed affectionately at her defects. He didn't accept anyone claiming that they were better than her or stronger, because his precious bodyguard was the strongest and the bestest. Just thinking about it made you feel tears filling your eyes. You didn't want to remember any of it, but as you held your phone with your thumb hovering over the dial button, you couldn't stop thinking about how miserable Rafayel made you feel, even when he also made you feel like the most loved person in the world. 

When he didn't have his mouth full of his wonderful bodyguard, Rafayel showered you with affection. His kisses, his hugs, and his caresses all felt full of love and tenderness. His beautiful eyes looked at you sweetly, as if you were the most precious thing that ever existed on earth. He liked to tease you and make you laugh and he always said that you were like a muse for all his paintings: The sparkle in your eyes, the color of your hair, the texture of your skin, the curves of your body, everything was inspiration.

How could he be so cruel and loving all at the same time? Poor bodyguard, you even didn't like her although she hadn't done anything wrong, as far as you knew. 

Sighing, you finally tapped on the green button and your heart raced faster and faster at every beep coming from the other side of the line. Would he answer you? Was he… with her? Was he busy with one of his paintings? What if- 

His voice calling your name surprised you, making you jump. “I’m here! Hi!” he sounded out of breath and your cheeks blushed. “Hmm, h-how are you d-doing?” 

“Rafayel…,” you took a deep breath. “I… have some clothes at your place. Could I stop by later to get them?” 

“YES! I… I mean… yes. I'll- I'll be here all day. You can stop by at any time you want.”

“... Right. Then, see you there, Rafayel.” 

You let out a long sigh after hanging up. You had forgotten how wonderful his voice was and the way he pronounced your name. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach. You were going to see him, you were really going to come again, but you shouldn't be excited. What if he and his bodyguard were dating? The thought made your stomach twist and you decided it was best to leave immediately. The quicker you finish this, the better. 

As always, the door was open, but you didn't immediately enter, your hands were shaking and your heart was racing against your ribcage. You didn't want to see him.

Taking a deep breath, you gently pushed the door open and you were greeted with that aroma that you had missed so much. The smell of acrylic paint, the sea and Rafayel's scent. You couldn't help but take a long breath- this exquisite smell felt like home. Your eyes watered a little, but you tried to stay calm as you walked deeper into the spacious house.

“R-Rafayel? Are you here? "You heard a gasp from the room and in a second, Rafayel appeared in front of you. Ah, he looked as wonderful and beautiful as always. His gorgeous eyes were wide, looking you up and down as his mouth stretched into a shy smile. You wanted to hug him. “The door… was open so I just- I'm sorry.”

“No! That's okay! I… I left it open for you!” 

You nodded. “I see… do you mind if I just…”

“No, go ahead, please.” You excuse yourself as you made your way to his room, as you passed by him you felt your legs tremble and you gasped in surprise when he suddenly took your hand.

“Rafayel, what-

“Please, forgive me,” he begged, his eyebrows furrowed in a painful expression. “I was absolutely wrong, you were so right. I was stupid and careless and hurt you so badly.”

“Rafayel… I just came for my clothing, let me g-

“Please!” He hugged you and you went stiff. “Please, please,” he sobbed in your ear. 

“Are you crying?” 

He nodded. “I can't live another second without you. I can't paint anymore. I feel like a piece of me has been taken away, I live half and barely. I really, really do not have feelings for my bodyguard. You're the only one I can think about.”

“Then why- 

“I just… I was just stupid, I didn't mean anything to hurt you, I swear! When I said I missed her, what I wanted to say is that I wanted to train with her, I would never make you train, that's too dangerous,” he started to explain in a rush. “When I told you about the candies, it's because she gave me some amazing chocolate I wanted to gift you and then-

“Rafayel-

“Please. Just this once, I swear,” he said, finally showing his reddened face, tears streaming down his face. You gulped, reaching up to clean his tears away and he whined. “I wasn't there to wipe your tears, I am so sorry.” 

That made you burst into tears. That's right, you really wanted him to wipe your tears. He gently cupped your cheeks and his thumbs brushed against your cheeks, catching all of those tears falling from your pretty eyes. 

“You can break up with me if I do something like that again! But please… just this once. I love you so much. I really do.” 

You looked at him, His eyes were still wet and some tears were still falling down his cheeks. Maybe…

“Just this once, Rafayel… I won't forgive anything like this ever again.” He beamed and leaned down to capture your lips in a kiss, but you covered his mouth, frowning slightly. “I'm still mad at you.”

He blinked and gently smiled behind your hand before taking it in his. “Of course, I'll prove myself to you, beautiful creation.” 

XAVIER ⭐

You couldn't sleep. It's been two weeks since you last slept properly. Two weeks ago you were in Xavier's arms and he held you lovingly, whispering words of comfort in your ears. You weren't sure why, but being around Xavier always made you feel relaxed, a little sleepy, but never bored. You loved spending lazy times with him, taking naps and frolicking in bed, giggling like fools and giving each other soft, tender kisses. 

With his warmth and love it was not difficult to fall asleep at night, he always wanted to sleep so that tranquility that emanated from him was enough to relax you and make you sleep throughout the whole night. In the mornings you felt rejuvenated and full of life and seeing his sleepy smile was like living in a dream. 

You felt your bottom lip quiver into a pout. You missed him too much. You never thought he would behave that way. Had you never really been important to him? If he wanted to be with his partner so much, why had he even agreed to go out with you in the first place? 

“Agh! I hate you Xavier!” You cried, banging your fists against the table in your kitchen. “Why did you let me fall in love with you?” Maybe you really had gone crazy, talking to the table like that. 

There was no time for this. It was almost dark and you still needed to go buy some groceries for your dinner. You struggled out of your house, so tired and dragging your feet. You wanted to sleep... with Xavier. You wanted to feel his warmth. But... what if he now wrapped his partner in his arms? Your cheeks turned red and, trying to avoid thinking about it, you hurried to catch the bus. 

You found a seat near the door and next to a young man, there weren't as many people as you imagined and as the bus started to go you felt your eyes heavy. Maybe... you could sleep for a few minutes? The store wasn't far away, so just a few minutes... just a couple of minutes… 

You heard your name being called between clouds. From far away. Over and over and over. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. 

“Hmm?” You opened your eyes and gasped, How long had it been?! Where were you? And... why was your head...? Had you fallen asleep on someone's shoulder?! "Oh my God, I'm so sorry!" You said, raising your head only to find that the young man next to you... "Xavier?!" 

The hunter blinked, his eyes avoided yours for a second before looking directly at you and nodding a small greeting. Had he been there next to you the whole time? You could barely notice what was happening around you with how tired you were, but, strangely, you felt very good. It seemed like he really was the cure for all your ills. You chuckled softly, shaking your head. Xavier looked at you confused, tilting his head to the side like a little bird. 

“I'm sorry, Xavier. I didn't know you were there,” you jumped, “but wait, where are we?!” Checking outside the window, you could tell you were far away from the store now. 

“We're almost at my place,” he said gently and the alarms in your head set off. His partner... didn't she live in the apartment below?! Oh no. Before, you had no problem staying at Xavier's house, but... if they were really in a relationship…

“I gotta go,” you said, seeing the next bus station. It was already dark outside.

“Where are you going?” Xavier asked and you frowned.

“What do you mean? Back home. I only wanted to go to the store, but I fell asleep as you could see… Now it's even dark. Thankfully it's not raining,” you were babbling to yourself as you waited to arrive at the next stop, when you finally did, you got up. “Sorry about that, Xavier. Goodnight.” 

"Now... The next bus…," you mumbled checking the bus's schedule. "10 minutes? Lucky~"

“I'll go with you.” 

You couldn't help but squeal and jump when you heard his voice right behind you. Turning around, you saw him standing there, as tall as he was and as bright as the stars. 

“I'll take you home. It's dark. Something could happen.”

You rolled your eyes. "What could happen, I'm only going home.” 

“Some witnesses have seen wanderers in the area. I can't let you go alone." 

You sat on the bench, arms crossed, Xavier sitting next to you. "Ah, that's true. I'm not strong like your... Forget it." Your cheeks turned red. Very well! Keep opening your big mouth! Xavier didn't say anything, but you could feel his gaze on you and the blush on your cheeks traveled to the tips of your ears. 

Silence reigned between you. You could feel him, his warmth, he was so close to you, you could reach out and touch his knee. Your eyes felt heavy, you wanted to hug him. 

“I am sorry,” he suddenly said and you thought you imagined it but then he repeated it. “I am sorry for what I said the other day.” You turned to look at him and flinched when he saw his bright eyes looking sad and red. “I don't know what I was thinking. Talking like that in front of my girlfriend. Acting like I didn't want to have been there with you, but you're the only person I want close to me. I don't like nor have feelings for my coworker, I only want and need you.” 

He gently wiped a tear from your rosy cheek, his touch was electrifying. 

“You haven't been sleeping well.” You didn't answer, but he continued. “I haven't been able to sleep either. I keep recalling that day and seeing your crying face, I can't stand it… please forgive me.” 

He took your hands and you finally looked up at him, your eyes widening as you saw a small tear fall down his cheek. 

“I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I still beg you, I beg you to give me another chance. I promise I'll do better. Something like this will never happen again. I was an idiot." 

You frowned, “you were an idiot. Do you have any idea how you made me feel? It's hard to believe you love me.” 

He nodded, listening to you carefully. “I know it's hard to believe, but please let me prove it to you, let me show you how much I love you, please. I can't be without you anymore, my star. I need you, otherwise I'll go crazy. Please.” 

You sobbed and Xavier gently pulled you close to him. Wrapping you between his warm arms. You tried to pull away, but he didn't let you and soon you melted in his embrace, crying into his work clothes. 

“Please, give me another chance.” 

You nodded softly. Just one more chance. “There's not gonna be a second time,” you warned between sobs and he chuckled, kissing the top of your head. 

“I won't need them. I will treasure you as the most valuable thing that you are. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” 

[gicosmo]

When They Neglect You Pt.1

One Piece Men(Luffy, Shanks, Mihawk, Corazon)

Warnings: Neglect, A bit a toxicity on Mihawk’s part, Corazon being a stressed, Doflamingo(he deserves his own warning), Just overall angst for this first part :((

This is my first time writing for One Piece characters lol. I’m sorry if any of them are ooc😔Part 2

Luffy

You knew Luffy would never intentionally ignore you. Let alone neglect the whole relationship. But that didn’t stop the pang in your chest when you realized you weren’t spending as much time with him.

Walking around on an island, the town was bustling with people. The crew finally had some air to breathe after continuous battles. Finally, you thought you had a chance to be close with your boyfriend again. Reaching for his hand to hold, he suddenly stops, snatching his hand away from yours.

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t hurt your feelings. It hurt. A lot.

“Looks like we’re fighting again.” Luffy chuckles, cracking his knuckles with a sly smile. Zoro huffed, readying his sword by his side. Sanji sighed, “Do we ever catch a break?”

“Luffy—”

“Sorry! Not now!” Luffy replied ever so quickly before jumping straight into fighting. Even though it was a moment to fight, a hurt feeling still rose in your heart.

You felt like you were overreacting… Or maybe this was just the result of being constantly pushed aside, regardless if intentional or not?

Shanks

Sadly, it wouldn’t be the first time Shanks had neglected the relationship. And it definitely won’t be the last.

But this incident ticked you off to the max. After sailing to an island, Shanks had conducted his usual business. After he was done, of course the crew had to celebrate(even when it wasn’t really necessary).

In the bar the crew cheered and laughed. The overall vibe was positive, nothing but smiles plastered on everyone’s faces. Well… Everyone except you. Throughout the night you had tried getting Shanks’ attention, but his attention was always elsewhere.

You were moping in the corner, your brow twitching in irritation. After a while, Beckman made his way over to you with a soft smile,

“Someone’s upset.” He chuckled.

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” You sighed, rubbing your temples. Beckman just shook his head with a smile, “When is it never.” He grabbed a chair, sitting next to you, “Go on. Tell me what he did this time.”

You laughed. Beckman always had to be the peacemaker, “It’s what he always does, Beck. Every time I want a bit of his attention, it’s always elsewhere.” You sighed as you looked up, the sight you saw sending you over the edge.

There Shanks was, chatting it up with someone else. Being a bit too friendly for your liking. Beckman followed your gaze, immediately mentally face palming. He was about to speak but you had already left the bar.

All Beckman could do was sigh and shake his head. Seems like he had to be the one to make peace. Again.

Mihawk

Your relationship with Mihawk was nothing but bliss. Everybody around you would be shocked to hear of such a sweet relationship ever happening with such an apathetic man like him. But he loved you… Or so you thought?

When Zoro and Perona lived with you both for two years, your relationship did have its moments of distance. Mainly due to Mihawk helping with training for Zoro and you doing your duties that you usually did.

You both knew having two strangers, two strangers that were practically your guy’s children during those two years, would put some type of strain on the relationship. But you both silently agreed that you both always found a way to make things work.

When Zoro and Perona left, you couldn’t lie about the slight emptiness that filled the castle. The only upside was now you could be close with your lover again. Well, you thought that was supposed to be an upside, only it didn’t happen.

“I’m busy.” Mihawk spoke with little to no interest, not even sparing you a glance as he read the newspaper. You crossed your arms, glaring at him, “Mihawk, it’s been weeks since those two left and you still haven’t at least tried to put some effort into our relationship again?”

Mihawk sighed, a sigh you knew all too well,

“I honestly don’t understand what you’re getting upset about.”

“And I honestly don’t know who you’re talking to right now.” You snapped back rather quickly. Mihawk placed his newspaper down, standing up and staring you down, “You’ve never been this much of a pain before. We were and are quite fine.”

Your mouth fell open in shock. He thought the relationship was… Fine? You immediately scoffed, “Oh? So you think us being distant from one another is fine?”

“I liked it when you weren’t a nagging brat.”

“I’m nagging now? Seriously?”

All you could do was shake your head. Not bearing to hear whatever else he had to say, you immediately stormed off.

Little did Mihawk know, you got on a boat and left. You didn’t know where you were going, but anywhere was better than being with someone who clearly didn’t care for you anymore.

Corazon

Corazon was also someone who wouldn’t intentionally neglect you. Your relationship was a secret from the Donquixote family, more specifically, Doflamingo.

Corazon and you took a liking to one another. You didn’t care that he was mute, well, you thought he was mute until he revealed who he really was to you one day. That faithful day solidified your relationship. He couldn’t have been any happier.

What he wasn’t happy about, however, was Doflamingo’s ever so obvious liking to you. Countless times he had to sit there and witness his brothers constant flirts and rather interesting remarks about you. The whole thing made his blood boil.

Everything changed when Law came into the picture. Corazon made it his mission to save him, and you, of course, tagged along on said mission. You really didn’t have a choice since Corazon wouldn’t dare leave you alone with his brother.

Going from hospital to hospital was stressful for everyone. Corazon witnessing how horrible society really was irked him day by day. He slowly began to lose hope, but didn’t show it much. But you knew better than that.

Day by day, he would pull away from you. In all honesty, you barely noticed it since you were so busy comforting Law. It was one day when Law was sleeping, you went to talk about your frustrations to Corazon only for his responses to be short. If you even got a response, that is.

Of course you were hurt, but you understood. This whole thing was stressful on everyone. You could keep your feelings to yourself or find other ways to let out your frustrations.

But you couldn’t.

Law thankfully had comfort from you. Corazon found comfort in occasionally smoking and sometimes maybe a drink or two. You? You had nothing.

You wanted nothing more but the love from your partner… But you felt selfish for wanting that when you all had more important things to worry about.

[jals-stuff]

Some Rayne brainrot...

this is some stupid (and a bit horny??? no? yes? i don't know) stuff that went through my mind last night

MDNI PLEASE! this spawned in my head, no context

warnings: female reader, rayne is ooc and pervy, he is staring, dubcon (bit steamy at the end), bit of swearing, bit of horniness, mentions of boobies and peen...

i am very sorry, i wrote this with 0 hours of sleep. barely proofread. enjoy

Rayne Ames. The Divine Visionary, the Sword Cane.

If you watch animal documentaries, you are probably aware that cheetahs can stay in the same position for up to sixteen hours without moving at all…

Well, it so happens that Rayne’s facial expression is like a cheetah. He somehow always looks like you’ve told him a really bad pun, and he’s judging you for it (not funny, did not laugh). He probably even has this face on while he sleeps, eats, showers, and probably even while he decides to please himself. 

And yet, despite looking annoyed every second of the day, despite looking like the unfriendliest guy in the whole Academy, he looks absolutely stunning. Anyone would agree that Rayne Ames is a feast on the eyes. And you, as his seatmate in class, aren’t one to deny this.

.....................................................................

It was your last class hour for today and you couldn’t wait to go back to your dorm room and rot in bed like the absolute lazybone you were. Changing out of your uniform was now an emergency, as the shirt you had picked today was somehow way too tight for you.

Being clueless with basic things such as laundry had its pros and cons. Sure, your clothes were smaller now and you could barely fit; but it made you look incredibly sexy! …or so you kept telling yourself. Maybe you were just trying to cope with the fact that you were incredibly bad at basic human tasks.

You made your way to the classroom and got your notebook out. 

Today’s subject was pure theory, and you would’ve fallen asleep if you didn’t have the most scrumptious distraction sitting right next to you. You spent the hour doodling, taking notes whenever you paid enough attention to do so, and mostly throwing quick glances at your seatmate, Rayne, who was way too focused on the soporific theoretical experiments your elderly professor was passionately explaining, to pay attention to you.

When the old man turned around to write something on the blackboard, Rayne finally turned a fraction of his attention towards you. Of course, this happened during the minuscule amount of time you weren’t looking at him, and he took notice of a few things.

First of all, your notes were an absolute mess. Instead of trying to keep them consistent, you had picked a few words the teacher said, and chose to throw them into an adventure with other words, picked at different moments during class, resulting in an abomination that wouldn’t make sense, even to you. But you wouldn’t know, of course, since you never read your notes anyway. 

He would give you bonus points for the adorable little bunnies you had been doodling for the majority of your time in class, though.

Secondly, you seemed like you were about to sleep, but given the way you were taking notes, everything sort of made sense. Not your notes though, only the fact that you weren’t invested enough to stay awake.

Third of all, your shirt. He wished his eyes hadn’t lingered for such a long time on it. Why was it so tight? “Is she so dumb she can’t even do laundry?”, he wondered to distract himself from the fact that the button that kept your shirt closed around the chest area had the strength of a thousand lions. 

His eyes moved back to your face, and at this very moment, you chose to look at him. Your eyes met, and his expression was, as always, unreadable. Was he bored? Upset? Annoyed? At this point you were pretty sure he didn’t know any better. But it seemed a bit different this time, you could’ve sworn you saw his lower lid twitching slightly. 

You decided to turn your attention back to the teacher— or at least pretend to, for a while, and it lasted for a whopping fifty seconds. Efforts had been made! You deemed yourself deserving of a little treat, and an attempt was made to look at Rayne once again.

His eyes were still on you. Now it really felt like he was upset. You were used to his icy glare but it was getting a little uncomfortable, and so, as one does, you had a great shitty idea. You decided that stretching your back could maybe help you release some of this discomfort, and your button, may it rest in peace, gave up on its sole task of keeping your shirt closed. 

You couldn’t tell where it went at all. In fact, you didn’t even notice, but you did feel a little more comfortable now that your chest area was no longer being compressed, except it was in a literal meaning now, and not just figuratively speaking. You could still feel Rayne’s eyes on you, and decided that you wouldn’t look at him for the rest of this oh so boring class.

What you hadn’t noticed was that his eyes were no longer on your face, but rather on the missing button’s previous spot. “Is she so dumb she can’t take care of her clothing?”, he wondered to distract himself from the fact that he could now clearly see your bra. 

He could see that one mesmerising spot where your breasts were pushing in a wondrous effort to get out of their insufferable lace prison. In fact, pretty much anyone could’ve seen it if they had turned around, but it seemed this professor was either hypnotic or soporific because everyone was staring in his direction. 

You were then blissfully unaware of the fact that Rayne was now leading an internal battle. He had to get his eyes off of your cleavage, for your breasts were not the only things screaming for freedom anymore. Ah, perhaps Rayne was also bad at laundry, because his pants felt increasingly tight the longer he stared at you.

Divine Visionary or not, he was but a man, and what power does a man hold when presented with sweet bosoms? None. That’s right. He tried to think about anything else. Rabbits? His little brother, Finn? The concerning relationship Lance had with his little sister? The way alcoholism thrived amongst the ranks of the State police? No matter what went through his head, he couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

He had to do something about it, and you were probably not escaping this one.

.....................................................................

As soon as the bell rang, he closed his coat as much as he could, and grabbed your arm before you could leave, and this time you could tell he was pretty upset. Why? How could you know? You didn’t know anything. Had your head not been attached to your shoulders, you would’ve probably lost it already. 

Instead of giving you any sort of explanation, he immediately dragged you with him. Your life felt like a movie that was playing in front of your eyes. My time has come, you thought, but… not quite.

You found yourself in Rayne’s dorm room, locked in with him. His roommate wasn’t there, and it was clear this crime would leave no witnesses. 

It took him half a second to remove his coat and— oh. You were suddenly in Egypt.

Everything was there: the stone hard pyramid, the Sphinx (that seemed ready to pounce on you), and the heat. Oh boy, the heat. As a very refined lady (yes you are), you brought your hand to your chest in indignation, and oh, how distraught you felt when you realised that your beloved chest button was nowhere to be seen. It was all starting to make sense.

Without a word, he pushed you against the wall and his lips met yours in a rough, steamy kiss. Your whole body felt like it was on fire; his toned chest was pressing against yours and breaking your buttons further, his clothed erection was slightly rubbing against your clit through your panties and his hands roamed your body hungrily while his tongue left no corner of your mouth unexplored.

It was all a lot to take in but it felt so intoxicating, the way his large hands held onto your hips to keep you from squirming too much underneath his passionate touch, and how his teeth were grazing against your lips while a mixture of both your salivas dripped from the corner of your mouth. 

His body was grinding against yours like waves on the beach, and both your breathings were becoming increasingly noisy. Only after long, delicious minutes of this make-out session did he break the kiss, panting for air, as he looked into your eyes with a lustful gaze you were now used to seeing.

It wasn't your first time pushing his buttons like this, and it certainly wasn't your last.

“You did it on purpose, admit it.”

Whaaat, you? Pfffft, never! But… let’s just say you’re not usually that bad at doing your laundry.

.....................................................................

smol reminder that i am very bored and i also take requests for mashle, hsr, genshin, jjk, elsword, tower of fantasy...

xoxo

[laughingfcx]

(please/don't) call me baby

soundtrack <3

pairing: tetsurou kuroo x f. reader

content: fluff, crack humor, kuroo acts like a loser virgin LOL, way too many pet names, it girl energy reader !!!

warnings: swearing, like one sexual joke, ooc

word count: 1k

for the lovely @chososcamgirl <33 i've had sm fun in your w this idea !!!

you call everyone pet names. it's kind of your thing now, really. everyone, from yaku (darling!), to kenma (sweetheart!) to lev (angel!). that is, everyone except kuroo. to you, kuroo is kuroo. occasionally tetsurou, if he's lucky, but mostly he is just kuroo.

he doesn't mind it, he swears. he doesn't even care! or he wouldn't, but he also unfortunately happens to be head-over-heels in love with you. how embarrassing. and he's totally not jealous of the other guys.

which leads him to his current situation. his head tips back over the back of his chair as he runs one hand through his hair. "y/n, do you hate me?"

"no, why?" your answer is sharp and fast from the desk next to his.

oh, shit. now it's awkward.

"because, like... you don't call me any of your stupid cute names or anything," he explains sheepishly.

you sit up straight, lips curving up into a beautiful, evil smile. "you wanna be called pet names, kuroo?"

he flushes, shakes his head. "naaah, just asking."

you don't seem to believe him, head tilted to one side as you regard him curiously. and then you're getting up and making your way towards him, bending down to get on his level, and he thinks he might spontaneously combust in his pants. your fingers dance across the broad expanse of his chest, and your eyes are like a predator's, stalking its prey. his breath hitches as he waits for you to speak; when you finally do, he thinks he might have be going insane.

"whatever you say, baby," you purr, and holy fuck, kuroo is so ready to get down on his knees for you or bark like a dog or do whatever the fuck you want right now. he is pathetically down bad for you — it's embarrassing, and like you can read his mind, you just have to go and make it worse.

you twirl his tie around your fingers, careful and calculated, and for a split second, he imagines being pulled up by it, letting you kiss him in this empty classroom, just like that. and oh, apparently you're satisfied with how much you've messed him up right now, because suddenly you're back at your desk, and he's watching you fix your skirt with a beet red face and even redder ears.

today, for whatever reason, you're taking longer than usual to pack up when class ends, so he takes the opportunity to extricate himself from this terrible, terrible situation that he's created for himself. but when he's finally halfway out the door, someone calls his name.

"kuroo," you call after him, sickeningly sweet voice pulling him back to you. "baby, don't say you're leaving without me!"

his knees give way.

"you haven't forgotten my offer, though, right?" what a perfect gentleman, walking you home like this. he's even limiting his strides so you can keep up with ease.

"what offer, baby?" you hum distractedly, eyes glued to your phone. manicured fingers fly across it as you text someone, and you only look up when he chokes unceremoniously.

"you okay—"

"yes! i'm fine!" he yelps before you can say another word — or rather, one very specific word — and looks away to hide his reddening face. "as i was saying—"

"yes, b—"

"stop talking! i mean, let me speak!"

you frown, surprised at the way he won't let you get in a word edgewise. "okay, weirdo. go on?"

"the manager position is still open," he huffs. he's still embarrassingly red; his heart has not yet calmed down. “if you want.”

"mm, i don't know, baby, i'll have to think about it."

he will die. or he will run into oncoming traffic and die. this is so unfair, it's torture—

"thanks for walking me back, baby, i'll see ya."

he trips and falls on his face. "fuck— i mean, see you later!"

"you seem awfully happy today," kenma observes. "did something happen?"

"what? no, why?" he splutters. splotches of red begin to appear on his face, and kenma smirks.

"sure."

"say, kenma."

"what?" he sounds annoyed even though he's the one who started this conversation.

"how do you deal with y/n's nicknames?"

"what d'you mean? they're okay."

silence. kuroo rolls this new piece of information over in his mind. "so... you don't feel like exploding or dying every time she calls you, like, baby or something?"

kenma looks confused. "no? i think that's called a crush, kuro. also you know she said she thinks that's too romantic for her friends, so no, 'cause she doesn't even call any of us that— are you okay?"

"kenma."

"what?"

"shut up."

kuroo is pretty. it's not an unknown fact, and you, having known him for several years at this point, are no stranger to it either. with sly honey-brown eyes and bedhead that he manages to make look good in a way that you just cannot fathom, he is — in short — just your type. this is also where you shamefully admit that yes, even his derisive remarks and general air of disdain when it comes to his opponents is very attractive indeed. not to mention his biceps— actually, let's not go there.

but biceps or not, he has been driving you insane as of late. and now, it's apparent that you're finally getting to return the favour. you're not stupid; you've been noticing his reactions to the nickname from the start. and it's almost satisfying to be able to toy with him the way he's — unintentionally — been doing with you. maybe he'll even catch the hints you've been dropping if he's lucky.

meanwhile, it's taken kuroo exactly one hour and twenty-three minutes to desensitize himself to (the thought) of your voice. anyways, it's not like he'll see you any time soon, so it's okay. first there's volleyball practice, then he'll go straight to bed.

kuroo hates himself — it's like everything he does comes back to bite him in the ass. or rather, in the lungs this time, question mark. because as he struggles to breathe properly, you're waving at him from across the gymnasium in a very oversized NEKOMA jacket.

"i thought about it it!" you yell. "i'll be temporarily managing the team!"

maybe he should quit.

author's note :: whenever i'm describing kuroo i swear i start typing w one hand😭😭 reader's pov was NAWT necessary to the story i just wanted to salivate over him ok.

also this is going to be a series so like :) that's why there's nothing major here really

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Rigor Mortis (part 5)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,

Part 4, Part 6

summary: You deal with the aftermath of last night. Lyla has a party.

warnings: very suggestive. mentions of sex, vulgar language, etc 18+ Minors DNI

a/n: this is so so so self indulgent i cannot express it enough. probably ooc asf: you've been warned.

Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3

Join my taglists here

wc: 8.5k (i'm on a strict plan and had a lot to get through lmfao)

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

and they were good.

Eventually, you're bundled into your room in a fit of giggles and with shaky legs. Even in Miguel's hoodie, insisted upon by the man himself, the sheets feel a little colder after he leaves. Initially, he had collapsed on top of you; smothering you with the heat of his bare skin and the sweats that ride down his hips, dangerously low. You're pushing him off, or trying to, heavy and leaden-limbed. Whether it's the weight of that orgasm or the remnants of that blunt that turns your arms to jelly – you don't know.

Honestly, you don't think you care. He's resorted to laying his head on your chest in mock sleep – clearly still high as fuck – and stretching out on top like a housecat. He's warm on your lap; so you bring a hand to card through dark brown curls that rest on the flat of your sternum. 

You'd never have known it: Miguel has a playful side, beneath all the sarcasm and red tape. 

In the morning, he's gone - with only his hoodie as proof that something happened. For you, it's a hazy memory - warmth tinged in the lazy light of last night's high. It comes and goes like the tide on a quiet beach: remembering how he touched you, the feel of bare skin on bare skin, the way it burned when he kissed your shoulder…. 

And it's gone, again. You're left tracing the hickey at the base of your neck, and it aches . A little moment like that, fooling around like teenagers on prom night, and it shouldn't feel as intimate as it does. Groaning into your pillow, you burrow into the expanse of your roommate's hoodie. With a busy week incoming, you can't afford to be distracted – not like this. 

And so, you bury the urge to knock on Miguel's door, and put your lips around the words that mean… more. You want more. It feels greedy to verbalise it, as if you've seen too much of him already. The irony; humping almost fully clothed and yet, feeling so bare. It leaves a strange taste in your mouth – blood, maybe. Maybe he's finally done it: stuck the knife between ribs to find out what colour you bleed. Miguel's a scientist after all; prone to making things go pop and snap , slicing into specimens with a steady hand.

It's too much, too close for comfort and you can't afford it: affection and intimacy in any shape or size was a fatal wound , especially after last time. Instead, you let the morning waves crash over its outline left in sand. A body – blood and gristle and guts – washed away by the tide. 

You find yourself pushing down dangerous feelings. After finally getting comfortable with Miguel, all that progress seems for naught; bumbling around the apartment like a deer finding its legs. The first morning, you're spared a confrontation as he's already gone from the apartment. Earlier than usual, and you hand-wave away that little voice in your head that says: he's avoiding you . 

He's not. He can't be. And you know it because he's able to look you in the eye. Briefly, but it's much longer than you can last. You have a whole conversation when he comes home and it only makes you want to rip out your eyeballs a little. 

You're on the sofa, hands in your lap and antsy. There's a stupid soap on the TV, but you can barely concentrate; head too full of cotton to make sense of the screen. You're so lost in thought that when the door clicks open, you jump half a foot into the air. 

"Shit." You turn, watching Miguel kick his shoes off at the door. Flashing him a nervous smile, you wave limply and turn around to cringe. 

"Heeey," God. You burrow into the cushions. 

"Hey." He's got a plastic bag in hand. He drops the rucksack on his back, and goes straight to the kitchen. 

You call out. "Takeout's in the fridge." 

He hums, and you hear clattering from the doorway. Turning, you watch; sleeves rolled up in a smart shirt. You can see the muscles in his back from here; the ripple of hard lines under cotton. Craning your head, you can't help but be curious. 

"Stop sticking your nose in."

You're halfway off the couch, and stop dead in your tracks. 

"M'not-" 

He peeks out from the doorframe; catching you in the act. 

"You're not allowed to look."

It leaves you spluttering, getting off the sofa like a spoilt child. He's telling you not to look, and like clockwork you're itching for it; padding towards the counters. Miguel must have superpowers the way he catches you, leant against the doorframe with his arms crossed across his broad chest. You're on your tiptoes and trying to get a glimpse into the kitchen. He shifts in the way, tight-lipped and shaking his head. 

"Meant it. It's a surprise." You cock your head, like you can't believe what he's saying. 

You step to the other side and he steps along with you, blocking your view. 

"... Miguel ." You say it slowly, incredulous. You're stepping closer, ever so slightly, but he stays stony-faced and resolute. 

For the first time in 24 hours, since you basically fucked him in the room next door, you're looking each other in the eye. Squinting, you hold his gaze but he barely cracks a smile. 

"Sit down." He says it sternly, but his voice is soft. "Please."

With a flourish, you bring your hands up in surrender and inch back towards the couch. It's the usual chopping and thudding of cabinets being opened and closed. It takes everything not to look back, but you force yourself to concentrate on the TV. 

Finally, he places a bowl in front of you before flopping to your side. He's still in his work clothes, adjusting the waistband of black slacks and popping off the buttons at the top of his shirt. You're trying not to stare, not to drool at the way he just melts ; sinking into the seats like a lolly on a hot sidewalk. When he brings his bowl closer, that's when you inspect the contents of yours. 

"Is this…?" You start, and he hums; taking a healthy slurp of noodles in the process. 

You shake your head to no one in particular. It's the very same instant ramen you've stopped buying, after constant complaints and lectures from the man himself. There's enough salt in here to banish a demon, he'd spit. In retaliation you'd bite back, saying, maybe you'll fuck off where you came from, and retreat to your room to eat in peace. It's your favourite flavour; perfectly salty and flavourful and definitely not good for you. In the broth, there's the milky white and yellow of an egg, with spring onions and fresh veg breaking the surface. Even before you've taken a bite, you feel that warmth at your chest, again. 

He doesn't even look at you, pointing a finger at the screen instead. 

"I thought Jenny was dead?"

You clear your throat of that lump, rising up like a fishing boat spit up by the waves. 

"That was her twin sister, Jane."

"...I thought Jane was dead." He frowns. 

"No, no, Jane faked her death in the mining accident; and ran off with all that inheritance money… were you paying attention last episode?"

"No, you watched it without me."

"Yeah, but you said you hated this show–"

" –only because it's a total rip-off of La Patrona ," 

"And yet, you're begging me not to watch without you–" 

"Begging seems a little strong–" 

He's kept his sharp tongue, and you're too occupied with arguing to notice the hand wrapped around the back of the sofa; how you're both inching closer until your legs come to rest on his own. You're focusing on his lips, drawn in by a pull that seems stronger than gravity. 

He's saying your name, and you snap out of it. Blinking up at him, a deer in headlights, you remember yourself and look away. Tension pulls at the both of you, a string as thin as fishing wire that snaps with your realisation. You like the way he looks, flushed and flustered after a long day. You could make him feel even better, right now, if he wanted it. You'd drop to your knees and wrap a hand around his cock, pulling those beautiful sounds out of him – the very same ones you'd fucked yourself to the thought of, not so long ago. 

If, being the key word. And with the way he shifts back, away from you, you're not too sure if last night was a flash in the pan or something more. 

Everything about Miguel screams dangerous; flags in deep scarlet that are telling you to stay the fuck away. He doesn't commit, sleeps around; refusing to define or put a label on any significant relationship in his life. He won't even admit, say the words, that he's fucking a half-dozen girls right now; even when you've got concrete proof in the form of messy lips and banging on the walls. Okay, maybe half a dozen is a stretch; but three girls, on three separate, multiple, occasions for sure. Probably; you haven't technically seen anything but if the precision of last night was any indicator – the terrifying speed at which he made you fold like a lawn chair – he had significant experience. He was a fucking veteran; dedicated to the sport for the love of the game. 

You find yourself caught in his web all the same; kicking yourself at your naivete. He's turned away now, seemingly unfazed, making little comments at the show you've got on TV. It's becoming increasingly clear where you stand: caught in a game of chicken with your roommate – a man with balls of steel, if last night was any indicator. You're ill equipped to deal with such levels of conflict avoidance, despite years of hands on experience. 

The question remains, stuck in the gaps of your teeth like udon, thick and dense and chewy: how exactly does he feel about you? Where do you belong? 

~~~

It's been quite the week and a half, mostly spent trying to make sense of Miguel. One minute you're at each other's throats, and the next, he's talking you through rate laws and kinetics equations. Apparently , you've got a lecturer he used to have, and he insists on sidling up to you on the dining table; prodding at your paper and liberally crossing out errors. His inconsistency has you irate ; and it means you get petty, picking fights and laying easy bait. Frustratingly enough, all it does is make that tension worse; thick and choking ; in your little apartment. 

The only thing you have to look forward to is the party at Lyla's; of which you've volunteered to help set up. It means food, and drink, and a couple hours of respite, hopefully. 

On the day, you get to Lyla's early. Miguel's at work, promising to be there in a couple of hours, and so you take the subway instead. Yet again, walking up to her apartment feels like another world – one of marble and faux fur and lots of animal print. When she lets you up, you're left with only your thoughts and the quiet hum of the elevator. In the mirrored wall, you take stock of your outfit: snug denim and a little shirt. Admittedly, your wardrobe felt a little lacking – jeans and a nice top being your go to. Right now, your only hope is that the dress code would be more forgiving. 

The door swings open and Lyla's pushing you towards the living room, chattering away at a mile a minute. It's overwhelming as you're dragged into the light, half a dozen boxes and its miscellaneous contents strewn onto the floor. 

"–and Jess has the nose of a bloodhound, so if anything seems even a little off, she'll know… "

You nod slowly as Lyla squeezes your arm with so much force, it cuts off blood supply. 

"Like clockwork. We need this to run like clockwork."

Fingers numb, you watch as her features set; a wide smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes and shadow that cuts her face just so. Overcast and dramatic; simply put, it's terrifying. 

There's a loud Pop! from behind, making you jump. 

"... sorry !" Peter's voice rings out, and there’s a tangle of brown hair and dark eyes peeking over the kitchen island. 

Walking over, you can see he's splayed out on the tiles, balloons littered all over the place. A balloon pump, long discarded, sits in its packet at barely an arm's length. More importantly, though, he's got a bundle of red hair and freckles in his arms; little May, sniffling and whining with what's left of a balloon between chubby fingers. 

"Might need some help, over here…" He says it softly, rocking the little girl in his lap. 

Lyla rolls up non-existent sleeves, face scrunched up in concentration. She closes her eyes ; fingers dancing as if typing on non-existent keys. 

"...okay, okay, change of plans." She turns to you, eyes wrenched open and hands clasped together – Machievellian in nature. You suppose; with the sheer extent of her party planning skills, able to pull strings this way and that; it fits. "We've got exactly 3 hours and 23 minutes before everyone else arrives, plus about 17 minutes, give or take, before Jess does."

"How do you kno-" You start, but Peter presses a finger to his lips. She's in the zone, he seems to mouth. 

“I need you and Pete to get these balloons done, and then we can set up the archway. I’ll call Ben, ask him where the fuck he is, and then we’ll see if we can get some banners and streamers up…. God , and the food…. think I need to threaten someone at the catering company, give me a sec,” She stalks off, muttering something that sounds important. Pete shrugs, kicking over a box of balloons; black, white and gold, a lot fancier than you had expected. May is eased off of his lap, and he presses a gentle kiss to the top of her head. She sniffles, holding her head up bravely. It's probably the cutest thing you’ve seen all year.

“I give her 5 minutes before she realises Miguel’s going to be late.”

“...and God help us when she does.” You finish for him, settling down on the cool marble. 

You make a start on the balloons, opening the untouched packets and pulling out a shiny pump.

“How long have you known each other?” You busy your hands by stretching the neck of a deceptively small balloon.

“Oh, Lyla?” He frowns. “A couple of years, maybe. We met because of Miguel – same with Jess and Ben, actually.”

It's your turn to frown. Miguel was the glue? It’s a picture that doesn’t quite match up with the meet-cute that you were painting in your head. If they met because of your roommate, it must’ve been a contentious group project, or someone rear-ended in the parking lot, that brought them together: something with a lot of shouting and arguing, you decide. 

Maybe Pete sees the surprise on your face, because he adds, “I’ve known Miguel for longer, though… and he’s a lot nicer than people give him credit for.”

“...I didn’t say he wasn’t.” Nice? Not a chance. 

“But you were thinking it. Promise, once you get to know him–”

He’ll give you a mind-numbing orgasm and pretend it never happened. Or something like that.

“ –he gets less confusing?” You grumble. “I’ve seen enough, I think.”

“So maybe he’s a bit of a prick. But under that cold, stony exterior; buried deep, deep, deep…”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Deep down , somewhere, he’s got a heart.”

“I just,” You pause, choosing your next words more delicately. “I didn’t expect his friends to be like you guys. Fun and–” …a little batshit, and… “ – spontaneous. He’s so stoic sometimes, it’s worrying. Like, he’ll just blank out on the couch–”

“–frowning in the corner like the wall’s pissed him off personally? Yeah, I’ve seen that one a few times.”

“He’s just so hot and cold! Sometimes we’re good and almost friendly, and then all of a sudden he’s avoiding me at all costs, holed up somewhere. A-And then he’s making me breakfast, like that blip didn’t even happen… did I do something wrong? Has he said anything to you? I-I just want him to–”

The man besides you chuckles. And then, you flash him a violent look that has him flattening his features in a hurry.

“He just… takes some time to warm up, s’all. He’s changed – changing. I mean, we went to highschool together and I didn’t even realise ‘til we met again in college.”

“You went to highschool with him?”

“Yeah, but I was like, 2 grades ahead of him. We didn’t really talk except… we were both in this robotics club afterschool.”

“Robotics? Wires, and circuit boards, and–”

“ –robots. Honest-to-God, hand-on-heart, stupid little robots. And being teenagers with way too much time on our hands, we’d build ‘em, and then make ‘em fight to the death. Miguel… he took it way more serious than everyone else there. We’d mess around with goobers and battlebots – hell, sometimes we’d skip to get food. He was.. He was always there, though, hunkered down in the corner and tinkering away at something.” 

“Now, I wasn’t popular in highschool, at all – I went to Robotics Club , so I think that about sums it up – but I remember… no-one could really understand him. Top of his class, always up for awards, but people thought he was a little weird. Come rain or shine, he’d always be in that corner seat with a screwdriver basically glued to his hand. And we didn’t have a clue what he was building.”

He seems wistful, thinking back to that time. 

“When I finally asked him what it was, at the end of maybe… 2 semesters,” He smiles, one that deepens his dimples and brushes the corners of his eyes. “He finally told us. It was a… a fucking arena for all the stupid stuff we built. He’d really thought it through, too: all our equipment would get jumbled up, so he made little boxes and sections to separate them in. There was an LED pad he’d programmed to keep a scoreboard. It was made out of this… self-healing vinyl so we wouldn’t need to replace it too often. He got so excited when he was explaining it all; about how it folded up so we could bring it with us when we changed classrooms, and… honestly, I think they still have it there.”

He sighs. “I think that’s all he knows how to do, y’know. That’s the language he speaks, the only one he really understands. Taking care of people, giving them what they need. You’re barely friends with Miguel, then all of a sudden he’s giving you hangover cures cooked up in his kitchen, and cussing you out in the morning, ‘cus you went a little too ham after a breakup. Or…he’s bringing pizza to your apartment at 3 in the morning, ‘cus he knew you were lying about being okay after your Uncle’s funeral.”

He’s got a faraway look in his eyes, an absentminded hand in May’s. Her stubby fingers curl around his, and then he’s back, snapped out of that distant daydream.

“Give it time. He’s been through some shit. Miguel’s got layers, like–”

“Like an onion?” You offer, weakly.

“No, no. Like one of those cheese wheel things that May likes so much. With.. with the wrapper and the waxy red stuff on the..?” He handwaves it away. “Forget it. MJ knows what they’re called.”

~~~

You put your back into helping set up. You don't quite get the theme, but Lyla explains it all whilst you hang the contents of those boxes on the wall: a maximalist, hedonistic mish-mash of food, drink and decor. She wants it to feel like if Gatsby three raves, and actually fucked that sad twink – whatever that means. The visual representation of an orgasm, but classy, she says. More, more, more; and if your back doesn't hurt by the end of it, then it's not enough. 

She's got you hauling ass across her front room, draping fabric and moving furniture like it's your job. Ben arrives and between the four of you (five, if you include May clambering on decor), it's all done. You can't help but think she's done a great job: the whole room decked out to look like the cover of an expensive wedding in Vogue – excessive but in a way that's only classy when rich people hire someone else to do it. Lush fabric in lieu of streamers draped on the walls, balloons sculpted into arches and tastefully dotted around the floor. The theme is black and white, with hints of gold, and gentle strings of pearl hang from ceilings and walls. It looks good, because it has to; Lyla's made you move everything around about a million times. 

Gleefully, she rubs her hands together, turning to all of you. "Food's going to be here in 10, I think. You guys get changed and I'll double check when Miguel's bringing the cake."

Peter and Ben disperse into various rooms – with Peter noticeably rubbing his back, May on his arm. You're left with Lyla, awkwardly looking towards her for guidance. 

"...get changed?" You look down at your woefully casual outfit. It seems you've come completely unprepared. 

"Yep. Miggy didn't tell you about the dress code?" 

…it's becoming increasingly difficult to cut your roommate some slack. With everything that's happened, rather conveniently, he's neglected to make any mention of a dress code. 

Sheepishly, you start, "I didn't know, shit –" 

Lyla cuts you off and brings a hand up to silence you. Bouncing on her toes, she's almost giddy with excitement. 

"I know exactly what you can wear!" 

She leads you upstairs to her room. You perch on her bed; and whilst you grapple with the fact that she even has an upstairs, you lose her in the deep depths of a walk-in. Lyla rummages through almost cartoonishly; wading through fur and leather and giant coats like an explorer hacking through dense forest. Eventually, she resurfaces, waving a bundle of white fabric. She hands it to you with a grin. 

She gives you some room, pushing you through the double doors of her closet to get changed. The dress feels amazing on: well-made, thick fabric and endlessly snug in all the right places. In the mirror, you marvel at how such a simple garment transforms you: a silky slip that stops about mid thigh, draped beautifully on your shoulders, and hugging your hips like a glove. There's a little slit at the side that stops just a bit higher than you'd usually be comfortable with, but… it works. Incidentally, your makeup and hair compliments the look; soft and pretty and–

You hear a small gasp from behind the door. Lyla's got her head peeking out into the room, and then she's at your side with a gentle hand on your arm. She spins you around in front of the mirror. 

"You look…" Her eyes light up, marvelling at you. " Gorgeous. You have to keep it."

"No, I can't… I won't . I was already underdressed, and this must have been expensive. I can't."

"No shit, of course it was expensive. But that's not a good enough reason… I barely wear it, and I've got more than enough clothes. Keep it ." She's smiling, head just over your shoulder in the mirror. 

"It's not too much…?" 

"Honestly, babe, it's not enough." She giggles. "D'you like it?" 

It feels weird to look at yourself like this, dolled up and pretty – contrasting how you've felt in the past few months. It feels like you've been in survival mode; exhausted and perpetually tired. On, all the time, and sick with worry about one thing or the other. You've forgotten to take care of yourself, and as a result, this feels different. 

Lyla notices: the way you stand up a little straighter and adjust your hair; the way you try your hardest to clamp down a smile. Do you like it? Slowly but surely, you nod. 

"You're allowed to like it, y'know," She says, softly. "You look happy. You look good. "

You believe it, when she says it. You let that feeling carry you down the stairs; one hand on the railing and Lyla babbling away with an arm looped around yours. 

~~~

Miguel is late – really late .

He was meant to be at Lyla'a about an hour and a half ago, which means he's rushing to get the cake. For once, at least that goes smoothly; and he picks up a little red velvet affair, piped to perfection and with " Happy 27th, Jess!" written on its face. It keeps him company on the way to the party, sitting snug on the passenger's seat as he drives more carefully than before. He figures it's better to be safe than sorry; already this late, there's no need to add cake smasher to the list. 

The day's been draining, and he wants nothing more than to curl up in bed with his favourite podcast. He knows his friends like the back of his hand, and knows that when Lyla says a small celebration for Jess, just a house party ; what she means is going the whole 9 yards, an excess of food and drink and disgustingly expensive decor, all for the sake of a birthday. He's had a glimpse of the guest list, and recognises about half of the people there – Lyla's too friendly for her own good, he thinks. He'd tried to talk her out of it, knowing Jess would be more than up for a smaller dinner, but she had her mind set. And it's impressive, what she's no doubt managed to achieve in the past few weeks of meticulous planning. 

Nevertheless, it's not something he has the energy for, right now. Work had been a slog; and he'd had a couple hours of lectures before a meeting with his thesis supervisor – where she had ripped his outline to shreds, frankly. He's still sore from that verbal lashing, but fears the one he'll get from Lyla more, if he doesn't come. 

And… and there's you, headstrong and stubborn and insisting on attending; even though he had made it abundantly clear you were under no obligation to do so. It must be out of spite, he thinks. But with the dress code, he can't help but daydream as to what you'd look like; maybe, a pretty little dress on, hair done a bit different, and… ohhh fuck. He didn't tell you about the dress code. 

He's gripping the steering wheel, annoyed at himself for such a little slip up. And it's not just the fact that he's forgotten; but he knows, considering the past few days, you might take it the wrong way. He's not stupid ; he knows he's been wishy-washy, all because it's hard to decide how he wants you or if he should. More than anything, he feels guilt; getting you high and oh-so close to fucking you, just the way you deserve, and then… he can't. It's hard to explain, and even harder for him to wrap his head around. That logical part of him screaming: you can't fuck your roommate without consequences. But he's already had a glance into Pandora's box, a taste of that sweet fruit – of temptation , strong and heady. 

It's that taste left in his mouth, of something sweet, that lingers when he walks into the party. The door's open, but even from down the hallway he can feel it: the rattle and shake of pumping music. He squeezes himself in, dodging the mass of bodies packed into the main room. The lights are low, music loud and the celebration well underway. More than anything, he's hoping it's so busy he can just show his face for a bit, and then slip out. 

He towers over other people, shuffling past, giving a nod or hello to all the people that slap his back and greet him. A scattered chorus of 'Hi' s and 'S'up, Miguel's, and then he's placing the cake on the counter, pushing past half-empty drinks and beer bottles. He snatches one up, looking around. He's watching for the furred collar that Lyla's no doubt wearing, or mousy brown in the neon lights; but with the pumping mass of bodies, he can't see much. 

He's ready to check upstairs when the crowd parts, and he sees you ; swirling in the mass. It makes his chest bloom with heat; you're gorgeous, dressed in white like an angel and smiling in a way he's never seen before. And then, his heart stops as someone else comes into view: another man, somewhat taller than you. There's an arm wrapped around your waist, and the man dances up against you in a way that makes something cold and bitter flare up within him. Miguel stays glued to the spot, for some reason, unable to take his eyes off of you: illuminated in the light, beautiful and flowing like a spectre. And like nails on a chalkboard, all he can do is watch as you dance up against someone else. 

His mouth goes dry, and then he's making a beeline for the double doors at the back; a glassy entrance to a balcony tucked away. The air is stifling in there, but when he's on the balcony, finally, he's able to breathe. 

There's someone nursing a brightly coloured drink, in its corner. Jess, big hair braided back and a velvety red jumpsuit on. She turns at the clatter of the door opening, before bursting into a wide smile. 

" Miguel!" She cheers, enveloping him in a hug. 

"Hey," He smiles warmly, sinking into her arms.  "Happy birthday, Jess."

"Thank you, kindly." She curtsies, producing a faux southern twang and laughing all the same. Then, she wags a finger at the man in front of her. "You're late . "

He rubs his temples. "I.. I know."

"Lyla's gonna fucking kill you. "

"I know."

She gives him a playful punch. "You okay, over there?" 

He gives her a rueful smile. "Yeah, Jess. Of course. When am I ever not okay?" 

"I've got a list, big guy, but we'll be here all day." 

She laughs and Miguel glances over through the glass; drawn to you even now. The song's changed, a bass line that rattles the panes, and you're still glued to that guy . Just as quickly, he looks away. 

With a front row view to that display, Jess raises an eyebrow. She follows his gaze, connecting the dots. 

" Oh. " Her voice is gentle. "S'that her?" 

" Her?" Miguel echoes.

" Her . Your roommate. The one Lyla says you're fucking."

"You and I both know– " 

"Okay, okay, maybe she didn't say those exact words…. but there's something there, for sure."

"Not possible . " He says it plainly, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. 

She leans against the railing, taking a careful sip of her drink. 

"Xina says you're doing stupid shit to impress her. Peter says you're making heart eyes whenever she's in the room. Ben says– "

"Xina? What's she got to do with anything?" He's deflecting, Jess notes. Miguel, usually so quick with the sarcasm, and he's refusing to touch the other half of what she said. 

"...you're tutoring half of her classmates."

He purses his lips. "Yeah, but I didn't think –" 

"...you didn't think girls would talk?" She splutters. Of course it sounds stupid, when she puts it like that. 

"Yeah, well, Xina's still not talking to me , so…" He trails off, shaking his head. 

"It's almost as if you broke her heart into a million tiny pieces, Mig." She rolls her eyes. "Get your head out of your ass, man." 

She turns to face the city and Miguel does the same, with a heavy sigh. It's quiet for a moment, with only the sound of cars below and dull thrum of speakers behind to keep them company. He's always liked this, he thinks. A moment of calm with Jess, the only sane person for miles around. They're able to sit in comfortable silence, in a half-minute that transcends words. 

He reaches into his front pocket, pulling out a little parcel that's wrapped up in red paper. He nudges Jess, handing the present over. 

"Happy birthday." 

She smiles, tearing into the little package. Then she stops halfway, heart melting at what peeks through. 

" Miguel… " She coos, a hand on his arm to steady herself. Out of the packing paper, she produces two little boots; red and blue and made of soft wool. "How did you…?" 

"It wasn't obvious, but… sick in the mornings, switching to soda when we go out to a bar…" He allows himself a smile. "And I asked what's-his-face, just to be sure."

"See, I can't tell if you actually don't know my husband's name or–" She cuts herself off with watery laughter. "F-Forget it. Fuck, I'm gonna cry all this makeup off,"

He takes a sharp intake of air. "They were… mamá made them." 

"Thank you, oh God . I know how much this–" 

He cuts her off with a hand wave, as if to say; don't worry about it. "Sorry I couldn't come to the wedding. Your husband seems nice, and he treats you well. Although , he's kind of–" 

" Corny . Yeah, we get that a lot." She's half laughing, half crying, fanning her face to stop her mascara from running. 

He wraps a big arm around her, pulling Jess into his side. Happy tears, he hopes as she blubbers. 

"I think m'getting too old for this… we don't see each other enough, lately… a-and I would've been happy with the dinner, then Lyla told me there was an emergency over here–" 

"She did good. Really good. Don't tell her I said that, though."

She nods, bringing a finger to her lips with a smile. "And you don't tell the other's about…"

"Of course not. When you're ready, Jess."

"I love you, man." She grins wide, and Miguel returns it with one of his own; an increasingly rare megawatt smile. It quickly falls with her next words. 

"If you ever tell anyone I said that, I'll break your kneecaps and blame it on the hormones." 

She grabs his beer, opening it with her teeth, and hands it back to him. A little scared, Miguel takes a healthy swig. 

"Oh, shit. " Jess exclaims, batting his arm. "I completely forgot. Lyla's got some stupid games on, upstairs."

"Who with?" 

"The usual suspects, Mig – though Peter's long gone and… I don't even know where Ben goes, actually. But you can bring your girlfriend up, if you promise not to eyefuck her across the room."

" Gross , Jess."

She raises a hand up in surrender, leading the way back inside. 

~~~

Miguel's here all of a sudden, and in a moment you thought would be more of a bang ; you lock eyes with him as Jess herds you upstairs. It's less of a sharp pain at the ribs and more of a crescendo; pooling warmth spreading to fingers and toes. He's still in his work clothes: crisp white shirt with a couple buttons undone, and black trousers. A little formal, and yet, he doesn't feel out of place; wearing the monochrome of the dress code, and looking twice as good as any man in the room. Somehow, you've forgotten how tall he is; lumbering over everyone else as he cuts between the crowd. He snakes behind you, giving you a strange look as you walk up the stairs. All of a sudden, you're weary of your dress, tugging down its hem as best you can. Miguel stays behind you, a gentle hand at the small of your back. 

"You're okay," He whispers, sending shivers down your spine. " I've got you ."

He doesn't mean it like that , but it's too easy for you to close your eyes and imagine what it could be; words he kissed into skin when you're on top, struggling to take his length. 

You ignore that coil tightening at the pit of your stomach, choosing instead to focus on Lyla stumbling through the door,  trademark pink shades slipping down her nose. Behind her, there's a little sitting room; plush furniture and a massive tv – with quite a few consoles in the corner, you note. She shouts your name, barely audible over the music. 

" – oh, and hi, Miguel!" She's too drunk to be mad, and you don't notice Miguel visibly relaxing. She takes your hand, calling over to Jess just behind you. "We saved you a mocktail, J."

Taking your seat, you settle down next to Lyla; perching with your legs crossed on the seat. Miguel sits some way away, on the opposite side of your makeshift circle, clearly trying not to make eye contact. Jess elbows him, and he turns to her, before having a heated argument; all hushed whispers and hand gestures. It's the most animated he's been in the past week, for sure… 

"We're playing Never Have I Ever, Jess! Like back in college."

The woman in question rolls her eyes, giving a flash of pretty dimple. Back in college, Lyla says, when they'd drink cheap beer and spill their guts in dive bars – a tradition Jess wasn't too upset to see go. She didn't have the stomach for it then, and she doesn't now; but it probably wouldn't hurt to relive some of that fun. 

It's a warmup round, so to speak; a strong drink thrust into your hands. You take turns going around the circle, starting off relatively tame. First, it's Never have I ever skipped a class. Everyone, all college aged or older, drinks to that one. It's practically a given. And then someone chips in with Never have I ever broken a bone . Again, most people drink – taking advantage of the freebies to get a little tipsy. 

It's Lyla that throws out the juicy ones, after a couple of duds. 

" Never have I ever faked an orgasm." She says it from behind her glass, giggling. 

Less people drink, this time. Sheepishly, you raise your glass, taking a healthy gulp. Lyla takes the opportunity to gasp, clutching at her chest and fanning her forehead dramatically. 

You're whispering back, half laughing and half telling her off, "That's not that weird, Ly. Hasn't everyone…?"

"Not me. How's your partner meant to know it's shit if you fake it?" 

It's her sincerity that makes you laugh; wide-eyed and completely incredulous. You're clamping down the giggles when you look around, immediately locking eyes with Miguel. He gives you an odd look, as if amused. 

You're up next, and roll up metaphorical sleeves. "Never have I ever had a threesome. "

There's murmuring around the room, and a couple of people take a drink. Lyla does, with glee, and someone else you don't quite know the name of. What surprises you, however, is when Miguel takes a swig; eyes locked onto yours. 

You feel heat rising, blinking away as best you can. You still feel his gaze, of course. That game of chicken, the one you've so desperately been trying to avoid, rears its ugly head. You think Miguel is winning. 

The questions get more and more provocative. Never have I ever been pegged… or pegged someone else. Lyla drinks, Jess takes a gulp of her fruity mocktail…. and so does Miguel. Never have I ever been cheated on. Most people drink to this one, including yourself. A shitty teen relationship barely counts, you suppose; but you're taking every opportunity for a drink right now. 

Never have I ever cheated on someone. One or two people drink, and at least they have the decency to be ashamed. When Miguel drinks, however, you shift in your seat. Something settles within you, discontent. Yet again, your image of the man in front of you changes. For someone who sleeps around, maybe it's not too much of a stretch for him to cheat ; but the word feels so final, too cruel. It doesn't match up, for some reason, with your Miguel, who brings you piping hot noodles and hot water bottles on a bad day. 

This time, he doesn't meet your eye. 

Lyla decides she's bored, bouncing on the balls of her feet. 

"New game – truth or dare!" There's faux groans from around the room. Lyla sticks a tongue out, ignoring them, and continues. "Jess, as the birthday girl… you get first pick."

Jess lights up, gorgeous , with the hoops at her ears swinging to and fro when she looks around. You haven't spoken much to her, but she seems like good fun; making a whole song and dance of picking the first victim. 

It's obvious, in hindsight, who she'd pick. There's only one person in the room visibly squirming, almost sweating , at the idea of something so out of his control. 

" Miguel," She says, turning to the man sinking into cushions. "Truth or dare?" 

He gives her a look, and she combats it with one of her own; the kind that could melt steel beams, and says It's my birthday, don't be a dick. 

" Dare ." He grits his teeth. 

"I dare you," She pauses for dramatic effect. "...to show us your porn watch history." 

Imperceptible, his eyes flash towards you. You notice , mouth dry. He groans. "We're not 19 anymore, Jess. It's childish. I'm a grown ass man–" 

" Truth or Dare , Mig."

"Truth." It's quick – which is very reasonable, considering her tone. 

"When was the last time you fucked someone?" 

Everyone turns to Miguel. He's looking at you, of course, wincing at the words he's about to say. 

"I don't…" He's swirling the beer bottle in his hand, and then he shrugs noncommittally. "I don't know. A… month, maybe."

" Bullshit!" Someone whisper-shouts, and then there's some laughter. 

Jess' eyebrows jump up, and Miguel bats her concerns away, whispering something under his breath. You can't quite catch it but his body language is clear: don't ask. He downs the rest of his drink, lips around the bottle, as some liquid trails down the side of his jaw. You're watching, unrepentantly obvious, and he catches your gaze. Without breaking eye contact, he swipes a finger to the liquid and licks it up.

Heart racing, you force yourself to look away and try to concentrate on the next few dares. The circle seems to have moved on, more interested in whatever juicy shit they can drag up in the next poor victim. 

You've all but zoned out when it's the turn of Jun, egged on by a couple of friends. You frown. He's that guy you were dancing with earlier, caught up in heady music and swirling lights. Jun is handsome, in that famous starlet kind of way; square-jawed, pretty eyes, and dark, cropped hair. Boy wonder is lean-lined with a nice smile; the very same that had reeled you in on the dancefloor. Maybe it's the liquor, but you think he's looking at you now; raking sharp eyes over your figure. 

"How do you know him?" You whisper to Lyla. 

She cups a hand to your ear, more than halfway to being absolutely wasted. 

"Used t-to work with him. He's nice enough, I think…? There was a rumour around the office; and apparently, he's got a massive di-" 

"Truth or dare?" Someone says. 

"Dare. Obviously." He flashes a smile in your direction. 

You squirm, and Lyla shines with realisation. 

"Oh my God." She whispers, and then she's interrupting before you can stop her. "Makeout with the hottest girl in the room. A proper one, tongue and teeth and–" 

You elbow her, square in the ribs. Thankfully, she takes the hint. Jun cocks his head, as if mulling it over. He gets up. 

Your head spins with the drink, and you're concentrating on keeping your sneakers flat on the ground. Head down, you don't notice the man walking over. He crouches, tapping your knee. 

"Oh." You say, blinking up at him. "Hi, again."

"Hi, again." He smiles. It's like you're the only two in the room, and with the way he looks at you, eyes darting to your lips… "Can I kiss you?" 

The words get caught in your throat, so you nod, fumbling. 

He places a hand to your chin, gently pushing you closer and then you're kissing; sweet and gentle. You separate, and you open your eyes to find his blown . You've got tunnel vision: his lips are pretty and wonderfully swollen – you just can't help it. 

You go back in again, parting your lips to let him in. He's cradling your jaw, tracing a hand up your thigh and it feels good. Closing your eyes, you sink into the heady haze of booze, grabbing at his shoulders. They're not as broad as Miguel's, and Jun isn't as clean shaven. When you snake a hand to the nape of his neck; it's rougher than your roommate's hair, cropped into a boyish cut instead of Miguel's gentle curl. Sighing, you both come up for air, and you're almost disappointed at the distinct lack of red-brown blinking back at you. 

Nails on a chalkboard, and you're back in the room. You look around to amused faces, catching Lyla wide-eyed besides you. Jun's cheeky, placing a quick peck to the side of your mouth before sitting down. From your vantage point, you're scared to look, to really look , in fear of what you'll see. 

Miguel, in the corner, with a white hot grip on his beer bottle. Catching that stormy gaze, something just clicks. Something resembling power, absolutely intoxicating, that heady rush you got from kissing someone else. Or, more accurately, getting a reaction from your roommate. Notoriously unwavering, and yet … he reveals a gap in his armour. A silent swipe to the ribs that doesn't kill, but draws blood. 

People are dispersing now, growing tired of the games. Lyla darts off; with the attention span of an excited pomeranian, and the excessive alcohol, she's already lost interest. You take a breather, sinking into plush cushions and catch Miguel's eye. In the commotion, he's tossing his beer and walking up to you, as if gearing up to say something. 

Someone sits into the seat besides you: tall and handsome, but definitely not Miguel. It's Jun, who smells like fresh flowers and cut grass, nudging your side. 

"You're good at that," He says, with a little smile. 

"Good at what?" You say, confused. 

"That kiss." He seems a little bashful, probably sobering up. "It was… good. "

"Not…" You're distracted, eyes flicking over to find Miguel. He's gone. "Not my best work, I think."

He stretches an arm around the back of the sofa, caging you in a little closer, and all you can do is blink up at him. 

"....you want to try again?" 

He's handsome. He's flirting . And he's present; able to give you clear signs that he wants you. It's more than a certain someone can provide, and you're left with a deep-seated need that no-one else seems to be able to fulfill. Four words ring out in your head, clanging around like pinball. You. Might. Get. Laid. 

It's enough to have you leaning up against Jun, a hand tracing circles in his thigh and fluttering your lashes as best you can. Hopefully it's a look that's says seductive, and not pink-eye. This far into the night, you don't quite have the energy to care. 

Heavy petting and drunk giggling; you spend God knows how long in that little room, whispering stupid shit to each other. You introduce yourself, and so does he. A brief overview of your life; and you find yourself desperately trying to skip the small talk. Jun works with computers. You're a student. Jun is very good with his hands. You're a visual learner. Everything seems to fall into place. 

Soon enough, you're swapping numbers and leading him out the door to somewhere more private . His apartment ; you find yourself hoping, as you make your way downstairs. 

He's draping a jacket on your shoulders, and you wade through the crowd. The lights are spinning a little less, you find, holding onto Jun's palm. In that great big room; people packed in like black and white sardines; all you're looking for is something to tether yourself to – or someone. Relationships, you've learnt, were overrated. You're young, and single, and gorgeous ; able to bag whoever you want. And what do you want? A hookup, clearly; something simple and uncomplicated, without the mess of feelings to untangle yourself from in the morning. 

There's a commotion from a corner of the room, and Jun pulls you back; craning his head to see. A jumble of people, crowded around the epicentre. He nods towards the bustle. 

"Isn't that Miguel?" He shouts over the bass, and your eyes widen.

You push past, trying to get a better look. Flashing lights, pumping music. In the red and blue and black, he's there ; hand wiping a bloodied nose. He's saying something; and a couple of guys surround Miguel, giving rough shoves and shouting something you can't hear. Someone throws a punch and he takes it, barely shifting at the continuous blows. 

It's a sobering sight, and you're worried; looking left and right at the onslaught of bystanders.

"Why isn't he fighting back ?" You say, barely audible. No-one's doing anything but watching; one or two even pulling their phones out to record. The sight makes you sick, and you're shouting his name, trying to get closer. Like a gunshot, sudden and sharp and cutting through the noise, he locks eyes with you. His eyes dark, with that same look he gave you not too long ago. 

Another cruel kick, and he's down on one knee, clutching at his stomach. You notice the broken glass, the blood in his shirt. He's goading them, and still , he refuses to fight back. 250 pounds soaking wet and at least 6"5; he's a fucking killer – and everyone knows it. Why won't he fight back?

There's a pounding at your skull, and something deep and dark and complicated that twists around your insides, threatening to rise up – and then.. and then… 

The lights are turned on, and the music stops. Lyla's at the stairs shouting obscenities; telling everyone to get the fuck out, or I'm calling the cops. 

People disperse out the doors, but only a few rush towards Miguel. You do, of course, and then Jess is by his side to help him up. He must look worse than he feels because despite the bruising and pouring blood; he pinches the bridge of his nose like he always does, as if it's just a headache. He's laughing ; the smug bastard; incisors sharp and dangerous and flashing pearly white. Your heart's still racing; betraying complicated feelings. As the last dregs drip out of Lyla's apartment, you're all left to deal with the aftermath. 

Jess looks shaken, Lyla's sobering up; and you're holding Miguel's hand, elbow deep in the oil spill. 

_

_

_

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[whimsi-clown]

A New Form of Psychological Torture Discovered.

Part 2 of the Reverse Isekai Disney Villains x Modern Reader AU

(Or RIDV AU for short)

Warning: Still a whole lot of swearing and OOC

"So... What would you like to know first?"

You asked with your hands clamped together, gathering the energy of minimum wage customer service workers just for this moment.

Those people have the highest patience, and you so badly need that right now.

The rest of the villains remained silent, glancing at one another until Dr. Facilier spoke up.

"How about you start by telling us how we got here... Wherever here is..."

He spoke, leaning forward against the back of the couch, the rest of the villains nodding and muttering in agreement.

"Well, to borrow your words, Dr. Facilier... You're in my world now, not your world... And you guys are the friends on the other side that I seem to have... Accidentally summoned??"

Dr. Facilier raised a brow at that, wondering how you knew that phrase. The rest of the villains, however, either rolled their eyes or groaned in irritation.

"Yea, we know that, babes. Doesn't take a genius to figure that out. What we wanna know is how we got here."

You turned to Hades, whose flaming hair was now turning light orange at the tip, showing how quickly he was losing patience with you,

You nervously gulped at that. You're gonna have to speed this up if you want your mansion to remain intact, hoping that reason will save you from 3rd degree burns.

"Alright, alright. Look, I really don't know how you guys got here, but I can tell you what I've been doing before, and you can take away whatever from there. Is that fine with you all?"

Thankfully, most of the villains agreed with reason, turning to Maleficent, who had been silent for most of this entire exchange, for the final say.

"Very well, speak."

With the mistress of all evil's confirmation, you began summarizing the events before their unexpected arrival, from your employer's death, you moving into their mansion, the mysterious door you found, the random junk on pedestals, how you cleaned them, and then the wierd lightshow that happened after that which resulted in their arrival.

By the time you were done enumerating, you were already out of breath, panting as your mouth felt like it had just gone through a marathon.

Was this karma for all those times you didn't speak up during those group presentations?

The villains contemplated your words, processing every detail (including the ones they deemed useless and unnecessary) before Jafar finally decided to speak up.

"You mentioned having cleaned some... Random junk before our arrival, correct?"

He asked with a raised brow, the other villains turning to face you for confirmation and a silent order for you to fetch those items for them.

You nodded at that, wordlessly running back to the mysterious room to gather every item in your arms and rushing back to the living room, laying them on the coffee table.

Most of the villain's eyes lit up in recognition of some of the items, snatching them off the table and inspecting them closely.

Maleficent held onto her staff, watching as the crystal orb at the top glowed a soft green. (1st mistake, letting the tall dark fae hold onto what is the equivalent of a lethal magical weapon)

Grimhilde didn't seem too fond or attached to the mirror in her hand, but she appreciated still being able to admire herself in its fractured surface.

Hades didn't seem too attached to the item he held too, inspecting the lit torch with a raised brow.

Jafar on the other hand was all too eager with the lamp in his hold, aggressively rubbing its surface with the cloth of his wrist, only to let out an irritated huff when it did not yield the results he desired.

Captain Hook was carefully inspecting the silver hook and the iron hook he had on him with a critical eye, and after careful contemplation, he decided to trade his rusty iron hook for a clean silver one, disregarding it over his shoulder as he gleefully applied the new hook onto his arm. (2nd mistake, letting the fancy ass pirate attach a deadly weapon onto their person. At least you won't get infected with tetanus when he makes good on his promise to slice your throat)

Gaston was checking his hunting rifle for any marks or scratches on the surface, doing mock firing poses before letting out a hum of approval. (3rd mistake, does not need an explanation whatsoever. He is a big dumb man with a big gun) As he was about to set the hunting rifle down, he accidentally pulled on the trigger, causing everyone within the vicinity to flinch in surprise at the loud bang, looking up to see the large bullet hole that was made on the ceiling of your home, some debris falling off. (Case and point)

Shaking his head at Gaston's mishap, Dr. Facilier continued to shuffle the deck of tarot cards in his hands, effortlessly doing card tricks like it was second nature. (You may or may not have been momentarily entraced by the smooth and eye-catching movement)

Shan Yu, who had not said a word since the "summoning incident" stood at the far side of the room, leaning against a wall as he simply watched the scene before him, the sword now kept on a sheath that was strapped around him. (4th mistake, again, very self-explanatory. Big man who's literally and probably the only person in this room with the largest body count) Shan Yu's head turned to your direction when he felt your gaze on him, his gold eyes seeming to pierce through you, causing another unsettling chill to crawl down your spine.

You decided to quickly turn your gaze away from the ruthless hun leader and focus your sights back on the rest of the group.

Watching Scar boredly play with the lion skull like it was a sock puppet of some sorts, Ursula and Cruela already wearing the nautilus shell necklace and the exotic fur coat respectively, and finally Oogie Boogie rolling the pair of die around his pointy stub of sack he called a hand. (How the dices remained on his hand despite his lack of fingers is a mystery you will never learn the truth to)

"Great. Now that I've satiated your curiosity. I'm gonna go..."

You mumble aloud, not really caring if they heard you or not. You just wanted to escape to the kitchen right now. You were starving.

Before you could make your great escape, however, a gloved hand grabbed a hold of your shoulders.

"Now hold on just a moment darling, you haven't completely satiated our curiosities just yet..."

Cruela stated, her grip surprisingly strong for someone of her age and stature.

"She's right. We've still got one thing left to ask."

Says Ursula as she comes closer to you, a tentacle wrapping itself tightly around your leg, preventing you any chances to bail.

You begin to grow nervous as they all begin to crowd you once more.

"Uhm... And... What exactly... would that be?"

You hesitantly ask.

"You referred to us as... Disney Villains... Why?"

Grimhilde commanded, glaring down at you.

"And you best not deceive us, little one, because I'm starting to get quite... Hungry..."

Threatened Scar as he licked his tongue over his canines, eyeing you like you were gonna be his next meal.

...

Oh

...

O H

...

Oh shit.

Gods you and your big mouth, why did you have to say that before them? They obviously don't have any idea that they're works of fiction and entertainment like in Mickey's House of Mouse or Once upon a Studio.

Actually, how would they react to that?

It was never really shown how the characters coped with the idea of being created for the purpose of entertaining children.

So how would they respond to the realization that their lives had been depicted for them from the very start and that they had no actual say in the course of their stories?

...

A morbid curiosity begins to settle in your mind as a smile spreads across your cheeks, making the villains unconsciously flinch at the uneasy feeling that came with your wide and ecstatic grin as you look up at them.

"How likely are you all to suffer from an existential crisis?"

End of part 2

Previous Part, Next Part

[cryptidghostgirl]

I had this though on a cute little one shot for Alastor x chubby reader in the hotel I was wondering if you would like to run with it? Where the reader gets some nail varnish that matches their lip color without thinking about it. Alastor becomes rather fond of them wearing the color and eventually it vanishes after Angel points out that it’s almost the exact same color as the reader’s lips.

The reader ends up pouting a bit over it because they can’t find it anywhere in stores anymore. They ask Angel if they borrowed it to Angel’s confusioned response to the tune of “why the fuck would I want to wear your lip color?” And it gets to the point they ask for Nifty’s help finding it while Alastor is trying to avoid the topic entirely. Eventually Nifty DOES find it in the radio tower much to Alastor’s flustered frustration.

A/N oh hell yes i can do this. 11/10. Also I am skipping the fuck around in my request order, I am so nervous about posting cover up pt 4. I promise it will come out soon.

Spicy Sienna and Berry Naughty (Alastor x Gn!Chubby!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: Uhhh I got a little suggestive with this one guys. Sorry. Also,, Alastor is a little creepy and stalkery and has a thing about hands. This one just came out all around weird. Also, I named it after my favorite lip and nail polish matching combo so don't judge the fic by its name. Also Alastor sexualizes the reader a bit. Let me know if I missed anything. (guys i really have no idea what happened with this one, i am so sorry. I hope you still like it.) Also,, Alastor is for sure ooc.

Word Count: 3,675

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"Is that a new color?"

Alastor's ears perked up. He didn't turn to face the source of the sound but he listened. There was only one person in the hotel Angel would direct such a question towards after all.

"Yeah. It's essie, Berry Naughty is the name I think? Nail polish and makeup products always get called the silliest things. Do you like it?"

Y/n was the Hazbin Hotel's newest resident. They had arrived just a few weeks before, brought into the fold by Angel himself. The pair were old friends apparently, knew each other from back when they were alive.

"Yeah, it suits you. A lot more than that blue you used to wear."

There were three things the pair could be discussing in Alastor's mind. The first was Y/n's clothing. They were always dressed to the nines, decked out in some crazy ensemble or another.

At first, it had seemed foolish to Alastor. Anyone who cared that much about what they looked like had no shot at being an enjoyable person in his mind. That was before he had started to get to know the demon, seen the joy it brought them to indulge in fashion, realized the things they wore were for them and them alone. Everything had changed with that. It wasn't about persuasion, getting attention, facade. It was just who they were.

The thing about this first theory, however, was that Y/n almost never wore blue.

"Hey!" Y/n laughed, sounding a tad offended, "I liked the blue and I still might go back to it."

The second option was lipstick. Another little hobby the demon indulged in that had caused Alastor to misjudge their character upon their arrival was the makeup. Every few days, they would come down from their room in one crazy look or another. It was always something dramatic, coordinated perfectly to whatever else they had going on. If Y/n loved anything, they loved a theme.

Alastor had again made the mistake of assuming Y/n's enjoyment of such a thing was a representation of their vapidness when he had first met them. He would not be making that mistake again. The thing was, for all their wild self expression and experimental use of colors, he had never once see them sporting blue lipstick, he couldn't even picture it.

"What! I'm just sayin." Angel teased.

The third and final option, the one Alastor decided was what they must be discussing, was their nail polish. Y/n loved the act of painting nails, called it a ritual of self adoration. The way they talked about it, someone would think they were dedicating sacrifices at an alter to the gods. Every week, like clockwork, they would repaint them. Monday afternoons, four o'clock sharp. Their favorite color of late had indeed been a dark, almost black, blue. Alastor had liked it. The color had made something about their hands shine.

"Rude." Y/n scoffed in reply.

Alastor had always loved Y/n's hands. He had always had a thing about hands. In his opinion, hands were the most telling part of a person, or demon even. They showed nerves, experience, hard work -- went straight through to the core of who a person was. A carpenter's hands were rough, a cook's were scarred, an artists stained with color, a string musician's had calluses on the fingertips. Yes, a lot about a person could be learned from their hands.

Y/n's hands were soft, on the smaller side, and without the bony protrusions of their knuckles so many people seemed to admire now days. Alastor had never understood the desirability of skeletal thinness. It was impractical and uncomfortable. Y/n's hands suited them perfectly, Alastor thought. They were his favorite pair of hands to watch, the way they would flit across the keys of a piano, the way they kneaded the dough when she baked, the way they held a pen.

"I mean, it does match your lipstick now which is kinda a look."

At this, Alastor really did turn around. He couldn't help himself.

Y/n and Angel were lounging on the couches of the hotel lobby. They were dressed down, wearing a pair of jeans that hugged their legs and a crop top that accentuated their body perfectly. They looked soft, they looked comfortable, they looked delicious.

The idea of hunger was a complicated one. When Alastor thought of other demons as delicious looking, it was because he wanted to eat them, to consume their flesh that is. Y/n was certainly delicious but, he had no desire to eat them. Not like that, at any rate.

Angel had been right, Alastor could see it from across the room. The soft ruddy red of their nail varnish matched the gloss coating their lips perfectly. Alastor had always loved the color red.

"Wait, really?" Y/n asked, holding a hand up to their face, by their mouth, their nails turned out towards Angel, "Is it bad?"

"Nah, it's honestly kinda a look."

Y/n hummed, moving their hand from their face and staring intently at their nails.

"Maybe it'll be my new color then... This is the gloss I wear when I'm just doing normal makeup."

"Cohesion is key." Angel noted, "If you have a look to fall back on, people tend to like that in my experience."

Y/n stayed true to their word and Alastor relished in this revelation. Over the course of the next week, nearly every time he spotted them around the hotel, they were wearing that same combination of nail polish and lipstick. It was a secret indulgence of his, a treasure.

They nearly caught him staring one time as they were talking with him. It was nothing special, just one of their average, casual chats about the ethics of one situation or another. For someone who had ended up in Hell, Y/n had a soft spot for moral philosophy. It was clearly spill over from some preoccupation of their mortal self.

Mid conversation, he had drifted off. He hadn't meant to, it was the way they talked. Y/n was an animated conversationalist, always moving their hands to accentuate their words in one way or another. It drew his eyes to their hands and their face equally, their nails and their pretty, dark red lips.

"Hey, Alastor... Alastor!"

"Yes, my dear?" he had quickly replied, snapping out of his stupor.

"Are you alright?"

"Why on earth wouldn't I be?"

"You just kinda... trailed off there."

Alastor tried his best to push his embarrassment to the side, to shake it off his shoulders seamlessly. Miraculously, he succeeded. He wasn't quite sure how, when they were watching him with such concern filling their eyes, a slight pout to their lips.

"Just a little distracted. Lots to do today. My apologies, my dear."

"And here I thought you loved deontological thought." Y/n had teased.

Everything was fine. Alastor didn't mind Angel having noticed, it was a well known fact the spider demon saw Y/n as a sibling rather than a potential partner. The pair had grown up together and when Sir Pentious, one night, had asked whether or not they had ever messed around with each other, seeing how close they were and comfortable with physical contact, the pair had made eye contact before each putting on their own display of disgust.

Alastor was good at seeing through people, he knew it hadn't been a show. What was a problem was when Husk somehow noticed the pairing of their lip and nail color as well.

Alastor had been talking to Charlie about one thing or another as Y/n shared a drink with Sir Pentious at the bar. He was half listening to Charlie, half to their conversation. Alastor always kept an ear out for Y/n's saccharine tones.

The pair had been chatting about how their respective journeys to redemption were going when Husk had cut in.

"Did you match your nail color to your lipstick?" he asked in mild amazement.

Alastor bristled. That fact was his, was for him. No one else was allowed to see.

"Yeah!" he heard Y/n brightly reply, a tinge of pride to their voice.

Though Alastor's back was to them, he could picture the way they must be holding their delicate, gentle hands up now.

"Isn't it cute?"

Husk whistled.

"Damn, Angel is finally rubbing off on you."

"I mean, I guess." came Y/n's hesitant reply.

"You trying to catch someone's attention?"

Alastor could hear his own heartbeat in the silence that proceeded their reply.

"I mean, not on purpose. Not with this. I just like the way it looks... I don't know, it makes me feel... pretty."

Y/n was right. Alastor knew for a fact, had seen it with his own eyes, how irresistible the combination made them look. Now others were starting to notice it as well and, well, Alastor couldn't have that, now could he.

The next morning, when Alastor came down for breakfast, he noticed Y/n sitting at the table, looking uncharacteristically despondent. His back to them as he began to prepare his morning cup of coffee, he smiled.

"What's got you down, my dear?" he asked and Y/n sighed.

"My nail polish disappeared."

So, they had already noticed. Alastor picked the carton of milk up off the counter.

"Don't you have others? You're always a veritable rainbow of color!"

Alastor kept his voice light and cheery. His coffee made, he took a seat at the table across from them.

"Yeah, I guess. I just liked that one. It matched my favorite lipstick."

"Couldn't you try another color? That midnight blue last week was rather nice."

"Yeah, I guess." suddenly, their eyes shot up to his, a smile breaking out across their face, "Wait, Al! You're a genius! I'll just go buy another bottle!"

When Y/n returned from the store a few hours later, their gray cloud had returned.

"Are you alright?" Vaggie asked as they slumped onto the couch beside her.

Alastor couldn't help but note, from his hiding place, the way the act of sitting changed their body. They were beautiful standing, stunning even, but something about the way their thighs spread out over the surface of the couch...

"Yeah." Y/n grumbled, "Just... bummed."

"Oh no!" Charlie exclaimed, walking away from the bulletin board she was planning their next lesson on and joining the pair, "What happened?"

"It's stupid." Y/n groaned, throwing their head back.

"Wrong guy hit on you?" Angel teased and they immediately righted themselves, shooting him a glare.

"No." they pointedly replied, "Just... that nail polish? Berry Naughty or whatever its called? The one that matched my Spicy Sienna gloss?"

"Damn, you're pulling out the color names." Angel laughed, "Yeah, I know. What about it?"

"I can't find my bottle anywhere and I went to like seven different stores today and none of them had it! Not one! You didn't borrow it, did'ya Ant?"

Angel put a hand to his chest dramatically.

"Who, me?"

Y/n rolled their eyes.

"Nah." he waved them off, "You know I always ask before I borrow. I learned that lesson about you the hard way."

Y/n sighed despondently again.

"I'm sorry." Charlie hummed, patting Y/n's knee comfortingly, "I know it was making you really happy."

"It's silly." they shook their head, "It's just nail polish."

"Yeah but, it clearly brought you a lot of joy." Charlie insisted, "What if I ask Nifty to keep an eye out for it around the hotel?"

Alastor almost let the shadows hiding him from the group in the corner of the room dissolve in shock. He hadn't expected that. He had really thought everyone would just let it go. Yes, he knew Y/n would probably be upset about it for a few days but, that just gave him all the more of an excuse to be near them, to comfort them.

"Really Charlie?" Y/n brightened immediately, "You'd do that for me?"

"Of course! I mean, I'm not making any promises but, you know."

Y/n pulled themselves from the couch, throwing their arms around Charlie's neck.

"Oh, thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"It's just a nail polish." Vaggie chuckled, watching the interaction warmly.

Y/n let go of Charlie, who shrugged back at her girlfriend.

"It makes them happy."

Two weeks had gone by with no sign of the bottle of nail polish. Y/n still went to the stores every few days, checking for the color, but had yet to have any luck. Nifty too had come up empty handed.

Alastor was very pleased with himself. The trick of using his shadows to empty every store in the surrounding area of the color before Y/n went shopping was something he was particularly proud of.

Of course, all along, he knew where the missing item was. It was in the top drawer of his night table on the right hand side of his bed. Nifty only went in to clean his room maybe once a month or so and she knew better than to snoop. It was all going off without a hitch, even the comforting aspect. Alastor had had the absolute pleasure and honor of showing up at just the right place, at just the right time (imagine that), so as to be included with Angel when Y/n had the bright idea to see if she could find any other matching colors between her vast collection of lipsticks and lipglosses and even larger collection of nail polish. He wasn't sure how their hands could sustain that much acetone, or their skin that much makeup remover, but he was grateful for it nonetheless.

Alastor was in his studio, fixing one of the control panels, his mind filled with spinning memories of the past couple days (Y/n had even hugged him! The feeling of the cushion of their waist against his arms, their stomach, was not one he would soon forget), when he heard a knock at the door. He straightened up, eyeing it suspiciously.

The guests of the Hazbin Hotel, as well as its staff, knew better than to disturb him while he was at work. It's owners, on the other hand, were much more foolhardy. He ran a hand over his hair, straightening it a bit so as to make himself presentable, and called for the knocker to enter.

The door creaked as it swung open, just like Alastor wanted it to. A creaky door was a good thing, it made sure most people couldn't sneak up on him when he was at his most vulnerable, most distracted.

"You'll want to grease that." Y/n hummed as they stepped into the dingy space, "I think we have some WD40 in the basement, if you want me to bring it up for you."

They had never come to visit him up here before, never dared even come near the rotting wooden door. Alastor walked forward, shutting the door behind Y/n now that they were fully in the room. He was close enough to feel their breath on his skin as he smiled down at them.

"No need, my dear, although, I do appreciate the offer."

A silence fell between the pair as Y/n took a few steps further into the room, their eyes running across every surface available before them. Alastor noticed their hands were clasped behind their back. It wasn't an unusual position for them but, something seemed different about it this time.

"What can I help you with?" he cordially asked and Y/n turned to face him.

"Well... I... um..." they locked eyes with Alastor, finding their words at last, "Nifty found something today. While she was cleaning."

Alastor was glad Y/n's demon form was not all that powerful in this moment. If it was, they would have heard his heartbeat spike. His voice, his demeanor, even his expression were easy to control but his heart? Not so much.

"Oh?"

"Yeah... I..." Y/n trailed off.

With a sigh, they brought their hands forward, opening them to reveal the source of Alastor's anxiety. Nestled there, in the softness of their palm, was the nail polish.

"She found it! Congratulations, my dear. You must be thrilled."

"Yeah." Y/n replied uncertainly, looking away.

Alastor knew why they were so uncomfortable, but his hope was stronger. There was an uncanny sense of optimism in him, one that was unfounded and unfamiliar. It drove him to pry, to see how much they really knew. For all Alastor knew, there could be something else entirely going on.

"Where was it?"

"I..." Y/n looked back at him once again, "That's the problem, Alastor. Nifty said... well, she said she found it in your room."

"In my room?" Alastor repeated, feigning confusion, a hand to his chest in mock surprise.

Y/n nodded.

"In your night table drawer."

They must have known him better than he thought, have seen the flash of sudden anger in his eyes or something like that, maybe he had tense his body. Whatever had ticked them off, they continued.

"She didn't open it. Nift said it was open and went to close it and just... spotted it in there so don't get mad at her, she didn't do anything wrong."

Alastor stood in silence, watching Y/n carefully.

"I just... Look, I'm not mad, I am just confused. Why was it in your room, did you take it from me?"

A shock of nerves fluttered in Alastor's stomach. The heat rushed to his cheeks and he looked away, a hand flying instinctually to his collar and tugging at it just the slightest bit, as if the room was too hot. It was all the answer Y/n needed.

"Why?"

Alastor turned back to Y/n and nearly stumbled back a few steps when he realized how much closer they had brought themselves to him. Nearly every other time, he was the one to bridge the distance, to step into their personal space. His breath caught in his throat, a sort of thrill flooding his mind.

"I... I..."

He had stuttered. Alastor didn't stutter. He had never stuttered, not even when he was alive.

"You..?" Y/n prompted, leaning forward slightly.

His mind was reeling. He couldn't tell if that was their goal, secretly, if they had finally realized the effect they had on him and begun to use it to their advantage. Alastor looked away again.

"It was..."

"You knew it was my favorite. Why did you take it?"

Fuck.

They were upset, maybe even angry. Alastor had seen them mad before but it had never been directed towards him. Normally, he would relish in the wrath of another but Y/n's wrath? Fuck. He realized right then and there, he would rather die.

"Husk." he admitted at last, his hands now fiddling with the cuffs of his jacket, his face flushed.

Alastor dared a glance at Y/n. Their brow was furrowed.

"Husk?"

"Yeah. Husk."

"I... why Husk? Did he dare you? Did he... I... what?"

Whatever feelings they had previously held had been replaced by pure confusion. Alastor could handle confusion. The situation at large was still unwelcome and rather untenable but, at least there was the confusion.

"He..." Alastor cleared his throat, brave enough to meet their eyes again at last, "He noticed."

"Noticed.... oh."

"Yeah."

They fell silent. This wasn't a thing Alastor had felt since he was very young. There was a wild animal in his chest. In this moment, he didn't just look like a deer, he was one and Y/n was the hunter with their gun trained on the spot between his eyes.

"It wa-"

"Did you also take it off the shelves all over the neighborhood?"

They had always been smart, smarter than he gave them credit for. Alastor grimaced, nodding slowly.

"Alastor, why did it bother you so much? Is it illegal to match my nails to my lips? Does it go against your... your weird ass deontological code?"

"No, it's just... it was... fuck!"

Y/n had never heard him curse before. A hand flew to Alastor's head, he took a deep breath.

"Alastor, I-"

"It was for me, okay? I... I didn't want anyone else noticing. It was just for me."

Y/n looked somehow even more confused as he lowered his hand once again. The releif that had accompanied the admission was greatly outweighed by his anxiety as he waited for their response.

"But Angel noticed too? Before Husk?"

"That's different." Alastor sighed, "He... You... I..."

"Alastor, what's going on?"

There was concern now, lacing their voice in its gentle vines. It almost made everything worse.

"I like you, okay!? There. Are you happy now!?"

He didn't know why he was yelling. Y/n's eyes went wide.

"You... like me? Like, like like me?"

He glared at them and they put their hands up in surrender.

"Just trying to clarify the situation!"

Alastor rolled his eyes, crossing his arms protectively over his chest.

"Yes. I... like like you or... whatever nonsense you just said. Are you happy now?"

It was a stand off, each training a metaphorical pistol at the other. Y/n was the one to finally break.

"Yes." they curtly replied, crossing their arms to mirror his position, "I'll... I'll let you get back to work now."

Someone had driven a nail right through Alastor's chest and into his heart. He watched their retreating form as they opened the door and slipped out into the hallway. Just as it was about to fall shut, they miraculously stuck a foot between the closing door and its frame, peeking their head back into the room.

"Just so you know: if you asked me out on a date," they began, their eyes flicking up to his from where they had previously been fixed on the floor, "I'd say yes."

-----

A/N Ant is a pretty common nickname for Anthony in NYC (where I am from and where I'm pretty sure Angel is supposed to be from). Yes, I will be using it in another fic I am working on too (its part two of Unexpected (Vox x Reader). Also,, deontology is when you have a strict set of ethical rules/maxims you stick by no matter what (Kant is a deontologist).

TAGS:

@willowshadenox @i-love-jafar @elfyeet @reader3 @lazygirlfanfic0-0 @kahlan170 @wendyphan01203-blog @fairyv-ice @clarakainda @lunaramune @mcueveryday @luxky-aish @peterpankat @corvid007 @juskonutoh @simpingsohard @sethianaa @gabile18 @slytherin4ever @skyeliteratures @zombiesnips-blog

[jgracie]

I CAN FIX HIM (NO REALLY I CAN)

masterlist | rules

❝ Can you please writhe a one shot with Jason and daughter of Psyche reader based on the song “I can fix him(no really i can)” by Taylor?Like imagine some time later when Jason is finally free from his demigod duties and goes to college with his friends,here he meets reader.Since she is a daughter of Psyche (the goddess of the human soul)she understands him immediately and she help him understand himself,discovering what he likes and to heal from his past and of course they fall in love. ❞ — anon

in which they shook their heads saying “god help her,” when you tell ‘em he’s your man

pairing jason grace x psyche!reader

warnings feelings of self loathing, slight bullying

on the radio . . . i can fix him (no really i can) (taylor swift)

an they r in new rome uni in this !! i feel like jason is a tad ooc but also its 11:30pm as im posting this and im tired

Everything you heard about Jason Grace screamed ‘red flag’. Son of Jupiter, ex-praetor, raised by wolves then sent to camp at the mere age of three or four - what was there not to be afraid of? To add to that, the way he carried himself exuded power in a way that would make anyone cower in fear. His face was inscrutable, crystal blue eyes unreadable in the same way the storms his father made were

However, you weren’t anyone. Your mother was Psyche, goddess of the soul. And as a daughter of Psyche, you could see right through just about everyone, including Jason Grace. Whenever you tapped into his energy, you couldn’t help but feel he was the complete opposite of what he presented himself as. While Jason seemed content with solitude to everyone around him, you knew that deep down, he was just seriously misunderstood and in desperate need for some loving

You were right. Jason’s life had been hell, especially the past couple years. His memory had been taken away from him, making him lose ties with all his friends and a potential lover, Reyna. Then, he’d gotten a new girlfriend and new friends, only for his girlfriend to dump him and his friends to all be too busy to spend a single second with him. Still, Jason had persevered. He applied and got accepted to New Rome University, he attended all his lectures, he got perfect grades, he tried his best to socialise. 

The latter never worked out though. People either saw him as Jason the traitor, the guy who’d chosen to leave with the Greeks instead of fighting for his camp (Jason would stifle a laugh at the phrase ‘his camp’ - if this were really his camp, they wouldn’t have easily found a guy who’s the epitome of everything un-Roman to replace him. They weren’t any better), or as Jason the soldier, the man who’d toppled Kronos’ throne and won in a fight against the titan Krios, absolutely untouchable and worshipped in a way that would make his father seethe with jealousy

Eventually, he gave up. If that’s how they wanted him to be, so be it. He shut himself off from the world, focusing solely on his studies and his plans for shrines for every God and Goddess. Little did he know, a certain someone was formulating the perfect plan to become his friend

Your plan backfired. You’d spent weeks keeping note of all the classes you had with Jason, even occasionally following him to see where he’d go after class (his dorm, immediately), and yet you couldn’t seem to get a single conversation out of him. The closest you’d gotten was when you sat next to him in one of your lectures and dropped your pen - he’d simply handed it to you without a word. For the split-second your fingers brushed, you took on all his pain and felt it pull you apart. How could he cope with all of this baggage? 

Luckily for you, the fates work in mysterious ways that in this case, happened to be in your favour

“Oh, I’ll leave. Sorry.” Someone mumbled from behind you. You had been having a hard time sleeping as it was exam season, meaning everyone’s late night stress as they did last minute cram sessions piled onto you, so you decided to go to the one place you knew would be quiet. It was a small garden you’d discovered as a freshman and dubbed as ‘your spot’, and you’d often come when you were feeling extra overwhelmed

Turning your head, your eyes widened as you saw none other than Jason Grace, who was about to go back to his dorm

“No, wait! You can stay, I don’t mind,” this was a first for Jason. Usually, people would go the other way at the sight of him, not offer to let him sit with them. He felt a gut-wrenching, yearning feeling in his stomach, and you felt it too. Softly, you patted the spot on the bench next to you. It was quiet between you, but with that simple gesture, you had made an everlasting mark in Jason’s mind

After that night, instead of leaving his bag on the seat next to him, Jason would put it on the floor in hopes that you’d see the empty seat and choose to sit there. You, ever the empath, did. The more you sat with Jason, the more words were said between you. You started the conversations, of course, asking him about his day and telling him about whatever minor inconvenience you had that morning

“I ran out of toothpaste,” Jason had said to you one day as you took your laptop out of your bag. This was his first time initiating a conversation. He wasn't sure why he did it, and cringed internally the moment those words came out of his mouth - toothpaste, Jason, really? - but you’d smiled and asked if he wanted to come with you to the shops after class, since you also needed to stock up on some supplies

That was the day Jason’s walls began crumbling down. Suddenly, he seemed to loosen up. His posture slackened and he smiled more often, told more jokes and even engaged in your banter. People gave the two of you weird looks as you walked around New Rome in fits of laughter, but neither of you cared 

Well, not until one fateful day. Jason had been making his way to class with two coffees in hand, one for you and one for himself, when he’d overheard two people deep in conversation. He’d never been one to eavesdrop, but when he heard your name being mentioned, he couldn’t help himself

“That poor girl, she has absolutely no idea what she’s getting herself into,” one of them said. The other hummed in agreement, pity laced in his voice 

“She thinks she’s doing a good thing, being friends with him and all, but he’s just going to break her heart like he did Reyna’s. Jason Grace is no good.”

He nearly dropped his coffees. Suddenly, all the confidence he’d built came crumbling down, being quickly replaced with those walls he knew all too well, the only things he could trust other than you. Since he loved you so dearly, this was for the best. You’d find some other guy to befriend eventually. If all of Camp Jupiter could replace him after years of service, who’s to say you couldn’t after a couple months of being friends?

Coincidentally, you happened to be looking for Jason when you saw him standing there, a blank look on his face - the same one people had warned you about in your first year at NRU. This time, however, they didn’t have a fighting chance in fooling you. Even without your powers from being Psyche’s daughter, you knew Jason was a sweet guy with the kindest heart

“Jason, are you alright?” You asked, reaching to place a tender hand on his shoulder. He pulled away and your face dropped as you tuned into his feelings and realised the old Jason was making a comeback. It’s not like he’d ever been gone, no one ever gets rid of lifelong trauma and horrible experiences that quickly, but Jason’s aura hadn’t felt that self-loathing in a very long time

Looking behind you, you saw a couple give you a pitying look and the pieces clicked immediately. Scowling at them, you took Jason by the arm and dragged him to that garden where you first spoke. The garden that was no longer just your spot

“Whatever they said, I don’t care,” you told him, “they’re wrong, Jason. You can’t listen to them. From the moment I met you I knew they were wrong. Don’t let them win.” His eyes stared into yours, completely emotionless. His guard was up, and you didn’t know why (slight btd ref!!). Didn’t he trust you? 

His voice monotone, Jason replied, “this isn’t just about them, Y/N. You have no idea what I’ve been through. You don’t deserve to have to deal with that, it could affect you too. You could be making so many friends right now and yet you haven’t, because you chose to stick with me.”

The tension rose between you and you knew there was only one thing you could do: succumb to the pull he had on you once and for all. Grabbing him by the collar, you pulled Jason closer to you and kissed him fiercely

When you pulled away, you took a second to take in Jason’s dishevelled look before replying, “I don’t care. I’ll choose to stick with you in every lifetime.”

[iloveroblox48]

heart to heart ❣︎

❣︎ ➝ Masterlist here!

❣︎ ➝ Tags:having a heart to heart with megumi fushiguro fluff and light angst mentions of blood and fighting

❣︎ ➝ A/n:hi guyss! as you can see this is a jjk fic its my first time writing for this anime so sorry if he seems ooc （◞‸◟）anyways this is based off that one scene in the anime i thought of this and i had to write something up because ya girl be thinking them thoughts (๑>ᴗ<๑) anyway ignore any grammar/spelling mistakes requests open as always enjoy ⁽˙³˙⁾

When you first starting dating megumi you knew he wasnt the pda type in fact the most he could do was lock pinkies,or maybe through an arm around your waist when someone was staring at you for to long.That was all okay beacause when alone he was the most clingy,cuddlebug there was.

Everytime you guys cuddled he would lay on your chest ear to your heart,sometimes he just lays a hand on your heart,you never questioned it because it was so cute!You wouldn’t ask because it something much deeper than cuddling.It was him making sure you were never leaving,him or this planet.Ever since that day he saw sukuna rip out yuji’s heart he always wanted to make sure you were really there.

Well being a jujutsu sorcerer wasnt always spending time with megumi there was training, and of course exercising curses.He always worried for you when you went on missons he knew you could hold your own ,you’ve never messed up on a mission,never had to call back up and you always won but when winning these battles you lost a little bit of your body everytime,a new scar appering some deep some shallow,it made his heart clench in his chest.

It was supposed to be a calm afternoon with him and some friends until gojo had called you on a last minute mission to deal with some low grade curses.

“hey megumi i know we were supposed to have lunch with everyone but i have to rain check..gojo sent me on a last minute misson”

“okay please be safe” he sighed

“of course i will when am i not! anyways im almost there call you when im done bye love you”

“bye love you”

You arrived to the sight and when you got there you knew something was off,the presence of the curses being stronger than gojo had said probably another carefree mix up on the paper.

“I’m seriously going to kill him” you thought

While you were exercising the curse another one appeared behind you giving you a big slash on the back.You quickly ripped up some of your uniform and wrapped the gash the best you could to prevent blood loss.After about an hour of fighting all the curses you had finally defeated them,but your body was so sore you had cuts all on your back and some on your stomch none fatal though you quickly called gojo.

“whats up my favorite sorcerer! hows taking down those curses going?”

“i just got done..tell ijichi to come get me..and tell shoko to get ready for me”it was so hard to talk when your throat was suffocated with blood

“yeah you got it he’ll be there soon”

gojo hanged up the phone,you barely had to wait considering the fact that you asked for shoko so gojo knew something was up and told ijichi to get there as fast as he could.you had gotten in the car and passed out lack of blood probably.

All you remember was waking up in shokos office on the table,the bright lights of the room blinding you.You tried to get up but she quickly pushed you down.

“Lay down kid you have a few small stitches and you need some rest but other than that you will be good in no time”she informed you

You were laying down on the table when all of a sudden the doors busted open you quickly peek your head up to see who it was,and to your surprise it was megumi he normally didnt visit he hated seeing you like this so this was odd.You sat up fully legs hanging off of the table you patted the spot next to you telling him to sit with you.He sat down and you could tell he was about to tell you off.

“whats wrong with you? you should of called somone for backup,something could have happened to you”He said concern taking over his face

“but nothing did happen to me”

“but something could of..i mean look at you”

“okay ouch”

“not like that idiot..i mean..i could have lost you”his face turned into pout

“but you didnt so dont dwell on the negative stuff”you said.you took his hand and placed it on top of your beating heart “see im right here megumi,ill always be right here”you pressed your forehead to his.

“Your such an idiot you know that? i think gojo is rubbing off on you.”

“oh please dont say that” you scoffed

Ever since that day you stopped being so reckless on missions so you could stay true to word and you did.

you were always right there with him heart still proudly beating in your chest.

[plotsignificanthaircut555]

Equivalent Exchange (curse user! Nanami x sorcerer! Reader) SMUT, 18+, MDNI

Kento Nanami's defection was at one point amicable, until a string of very precise murders indicates your former classmate may have taken a turn. Maybe you can help him come back to himself. or....

Ao3 Obviously inspired by all the villain Nanami art esp (@yuutaguro and @ivoreene) this shit got wild ngl. So incredibly OOC its insane.

Content Warnings: ANGST, GUYS SO ANGSTY, lots of manipulation, this is NOT HEALTHY behavior, smoking, kissing, fingering, oral, degradation, slapping, spit, Nanami is being a freak, but you are matching that freak, let's call this deranged by consensual :).

Smoke curls in a paisley storm contained within the shaft of dim golden light emanating from the out of style lamp on the bedside table. A piece of wire had poked out from the lining of the seat cushion underneath you, poking itself into the tender meat of your thigh. The cigarette in between your fingers was nearly all ash, held together only due to your stillness, sloping downward toward the stained carpet below. It must have been ten minutes since you lit it, and you hadn’t moved an inch, not daring to break your gaze on the door. He was an hour and a half late, actually he was 96 minutes and 45 seconds late. 46, 47, 48, 49, 50. He was late the last time, too. Prior to-- everything-- he had been extremely punctual. He had been a lot of things. 

This morning he called out of the blue from a blocked number, his voice rough and betraying nothing of his condition; emotionally or physically. 

“Luna Hotel, under Helmer, 10 o’clock.” 

Your skin went cold, you choked out a small sound of acknowledgement, but before you could speak the line went dead. The line droned, tears stung your eyes; clouded vision and full ears gave you a moment of placelessness, your office, the school, this world dissolving around you. It was him, it was really happening. It had been so long since you had heard his voice, but you could have picked him out of a crowd of thousands if he were whispering.

 It was really happening, your throat tightened but you swallowed down the knot before it could choke you. With a deep breath the tears faded and you returned to your body within your small office at Jujutsu High. Finally setting the phone on its hook, the tone died, making the beating of your heart fill the space left in your ears. It was still early, you had an entire day of teaching to complete, and you couldn't let anyone-- even the most observant among your coworkers-- catch on. Twelve hours had passed in calculated normalcy, externally engaged as always; teaching your class, laughing with coworkers, but internally you had a singular thought. 

You were seeing Nanami tonight. 

Kento Nanami had defected from Jujutsu society eight years prior, following the previous defection of Suguru Geto and, more personally affecting, the death of his classmate and partner Yu Haibara. Initially it was an understood amicable defection, it was unusual but not unheard of for sorcerers to decide to follow other paths. Geto was, of course, an unfortunate exception. You had been able to keep in touch with Nanami as he attended a fast tracked university and got a job working as a finance specialist for businesses both in Japan and internationally. It wasn’t as though he wasn’t around at all anymore, he would attend group events every few months, stop by a birthday party or a night of drinking. But as the time since his leaving went on you saw less and less of him, work schedules and personal responsibilities making it rarer and rarer. Two years ago, he stopped calling completely, stopped responding to text messages and emails. You were beginning to wonder if you should do a wellness check at his office or see if you could find his address. 

That was until you found yourself in an all school meeting to discuss a recent string of murders. Shaking across the table from Satoru Gojo, Ieri Shoko, and the rest of the staff as Principle Yaga detailed how the victims were all cut with a surgeon's precision into various pieces, when Shoko was able to reassemble them the pattern emerged. The disassemblement occurred at a 7:3 ratio at Every. Single. Point. 

The pictures on the table were horrific, gory, visceral, but what brought bile to your throat was the thought of Nanami being the executioner. Your brain couldn't render the image of him killing a human person. You had seen him kill dozens of curses, seen his skill and finesse in real time, but you couldn’t piece that together with the images in front of you now. These men weren’t just killed, they were butchered. 

“What do we know about the victims?” Gojo asked. 

“Wealthy, mostly inherited wealth, all of them have ties to the same organized crime group that we have followed for some time.” Yaga explained, thankful for the chance to look somewhere else than the photographs on the table, “drugs, weapons, human trafficking, you name it.” 

Gojo shrugged and leaned back in his chair, “Nanamin always had an intense sense of justice.” 

He was right, you thought it too, and you were willing to be everyone else in the room thought the same. You still hadn’t spoken, your throat was dry and closed, your brain was too stuck on trying to piece together an image of the man you knew doing this. 

“He did. Vigilante or not…”Yaga continued, now unable to look anywhere but the pictures, “The higher ups have caught wind of this being a curse user, thankfully they don’t pay enough attention to techniques so they’re not exactly sure who is responsible.” 

Yaga stood and added a blurry photograph to the board. Nanami, you could just barely make out his features, his strong nose, his golden eyes. It must have been taken from a surveillance camera before the feed was wiped, he looked right at the camera, an expression of focus and hatred marred across his face. Your heart lurched at the sight of him so angry. No…not angry. Pained. 

“There are laws that prohibit sorcerers from intentionally taking human life. The unregulated use of jujutsu against civilians is cause enough to call for our response. Nevermind the…brutality. ”

Yours and every other pair of eyes in the room flicked to Gojo, he noticed, although he did not let on. You felt your cheeks burn, Nanami was Gojo’s friend, however reluctantly. Gojo had been closer with Geto than anyone else, and now he had been betrayed not once but twice.

“The sooner we…”Yaga’s words caught between his teeth, “react, the better. Reducing the liability of exposure and continued loss of life.”

The meaning he danced around began to set in. They wanted to kill Nanami. They wanted to send someone in this room out there to kill him. Gojo realized it too, starting to argue but his and the principal's voices began to fade, a ringing taking its place, and increasing in volume. Your skin began to go cold. The meeting continued around you, although as it turned to a fight no one seemed to notice your mental absence. You couldn’t let this happen, you wouldn't. 

That night you sent one last email to the last alleged work email of Nanami’s that you had been able to dig up. One that had been hiding his new company’s directory just waiting to be found by you. All it had taken was one call to their payroll department posing as the hysterical disgruntled wife possibly being cheated on by the project manager of Nanami’s team. You used an email of your own that you reserved primarily for spam, business sign ups and the like, one that didn’t have your name or any of your initials, one that no one would associate with you.  

Loyalty doesn’t expire. They’re looking. 

That was two months ago. Until his call today you didn’t know if the address was still active, if he had access to it, if he had ever seen it. But now, after a single call months later, you were in the Luna Hotel room 819 reserved under the name Helmer. Of course he chose that name, strange enough to stick out just the right amount, but anyone looking would find it as a fake, stolen from a famous play. They didn’t know how Nanami had gifted you a copy of Henrik Ibsen’s A Doll’s House when you were still in school. How he told you about his grandmother in Denmark who loved it too; how she took him to see it once, probably far too young, on a holiday to visit her. They wouldn’t know what it meant between the two of you. You still had the exact copy he gave you, you must have poured over those pages a hundred times since you had seen him last. That same copy currently sat at the bottom of the small go bag you had stashed under the bed…just in case.

It was approaching midnight, and he still hadn’t arrived. Exhilaration that had been keeping you upright was beginning to wane. The light flickered, your cigarette ash finally fell to the floor, you didn’t care about the carpet, you didn't care about the sleep pulling at your eyes, you didn’t care about the ache of the day settling into your stagnant bones. You were so close, you couldn’t turn back now. 

You felt him before the knock came. The breath vacated your body, his cursed energy filling your senses, tears rushed to your eyes but were quickly cast aside as his knuckles tapped against the door. You stood, but didn’t move to the door. A chime came from the door lock, followed by the whirring of mechanized deadbolt retracting. You fought away the urge to tense up as he entered the room. 

Tall, perhaps even taller than before, certainly wider. He must have put on forty pounds of sheer muscle since the last time you saw him, every inch of him seemed developed. Wide shoulders, sturdy, quiet legs. His hair was shorter, choppier than the neat styled fringe you had been used to. A severe undercut at the back of his neck showed where he had been cut in a healed pink scar. There were more scratches and scars than you expected. You didn’t know what you expected. But it wasn’t this, this wall of strength standing before you now, dark blazer buttoned, small impression on his back where you knew his blade was strapped to his back. Finally you were able to regain the composure to look at his eyes. Golden, honey brown locked right with yours. It could have been the flickering light, or your delirium but you thought you saw them crinkle slightly at the sight of you. Nanami let out an even breath, looking you over once, the door clicking shut behind him.  

“It’s really you.” His voice washed over you like a warm coastal wave. 

“It’s really you.” You echoed, taking in the face you once knew so well, the parts that were different, the parts that remained. 

He stared down at you, the same analytical look on his face, taking in every inch of the woman you had become. You were different than when he had left, you changed your hair-- although so had he, your body had lost its teenaged gawkiness and you stood with so much more confidence than you had before. You filled your clothes better, you were maybe even taller. But your expression looking at him, the shine in your eyes, the flush in your cheeks, it was exactly the same 

“Part of me expected this to be a trap.” He sighed out, unbuttoning his blazer and starting to slide it down his arms, turning away from you briefly. 

As he did, you caught sight of his wrapped knife in its holster. The white and black wrapping was now stained a deep crimson, without your encouragement your mind returned to those photographs on the conference room table. What he had done, and how. How skilled he really was with that blade. You closed your eyes briefly attempting to squeeze out the images. When you opened them you saw him studying you, a silent assessment taking place that you weren’t sure if you were passing. 

“No one else knows where you are?” He asked, voice even and deep. 

“No. I know how to be discreet.” You answered, a bit too quickly. 

“Did you drive?”

You shook your head, “I took the train, paid cash, got off two stops before the closest, walked the rest of the way.” 

“It’s dangerous to walk alone at night.” he chided, tone almost mocking you-- or maybe himself, “Your phone?”

“I turned it off before I left, removed the SIM card, you can check it if you like.” you offered, gesturing to your purse on the table next to him. 

Nanami’s eyebrows raised cautiously, deciding to call your bluff and reach inside. You didn't even flinch, you had nothing to hide, only something to prove. You were mesmerized by his every twitch, the way his hair moved with him now, how his eyes scanned over everything meticulously. Shadows of the Nanami you knew and the Nanami that was captured on those cameras merging together. He pulled your cell phone from your bag, seeing it was switched off, he checked the side for the SIM card and saw it was missing. A small smile itched the edges of his mouth. 

“Nanami I promise, you can trust me. I sent for you, I put my job, my life on the line just to be here.” You wished you didn't sound quite as pathetic as you did when you asked him to trust you. 

Nanami set your phone back in your purse and faced you, “That’s right, you did.”

His face remained pleasant as he took a seat in the same armchair you had occupied. He took up so much more space now, broad and wide, thick and sturdy, his thighs strained the fabric of his pants as he settled in front of you. 

“Take your shirt off.” 

You felt your chest heat up, inching toward your cheek by the millisecond, you shifted your weight. 

“Wh-what?”, you nearly laughed, taken aback,. 

“I need to see that you don't have a bug or a wire or something else.” He leaned back in the chair, one elbow propped up on the arm rest. 

“Kento, I-I wouldn't.” You wanted him to believe you, you wanted him to know that you would never turn him in or put him in danger like that. 

Nanami cocked his head, “You trust me too, right?” 

You nodded. He gestured for you to continue. 

You had changed after work into something neutral, something that would let you blend in and not be noticed as you snuck here. You unbutton your shirt slowly, hand trembling slightly before you swallow and get them back under your control. When you had undone the final button and opened the lapels, revealing your body clad in only your black bra and slid the rest of the shirt down your shoulders and onto the floor. You stood in front of him, feigning your own neutrality, however futile after your previous hesitation. 

“Turn” he instructed. And you did, slowly so he could see your sides and back clearly. 

Nanami gave a hum of approval as you turned away from him completely. You didn’t hear his approach but you felt his body heat as he moved behind you. 

“No weapons?” He spoke softly now, his breath hot against the back of your ear. 

You shook your head. 

“No…”He sounded pleased, “they wouldn’t send you to kill me, would they?” 

You felt his hand on your hip, just ghosting over the surface of your skin. You wanted to melt into him, to weep in his arms, to succumb to every fantasy you held privately in his absence, to berate him for leaving, to beg him to stay. But you stayed still and let his fingers on your flushing skin be enough for now. 

“You’ve always had a soft spot for me, huh?” His hand moved your chin to the side to meet his eyes, nearly black like the eyes of a shark, only a corona of his usual honey brown remaining. 

You nodded, your lips subconsciously reaching for his. 

“So who are they sending?”, His voice returned to the dark, unflappable tone from before.

“Yaga wants Gojo to do it.” the words left you before you even thought, whatever spell or curse or hypnosis you were under sucking the truth from you directly into his mouth.  

Nanami paused for a second, studying your face in his hand, “I’m flattered.” 

Nanami let you go, his eyes flicking down to your lips before truly letting you go. He moved back to the table and opened your cigarettes. You caught your breath and followed his arc with your eyes, unsure of whether you should redress or not. He took a dart from your pack and lit it between his lips quickly. 

“I thought you didn’t smoke anymore.” You noticed his practiced hold, the easy way he inhaled. 

“So did I.” He sighed, sitting back in the chair, “A lot of things I thought were true and proving to have been ....unreliable.” 

You stepped closer, just barely, “Nanami, what happened. I thought you were happy to be out, what was so awful to make you come back… like this?”

Nanami thought for a second, his brow furrowed, the deep elevens on his face that had been present since childhood now much deeper. He took another drag of the cigarette before answering. 

“You don't know these guys….their monsters. All of them.” He shook his head, eyes fixed on memories that were not visible to you, “They want only for themselves no matter the cost, they betray one another, they betray order and decency. And the things they expect from you to join their little ...club” he took another fevered drag, stopping the thought there, “And we, those who can actually do something about it, are forced to benevolently observe? I just don’t understand the point anymore.”

You approached him carefully, he was locked into his own head enough that he wasn’t watching you. 

“I won't protect some and not others. Not on the basis of the humanity of evil. Curse or Human, evil has no place. Not while sorcerers sacrifice themselves left and right while the real dangers are out of our jurisdiction” Whatever atrocity had been replaying in front of his eyes concluded and he finished what remained of the cigarette. 

Sorcerers, Ours, We 

You weren’t sure if he realized it himself, but he was still including himself amongst you. He considered himself a sorcerer even now, upholding the responsibility to protect those who cant protect themselves. You took the filter from him and discarded it on the table, feeling bold enough to reach over him to do so. Still topless you leaned into him on your return. 

“I think it’s noble what you did, Kento.” You confessed, “We shouldn’t have to sit by and do nothing when we can make a real difference. Not when you can.” 

You felt one of his big hands move over the back of your neck, hard enough to keep you in place but affectionately enough to not jar you. What do you have to be worried about? It’s Nanami, he would never hurt you. 

“That’s why you’re here, you want to help, right?” he nodded in time with you in response. 

“Anything Nanami, anything.” You dared to touch the side of his face, feeling his soft even skin. Even now, he was as perfect as he had been in your memories. 

He leaned into your touch, like a wild animal indulging in the first kind touch after unending isolation. He was beginning to believe you, in your devotion, in your loyalty, in your usefulness. 

“Anything?” He hummed at you, pulling your face even closer.  

“Yes.” You could feel his breath on your lips, you could see the freckles on his face, having multiplied in number since last you studied them. 

“Then you have to derail the plans for my execution.” He held you still, no longer inching toward your eager lips. 

You felt your eyes go wider than dinner plates. 

“Lose documentation, mix up data, get rid of photos, anything.” His tone was deadly serious, his grip tightened on your neck, his eyes bore into yours looking for any kind of hesitation, “No one has access to more information in that place than you. I know you can do this.”

Your heart swelled at his assurance, saiting your own fear as it rose inside of you. You looked into his kind, patient face and felt all the apprehension slip away. You finally feel secure enough to ask him the one thing you want the most. 

“Can’t I go with you?” You pleaded, wanting nothing more than to never be parted from him again. 

He shook his head slowly, cupping your face so sweetly., “It’s too dangerous. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you, honey.” 

You warm at the title he’s awarded you, his demonstration of care for you. Your joy soars exponentially when he pulls you into his lap, one arm around your waist, the other keeping your gaze locked with his. His thumb strokes your cheek and you feel your cheek whetted by an unannounced tear that has left you. 

“Kento…”You shudder, “why did you leave me. I would have gone with you, you never asked. I thought-- I thought we… had something. I thought you wanted me.” 

“Oh love, I did. I do. I lost myself after Yu, I had to leave, I couldn’t control my anger and I didn’t want to hurt you. I didn’t want you to see me like that. I wasn’t a man worth loving, especially not by you.” 

“Kento…”

“But I’m here now. And I’m yours.” He looked at you with the same seriousness as when he gave you your instructions, “do this for me and I’m yours forever. Help me keep this world safe, keep you safe.” 

You felt another heavy hot tear spill onto your cheek, “I’ve loved you since the day I met you, Kento. Please, I’ll do anything, just don’t leave me again.” 

“Never again.”  He promised before pulling you in to kiss you. 

His kiss was worth every second you spent away from him. Every sleepless night wondering if your budding romance was gone completely or if you could ever know the warmth of his companionship again. He pulled you even closer to him, now seating you perfectly in his big, wide lap. His hand slid up your back, hot against your skin. His tongue slipped between your lips perfectly to explore the inside of your mouth, sliding against your own, tasting the smoke that lingered inside. You couldn’t help the moan that resounded from your throat, you were too overjoyed. You wanted to indulge in every taste, every sensation, every sound, every inch of this man. Your hands were all over his chest, his neck, his shoulders, his arms, feeling the change in the man you loved. He was the same, his heart, his mind, his bones were the man you always loved, but you relished in the feeling of new, taut muscle under your fingers.  

“I love you.” you confessed against his lips. 

“I love you.” He answered, pulling you in again for another deep, wet kiss.

He tangled his other hand in your hair, the other migrating from your face to grip your thigh draped across his lap. His grip on your leg was firm and sturdy, squeezing the muscle and flesh you had gained since your last encounter with him. 

“You’re a better kisser now.” You challenged, leaning your forehead against his.  

“You taught me well, I improved on your method.” He smiled up at you. 

It had been nearly a decade since the last, first, and only kiss you and Nanami had shared. A night of teenaged drunkenness in the dorm rooms and a fateful game of seven minutes in heaven leading to you and Nanami squeezed together in Gojo’s dorm closet. The darkness made Nanami bold enough to confide that he had never kissed anyone before, and you bold enough to jump at the chance to “teach him”, despite privately never kissing anyone yourself either. The timer had run out all too soon and Gojo pulled the curtain early, revealing a heated, albeit sloppy, makeout to your group of classmates. In your years schooling and working together you had never spoken about it, at least not so brazenly. Time and loss and reunion will bring anything to light. 

“I was lying. I hadn’t kissed anyone either. I just wanted to kiss you.” You simpered against his lips, feeling the hand on your leg move up closer to your ass. 

“You're kidding.” Nanami said flatly, kissing you again. 

Your cheeks heated, “You knew?” 

Nanami shrugged, smiling slyly, “Took a few other kisses before I pieced together that you had no idea what you were doing.”

You laughed out, feeling decade old embarrassment rise in you. 

“Hey,” He soothed, “Who do you think begged Haibara to suggest the game and pick us to go first.” 

You gawked, “You didn't.”

He nodded, “I did. Quite embarrassingly so. I don't think Gojo ever let a day go by that he didn't remind me of it.”

You were touched, elated, so devastated on behalf of the time you lost, but so grateful for the time you could have now. You pressed your lips together again, hands finding purchase in his hair, feeling the crop under your nails. He kissed you with a new fervor, remembering the growing romance he had abandoned, the way you had made him feel all those years ago. His hands moved up your back and found the clasp of your bra, with no words exchanged he undid the hooks and you moved your arms so he could slide the garment off of you. Once you were free you brought your hands to the button of his shirt, eyes closed and too entranced by the kiss to notice the spots of blood that stained the cream colored fabric. He pawed at the exposed skin of your back, down the dip of your spine, over your hips, and up once more to the back of your neck. He pulled back hard, separating your lips. 

“Let me see you.” He ordered, taking in your exposed chest. 

You whined at the loss of his lips, but relished in how closely he studied your body, your breasts, your stomach, your hardening nipples, everything he had longed to see before but was too guarded to ask of you. The hand didn't leave your neck, in fact it slithered around to the front, holding you in place on top of him. You had managed to undo his buttons, revealing his own chest, rippling and creamy in the amber light of the hotel room. You ground yourself down on his lap, desperate to feel his hardness underneath you. 

“No.” He tightened his grip around your throat, stilling you, “Be patient, I've waited years to have you like this, I won't be rushed.”

You nodded as best you could with your throat still in his grasp. 

“Be good.” He warns, bringing you back to his mouth, guided by your neck.

You wait for him to kiss you, wanting to demonstrate how good you can be for him. He leers at your obedience, before sliding his tongue across your lips. Not exactly a kiss, but you accept it so eagerly, the feeling of his spit wetting your lips, the anticipation whetting your desire. It's so possessive, so absurdly erotic it is nearly demeaning. But why should you care, it’s Nanami, your Nanami, you want to be possessed by him. Finally he kisses you again, your and his face both damp. His hand leaves your neck and slides down to grip one of your breasts, rolling your nipple between his finger and thumb, making you hiss.

“Sensitive.” He mumbles, pinching harder, pulling a whine from you. 

Heat is pooling in between your legs, you're certain he can feel the effect he is having on you, it would be dripping onto his thigh at this very moment if it weren't for the layers of fabric between your bodies. He grips your other breast, repeating the stimulation to your other nipple, once again relishing in the whines and whimpers you sing above him. You close your eyes and throw your head back, not seeing when he leans forward and latches his mouth to your unoccupied nipple, soothing the pain with soft, generous suckling. His other hand has curled itself around your hips and gripped unabashedly at your ass. Your hands returned to his hair, wanting to feel as much of him as possible. And feel him you did, his hardened length making itself unmistakable under you and Nanami rocked your hips forward, grinding you down on him. He let out choppy, moans into the flesh of your tit, his mouth full and muffled. You saw stars as the sensation of being ground down on his clothed length electrified your swollen clitoris. You had heard saucy gossip from classmates turned coworkers about Nanami “packing”, but you could feel their accuracy as he directed you to writhe against him.

“K-ken..ah!” You huffed out as the bulge pressed right against where you desired him the most. 

He filled his mouth with your other tit and pushed you further down on him, making you keen above him louder. He was so much stronger than you, you couldn't pry yourself off his lap if you had wanted to. Thankfully there was nothing in the world you wanted less. He carried on sucking, biting, circling your breast with his mouth, bringing you to writhing, whimpering putty in his hands. You felt as though you were melting above him. The heat between your bodies building, scrambling your brain into nothing but more..more….more. 

“Fine.” He growled, pulling away from your chest and picking you up to toss, truly toss, you onto the bed. 

The cheap mattress bounced under you as you struggled to sit up on your elbows, only to be met with a firm hand clapping down on your chest, pushing you onto your back once more. 

“Desperate slut can’t even wait for it.” Nanami glared down at you, fire behind his eyes you had never seen before. 

He shed his shirt completely, not shy to give you a show of the muscles and scars he had gained in your separation. Bruised fresh and barely healing splotched across his stomach and hips, what looked like amature, although clean and neat, stitching, keeping a cut on his back together. Your breath stayed heavy as you watched him undress, you didn’t dare move another inch. He removed his pants, groaning as his length that had been straining against the tailored fabric gained relief. Your mouth filling with hungry saliva as you watched him supine on the bed, how he selfishly palmed himself through the thin fabric of his boxers before finally turning his gaze back to you. Your heart caught in your chest at his stony gaze, the annoyed expression between his eyes, the way his jaw set itself as he appraised your position. 

“You said you’d be good. That you’d do anything to help me. And yet here you are on your back panting like a whore after ignoring the first instruction I gave you.” The bed sank as Nanami moved one knee onto the edge. 

You stayed silent and still as his hands undid the clasp of your pants, inching them down your legs at his own pace, noting how goosebumps appeared in the wake of his touch. He watched as you strained to stay still, only allowing your body to move as he moved it, only allowing yourself to be puppeteered out of your clothing by his hands. A sick pride filled his chest at the sight of your heaving chest, still shining wet from his mouth, your hair mussed by the bed sheets, eyes wide and watching him. Your panties were already sticking to your dripping pussy, the wetness seeping through the flimsy fabric and leaking onto your thighs. Nanami joined you on the bed completely, hovering over you, sliding his index finger up from your knee. He met your eyes again, a taunting tilt to his head. 

“Is this what you imagined?” Nanami’s breath ghosted over your lips. 

You weren’t sure how to respond, when you had first imagined what your first time with Nanami was going to be, you never imagined this set of circumstances. You imagined sharing firsts, learning the motions of expressing love physically, you imagined him making you feel wanted, just as you wanted him. Now he was a Wanted man, and you were jeopardizing everything by lying under him, by letting him touch you, by begging him to take you, to make you his. Your silence was answer enough for him, he traced your slit with his finger, it took every ounce of strength you had left to not shiver, to not whine and mewl and beg again. He noticed. 

“Good.” He once again leaned down to kiss you, his tongue quick to invade your mouth, to pull you back into his spell of thoughtless depravity. 

His finger slipped past the gusset of your panties, feeling the sopping origins of the liquid desire spilling onto the sheets. You couldn’t hide the shaky breath that escaped as he penetrated you. His fingers were long and knuckles, just the one seeming to fill more of you than a single digit ever should. He watched your eyebrows scrunch, your eyes flutter, and your mouth fall open. He can see the backs of your teeth, the big buds along the base of your tongue, he finds himself enveloped in the idea of prodding the back of your throat with the tip of his cock, with his fingers, with your fingers, he finds he has all kinds of strange fantasies these days. You clenching around his finger wakes him from his daze, and he's quick to supply you with another, feeling your spongy walls stretch around him, trying their hardest to accommodate his intrusion. 

“mmgph..”You whimpered, rolling your head to the side, not willing to look at him as he began pumping his fingers. 

Nanami looped his other arm around your head, bringing you up to kiss the column of your throat, feeling the muscles strain and flex in response to the pleasure he is so generous to give you. You tried to bury your face in his shoulder, but he held you down firmer. He added a third finger, curling them right against your g spot. You couldn't help but cry out. 

“Agh! Fuck…fuck.”

Nanami growled against your neck, keeping his pumping hand steady. The sloshing sound of your pussy drenching his hand and wrist fought to stay audible as your moans threatened to drown them out. You felt his teeth, first scratching, then biting into your neck. You weren’t going to last, you could feel the avalanche of pleasure bounding toward you, you were going to be lost, smothered, destroyed by the wave. Your body moved on its own, smacking at his chest before curling upward in an attempt to save yourself. The hand around your head pulled you down to the bed as he pumped harder. Fucking you gast on his fingers. 

“No. Take it.” He commanded, watching you struggle under his hold, fighting him, he dug his nails into your arm, “Take it.”

Your vision went white, blocking out the lamp light, the room itself, as you squeaked out in pleasure. Your abdomen shuddered, your legs kicked, you strained against him, panting and whining. He carried on through your orgasm, not letting up until he saw fat, hot tears spill from your eyes. He kept his fingers inside as you came down, watching as you reinhabited your body that for a moment belonged entirely to him. He waited for you to open your eyes, he had always been a patient man. When you finally looked up at him with your love drunk stare, he removed his fingers, privately relishing in the squelch.

“Open.” He ordered, and you obeyed. 

He filled your mouth with his fingers, the taste of your cum all encompassing. His mouth drops open as he watches you suck his fingers, he experiments with you; testing how far you’ll let him push, touching the gummy flesh at the back of your throat, mentally marking how little you gag. Good girl. 

He's so overcome with pride and love, or something close to it, that when he removes his fingers he is desperate himself to bring you into another deep kiss. He feels your body tremble against him, aftershocks racing through you, your hands grip at his body, begging for more, begging to be closer. Nanami can't help but groan as you touch his clothed cock, his tongue still touching yours, the taste of your orgasm and the sound of his pleasure shared between two open, waiting mouths. You trace his length through his boxers, his own hand comes over your own and guides you over the totality of him, tip to base, the warm balls underneath, the spot of wetness at the top where he has leaked despite himself. You look up at him, eagerly awaiting his instructions. He smiles down at you, almost sweetly. 

“Sweet girl.” He coos, seeing the joy bloom in your face, “You just want to be good, don't you?” 

You begin to nod but are cut off by a hard slap coming down on your cheek. No time to dwell on the sting before he grips your face, pursing your lips. The shock of the smack bounces up and down your spine before you realize the pulse throbbing between your legs once more. He squeezes his cock through your hand, letting you feel the same pulse in himself. 

“You’ll do anything for me, won't you?” Nanami’s keen eyes train on you once more, opening his mouth slightly inches above yours. 

You think he is going to kiss you again, but he squeezes your face more, your lips separating in a bizarre pout. He spits directly into your mouth. You’re quick to lap at his offering, savoring it briefly before swallowing it. You feel his cock jump against your hand, he groans at the wanton sight, he's beyond pleased, he is elated. Before you finish savoring the remnants of him in your mouth he has you on your back once again. He rids himself of his underwear out of your sight and positions himself between your legs. He lifts your hips up and holds you level with his pelvis, wrapping your legs around his hips. The shaft of his cock slides in between your lower lips, he coats himself in the melange of your previous orgasm’s release and the new wetness he has pulled from you. Deciding it isn't enough he spits again, this time on your twitching cunt. Nanami marvels at how beautiful he finds the sight of his spit on your body, you wet at his behest, at how beautiful you are under him, your eyes trained on him, waiting so patiently. With one perfect stroke he fills you totally, your hands grip helplessly at his forearms. You arch your back with a whine as you feel the girth of his cock split you open, he is quick to find a pace, his hungered hands taking their fill of your hips and thighs as he fucks himself further into you. His bruising, soldier’s grip nearing fractal pressure, you pull at his fingers, trying to ease his grip on you, offer your body some grace. But he grips tighter, thrusts deeper, the tip of his cock pressing against your cervix, his heavy balls smacking against your ass. Your cries fill the room, as does the plap plap plap-ing of his hips hitting yours with devastating precision. 

“Kento…oh fuck…i-its too much, too much!” You writhe, pulling at his titanium strong fingers at your hips. 

“Too much?” He mocks, his hips not missing a beat, “Too much?” 

You sigh in relief when one of his hands leaves your hip, the bruised spots settling. You jolt as that same hand comes down hard on your clit, making you scream, “Nana--Agh!” 

He repeats the assault twice more, letting your screams fill the room before clapping the now slick soaked hand over your mouth. He thrusts himself completely inside, leering over you cruelly as you mewl at being overfilled.  

“Don’t yell my fucking name. What if someone heard you?” 

He’s so deep it feels like he could push out through your stomach, you are barely able to mutter out a small, “‘m sorry.”

It sounds so pathetic you’re almost grateful it's barely audible behind his hand. He keeps his hand over your mouth as he starts thrusting once again, not able to withstand the temptation of your walls hugging him so tightly, you’re so warm, you’re so wet, and you’re all his. He can have you all to himself, the thought alone almost makes him cum. But when he looks down at your fucked out, sweat and spit dampended face, he holds strong. He wants to give you this, he wants to give both of you this. Remind himself that even a murderer like him can find moments of bliss. So perfect, so ready to help him, so eager to prove yourself to please. If things were different he could see this being his eternity, loving you, being loved by you, a life together. But it was too late for that now, he couldn’t go back. He could never get that future back. 

Nanami releases your mouth, his hands instead moving your legs up and over his shoulders, angling his hips deep and deeper, folding your body into a nasty mating press.Your mouth falls open, he’s reaching points even deeper than before, you can hardly stand it, your hands claw at his shoulders. When you are finally able to see after this transition, you open your eyes to find him looking directly at you, gazing in your eyes, fucking himself into you at the sight before him. His body rocks yours, you move as he instructs, leading you from within to match his thrusts. Finally his resolve starts to crack. 

“F-fuck..” He gasps out, his face scrunching, sweaty strands of blonde hair falling from his forehead. 

You can feel him twitching inside of you, it’s as though he is swelling inside of you as he nears his end. You reach up to his hair, tugging, urging him to kiss you. He complies, connecting your lips and rutting into you wildly. The hot, fevered kiss is scored by his moans, gracing your ears, better than your most indulgent fantasies could conjure. For the moments before his climax, there was nothing but the two of you. His body shielding you from the rest of the room, his arms held your legs, the smell of your combined sex filled your nose, the sound of his body on yours, the grunts into your mouth, his sweat on your body, the taste of his tongue against yours. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else existed. 

With a low howl Nanami spilled himself into you, driving his hips forward, pulling your hip up to meet his thrust. He thrusts once more, the pair of you grunting together. You can feel the twitch of rope after rope of hot cum filling you, painting you from the inside. He buries his head in your neck, not willing to let you out of your folded position. When he finally releases you it’s only for a second so he can move your legs from your ears. He pulls out briefly, moving onto his back, collecting his breath. You wiggle briefly, stretching sore, twisted muscles but don’t get too far before Nanami pulls you onto his chest. You press your lips to the junction of his neck and shoulder, his arms wrap around your back, his knuckles grazing your spine. 

The hum of the air conditioner, the buzzing of the bedside lamp, and the pattering of rain against the window fill the silence left behind by your moans. You could hear the drumming of his heart, the leveling back of its usual tempo. His hand stills on your back,

“There’s no one else in the world I can trust, you understand?” His voice is warm in his chest under your ear. 

You nod, “I know.” 

He tips your face up to look at him, “Stay with me tonight?” 

Your heart nearly bursts, “yes! Yes.”

He smiles and kisses you, holding your face, holding you to his chest. It wasn’t an hour or more before you had fallen asleep soundly on him, the weight of the day pulling you into sleep before you were ready. Before you fully succumbed to the sandman’s curse, you thought you heard the words I love you leave him. 

You didn’t feel the weight of the bed shift when he got up a few hours later. You didn’t hear him redress and gather his things. You didn’t hear him reach into your purse and pocket your SIM card. You didn’t hear the door click shut as he left before the sun was set in the sky. You woke up in the hotel bed alone, the indention on his pillow and the ache between your legs the only immediate evidence he had ever been there. Your throat tightened as you smelled the sheets next to you, the fabric just barely holding a trace of his scent. Immediately the phantom memories of his hands on your body, his assurances, his instructions flooded back to you. It wasn’t until you got up completely that you saw the finger shaped bruises on your hip and the note in his neat, familiar handwriting. 

I’ll be in touch. Forgive me. 

Your chest tightened, your eyes stung, but you swallowed down your emotion. You had a promise to keep.

NANAMI IM SORRY I KNOW YOURE NOT THIS MAN. I DONT KNOW WHY ANYONE WOULD SAY THAT ABOUT YOU. Well i hope you guys liked my freak shit! I also wrote about half of an epilogue to this last night that i think clears up some of the context and the tone. I'll post that in the next few days as well. Its mostly with Gojo. OKAY LOVE YOU GUYS THANK YOU FOR READING. --- Doodle <3

[ariicandy]

Take Us to The Stars Tonight

Summary — He loves recalling the memory of when he confessed his love to you, a special place, a special moment, a special memory he will never forget.

Notes — been a while since I have wrote! It’s been 2 and a half months.. Hopes it’s decent enough to be enjoyable, haven’t wrote for aventurine properly before! Wanted to add boothill originally but I needed to get this fic out so will do another version w/ boothill!!

Warning(s) — might be ooc aventurine as stated above, haven’t really done penacony story so he probably doesn’t go to these areas

Word count — 1,140 words

It was a strange thing that Aventurine has been having feelings whenever he encounters you. He feels the need to shower you with exquisite treasures even more if this weird tingly that he is feeling is trying to tell him. It is really strange. He’s been feeling this weird aching feeling within him he cannot describe or even seem to understand what it is for a while now. It started after a while of meeting you, first seeing you while he was roaming in golden hour. Where it only seemed to be a brief conversation, now turned to an everyday routine to see each other and talk about your day with each other. It’s weird how Aventurine was yearning for you more and more now without even realizing himself. He would send more messages to you, trying to engage with you more on whatever there is to talk about or even encouraging you to continue your talk of your day.

So to suddenly realize this tingly feeling that’s always making him feel weird is because he is in love with you. It makes him stop in his tracks on whatever he might be doing to suddenly realize that his feelings towards you are of love, not just the feeling of pampering you much more. But, how can he tell you that he loves you? Do you share the same mutual feelings? Is he overthinking this and this feeling is only just to pamper you more? It’s stressing him out and knowing there is only one way to find out..

To say Aventurine was nervous was an understatement. He was overthinking everything you guys had, fidgeting with his left hand a lot more while waiting for you to come and meet with him at Aideen Park. Maybe he should have picked a better location where it’s mainly just the two of you alone without being heard. It’s not like he can just change location last minute when you are on your way from the message you sent him a few minutes ago. Now he is fiddling with the tiny shopping bag he bought a bracelet with your name on it for you. Maybe he should have gotten something more that could make up this nervous situation, Aventurine only shakes him head and sighs ready to gamble with fate of his feelings for you.

“Ah I found you Aventurine!” The sound of your voice made aventurine turn to you with his usual smirk. “Ah, look who finally made it. I got this gift for you while I was on my way over here to the park.” Which wasn’t a completely lie, to say. Aventurine did look a various luxury jewelry stores that he will think deserve to feel your touch and be the symbol of him being yours, if you do accept it of course. A small gasp was lead out by you seeing him hold the small bag knowing it was worth a lot, he always bought you luxury goods when you try your best to tell him he doesn’t need to shower you with such expensive things. He always say its okay with whatever he buys you that you know is draining his wallet without him giving it a single thought, it worries you why he likes to pamper you with such lavish gift. “But, before I give you this gift, I must tell you something first.” Aventurine words made you curious and all ears to hear, and he could see that as he continued turning his head to the left of him to gaze the sky.

“To be quite honest with you, [Name], i actually never thought this day would come to talk you fully about me. I’ve been thinking that something weird happened to me while I wasn’t aware of in my chest.” Puzzled by Aventurine’s words you asked, “What do you mean?” You showing aventurine he has your full attention solely on him he continued, “I’m not sure when it started or what specifically made me have this weird feeling in my chest. But I do know an idea of who might have caused it. Would you like to take a guess?” Aventurine now fully turns to you seeing your shock expression on wanting you to guess, did he really need to do his little tricks at this moment? While you were hesitating to answer, aventurine was also scared of hearing what you might say. He just wants to see what you might assume the reason of his weird feeling from knowing his fellow co-workers at the IPC, the deals or gambles he makes with people. “Hmm, I’m not entirely sure I can guess why. It confuses me, who did you think might be the cause?” Hearing your response, aventurine forms a tiny smile. “You, [Name].” His response shocks you, how could you be the cause that aventurine has been having a weird feeling? It is a bad thing or good thing? It’s unknownly stressing you to find out. “Huh?! Me? What do you mean??” “You, [Name], have gave me his weird feeling in chest that has been guessing for what felt like ages. Not knowing why I always had this weird happy sense with you that I could not figure out what it actually was. That was until about 2 months ago during my break when I was messaging you, the reason why.” Aventurine then started to reach for the small shopping bag that he was carrying, bringing out a small box that looked delicate. He carefully lifted the lid up and revealed a lavish bracelet that had your name written in cursive. Shocked and surprised by the gift aventurine was going to give you this beautiful bracelet out of nowhere. Whatever money aventurine spent to buy and make this bracelet for you, oh you will repay him for this how could not? “The reason is, that i actually love you, [Name]. I never realized why i always wanted to get you more things for you to have no matter what you say or try to repay me. It can never replace you actually seeing me as someone, a person, and not just doing business with me. I own you my heart, for being the person i truly do love and enjoy being with.” He grabbed your hand and started to place the bracelet on your wrist, clipping it to secure it stays on your wrist. “Knowing you, you will try to repay me or makeup for this to be even. But I only have one thing to make it even to you.” You were still mesmerized by the bracelet and hearing him know what you would have said, you looked at him, “and what would that be?” A small genuine smile appeared on aventurine’s face. “All I ask of you is, will be my love?”

[777gojosgf]

LOSS OF MY LIFE

777GOJOSGF IS TYPING…

777gojosgf: reader x ex!saturo gojo

IN WHERE :: after you had left tokyo for a year to clear your mind, you decided to come back but only not alone.

a/n:: hurt/comfort, angst, sad, ooc!gojo, slight fluff?, reader getting over him and erm long chapter

also i’m on vacation but i’ll still post :p

sequel to: this

THE FINAL MEMORIES OF your past love burnt down in front of you, and the smell of fire wavered through the air and forced its way into your nose. when you didn't know how to express your emotions, you had a habit of writing them down. it was as like putting your feelings into words that everyone could understand wasn't enough to make them legitimate or to make them justified.

a year had passed since you bid farewell to tokyo, your teaching position at jujutsu high, and that white-haired man who might have broken your heart in a million different ways. however, you had never lost touch with shoko, who even travelled to see you in new york city, but not before informing you of his progress. he made a scene with your best friend and made it obvious that everything they had was for pleasure.

that made you run to your bathroom and throw up.

the man who said you were supposedly the love of his life.

the promises and plans you had for the future, the times you scribbled his name in your journal because he was the only thing on your mind, all of this was layered over with flames as you watched them dance. the hearts you drew around his name were taken away by force, even though drawing them made you feel like a high school girl. it could have been a metaphor for you to relive the events that happened to you and the suffering you carried with you, which would help to heal.

it was legendary.

the way the two of you were drawn to each other, how with one glance the two of you were able to create stories. Just by the glint in your eyes he could tell how you were feeling and what you needed to feel better in that exact moment. you hadn’t ever loved someone before as you loved him, in fact you couldn’t stop thinking about him for perhaps an entire month after arriving in new york city.

maybe you were foolish to think that going across the world would vanish the feelings you had for him.

however, you would never be able to forget what he did to you. the fire mirrored his vivid red eyes, which used to sparkle so brilliantly when you were around. it was illegal, to say the least, the sobbing that reverberated down the corridor of your former shared flat, cries of betrayal and utter agony that made you lose your equilibrium and tumble right down the wall and onto the floor. the video of him and your former best friend was playing on repeat, and tears had obscured the screen.

you didn’t want to see any of it, because you knew what happened before you even got proof of it.

sometimes you just feel it coming.

however, you were unable to resist examining every detail of the two-second film and trying to understand what she was saying to him. unfortunately, your focus was repeatedly drawn back to the smile on his face as he held her. and everything appeared to be exactly like the grin he had on his face when he slid the engagement ring down your ring finger.

had he liked her all this time?

no, that was not possible. he had written a handwritten note that he sent to your flat in new york, stating that they had only been seeing each other for a week or two. you didn't know how he got to know your address.

or maybe it was longer.

you couldn’t trust his words.

what use had it anyway? you were pissed off you had given him all of that youth for free, the damage had been done.

“y/n.”

you started to blink in response to the voice, moving your eyes to look at them. you looked like a deer caught in headlights. that guy—your upstairs neighbour and boyfriend—carried your boxes into your flat on the day you moved in without even asking. after maybe twenty minutes of kneeling by the fire place, lost in a trance, you swallowed, extinguished the fire in front of you, and got up.

there’s no doubting that he was all you could ever want. the way he held himself with a charming grin, his selfless generosity, and the civility that permeated everything he did enhanced his presence. you always remembered to give thanks to the universe for sending him your way, even if you had no idea where he was coming from.

regretfully, he discovered your broken state after you had come, crying the whole way on the airline and showing up with swollen eyes. the way you were unable to force yourself to unpack the boxes and furnish your brand-new flat in the heart of the city. you graciously declined his offer of assistance, thanked him for everything, and chose to take charge of the feelings that had been in charge of you ever since you found out.

there was no reason to beat yourself up over something that wasn’t even your own fault. you deserved new beginnings and definitely a happy ending.

however, you trembled when you first opened your moving box and discovered a friendship bracelet that you and your former best friend had crafted together years prior. and you were powerless to resist sinking back into the chasm that transported you down memory lane. the past is suffocating you, clouding your eyesight, and playing with your emotions because every time you two laughed hard, it was ingrained in your memory. your veins were penetrated by the anguish.

you hadn’t lost just satoru, but the girl you grew up with as well.

maybe she wasn’t worth all that if she decided to betray you in the way that she did.

that image, though, of you waiting to check in at the airport and then hearing your name called out from behind. and there she stood, trembling, her hoodie already smeared with tears. you had marched towards her, emotionless, stepping out of the line with a look of newly gained rage.

you didn’t know what to feel anymore.

it had all been a blur, with your voice growing more venomous with every passing moment because of your hatred for her; it was even repulsive to look at her.

“what the fuck are you doing here?” you asked but she only kept staring at you, not seeming to respond any time soon. that had only enlarged your fury and the argument quickly transformed into a larger phase.

“i don’t get why would ever do that to me, it was so fucking unnecessary—we were girls together. together, you and me. to think that you would go for someone i was with, to think it was satoru, do you fucking hate me?” you had said while pointing your finger at her and she didn’t know what to say, looking too much like how he did when you previously had the argument with him in the teacher’s lounge. you hated her even more for it.

“he broke it off with me, y/n. he said you were leaving so i—“ she started while shaking her head and reaching for your hand but you flinched away and narrowed your eyes at her. “so you thought it was a good idea to trail me down? so that i would forgive you for, oh i don’t know, fucking my fiancé?”

you felt the stares at the back of your head, knowing that the other travelers were possibly entertained by this whole little argument that all felt too greatly orchestrated.

“y/n, i love you. please— i wasn’t thinking okay? it has always been you and me, hasn’t it? you can’t leave.” her lips quivered and it came out shaky, breathless as you stared her down and you could see her falling apart inside. the realization of having messed up to a point that was unfixable had only hit her just now and it only gave you the tiniest bit of satisfaction. because she did, she had completely and utterly lost you.

you only stilled, “do you think it is fair, to be scared every day of a love affair? when i’m not even fucking sure if he wants to be with me because he always came home late, just to find out he was with you? do you know how fucking stupid i felt?”

she looked at the ground and anxiously played with her nails. it had only made you scoff that she wasn’t even able to handle your confrontation.

“you made me feel stupid. and now you’re asking me to stay? for who? because you clearly aren’t worthy of my time.” you added but she was suddenly quick to jump in.

“satoru and i aren’t even a thing anymore, god, i doubt he even fucking liked me, okay? i just wanted something like the two of you had.” your former best friend explained but it didn’t help and only made her dig her own grave deeper.

“we were engaged. so to have something like we did, you would fucking ruin it all for me? are you that fucking selfish?” as you spoke your mind fell once more into this hole where it wouldn’t stop connecting the dots and suddenly everything seemed very clear.

perhaps it was noticeable to everyone but you.

“don’t ever fucking talk to me again, i feel nauseous just looking at you. perhaps you and satoru can go ahead and both fuck yourselves, assuming you’re not foreign to it?” and with that you turned around and joined the line back, immediately handing in your luggage and with long strides left to continue your travel with your head forcibly held up high, tired of constantly being toyed with even as your heart ached.

fuck.

you wish you could forget how you almost had it all. the perfect husband, the ever so doting childhood best friend, being a teacher to the greatest students.

“y/n,” the voice before you called out once more and the heat rushed to your cheeks as you looked up and met his glance. “you keep zoning out love, are you alright?” your boyfriend asked you as he pulled you in by your waist and giving you an embrace, added with a kiss on top of your forehead. his hand caressing the back of your head and stroking your hair, and you hadn’t known what you did to find him.

“yes, thank you. i’m just feeling a bit weird today.” you confessed truthfully as you had always did with him because you had told him on your third date that you couldn’t rush into things because your head wasn’t with it yet and he promised you that he would go as slow as you wanted it.

“are you alright—“ he tried to ask once more but you let go of him and a mischievous smile was placed on your face which he immediately mirrored. “come on, i didn’t drag you all the way from new york to tokyo to mope around. in fact, i’m fantastic.” you drawled and excitedly got ready to head out of the hotel room the two of you booked in tokyo. after a year, you found yourself here once more.

but this time everything was different.

you hadn’t been a sorcerer anymore as there were almost to no curses roaming around the streets of new york city—surprisingly—and therefore you had decided to try and let go of that version of yourself as it only reminded you of the missions you joined with him.

it seemed as though the air had been pumped back into you, leaving you to make decisions about your newfound identity and opportunity at a fresh start in life. to choose to live and hold onto the positive aspects of yourself that you may still feel, or to exhaust all the air and let go.

obviously you had grasped at the opportunity.

you two waltzed around the streets of tokyo, your arm around his, showing him all of your favourite spots and undiscovered gems in the city you had previously said farewell to.

ironic, isn’t it?

much to your relief, he agreed when you took him to a street food vendor and urged that he try a dango. he seemed to like it as you held up the stick in your hand, and then he decided to plant a kiss on your lips as well. your brows furrowed in perplexity, yet a delirious smile that quickly faded into a frown was visible on your face.

you heart sank as your eyes locked on the towering figure that stood behind him—a figure you knew all too well. his gaze locked with yours, making it difficult to breathe, let alone swallow. the way his energy made you feel constricted all of a sudden, it made your lover turn around seeming confused about why the smile had dropped so fast he thought he had imagined it ever being there. however, the ringing in your ears suddenly grew so loud that you were unable to hear anything.

you hadn’t even realized that he greeted the two of you, but you knew him better to know it was a facade. his overly nice tone being laced with jealousy making the air turn into something so crisp you felt it slicing you. but, you held your head up high. something you had taught yourself the past year.

as you had to sworn to yourself that you knew better.

that you had grown.

good riddance.

“gojo,” you acknowledged icily but still gave him a smile that wouldn’t make the passing stranger wonder if the three of you were either arguing or having a nice civilized conversation. “i would say it’s good to see you but i’m not quite sure.” the polite smile tightened and you felt your boyfriends hand reach for your waist, giving you a squeeze of support.

that didn’t go unnoticed by satoru either.

in fact, he had a hard moment looking away from it, a hard swallow enforcing through his throat as he moved your gaze towards you and then to your boyfriend.

he pursed his lips, “haven’t seen you in a while, aren’t you going to introduce me to the mister?” satoru joked and tried to crack a smile on your boyfriends face but he remained cold and secure, which is what you liked most about him. nothing ever intimidated him, and he wasn’t ever afraid to show you off, to claim you his.

something the white haired male strongly lacked.

“this is my boyfriend, bf/n,” you started to introduce him and his eyebrows raised and he tried to once more meet your glaze. even though his blindfold hides the way emotions came to cling on his crystal blue eyes, his posture betrayed him.

he was clearly surprised.

and in fact, he missed you so much.

after you had left the apartment the night it happened, he came back secretly wishing he would still find you somewhere. that he would hear your voice calling out for him just like it did when he came home late from missions that tired him. he had checked every single room wishing and practically begging the universe that you would be found. but alas, you truly were gone. and you hadn’t even brought much stuff with you, almost eighty percent of your clothing still being present in his closet till this day.

he longed for you and it was no rumor that he had beat himself up every day for losing you.

you just wished that he realized it before you that you’re the loss of his life.

“ooookay, boyfriend huh? that’s good to hear, i mean, it’s good to know you’re doing well y/n.” satoru quipped and nodded alongside his sentence but it didn’t match his tone.

“is there any reason i shouldn’t be?” you immediately asked him.

“no i didn’t say that… but perhaps we could talk, ya know? today, or tomorrow i don’t know. but i feel like we should?” he asked you while crossing his arms and the hold your boyfriend had on you only tightened.

it was quite funny to realize that he had no idea that satoru was the greatest sorcerer of this time.

but perhaps that was all there was to him.

you opened your mouth to answer but it immediately shut as you heard a voice that definitely wasn’t yours. “i don’t think that is necessary, hm? my love and i have still so many things to do, but it was nice to meet you.” your boyfriend has answered in english, although being able to understand japanese to a certain extent and it only made you look at him with surprise. it initially came off polite and well mannered, but the emphasis on my love and the way he sneered at him while saying that made it aware that he clearly wasn’t a fan of satoru either.

so instead, you let go of the polite smile on your face and let your boyfriend drag you away from the scene.

as you continued down the market, you felt him kissing your cheek, but you were more and more conscious of the searing hole filled with remorse at the back of your mind as a result of satoru’s intense stare. but as time went on, the feeling grew progressively less, and when you turned to see if you could still see him, there was no sign of him, which felt like too much of a parallel to the two of you's connection.

“you didn’t have to answer for me, you know?”

your boyfriend turned his head to face you as his arm was now placed around your shoulders, keeping you close to him. “oh love i know, but i didn’t like him attempting to hurt you once more. you handled him perfectly on your own, but i couldn’t help myself. we are here to have a good time, no?”

and you simply only stopped in your tracks and stood on your tiptoes to plant the sweetest kiss. “thank you,” you murmured into his lips and he only grinned at that before kissing you once more.

however the look on satoru’s face when he stared at the hold your boyfriend had on your waist made you tremble, and it had almost pushed you back into the abyss that took you ages to climb out of.

should have let it stay buried.

©777gojosgf

a/n: i tried to go at it as realistic as possible because honestly if i lost the man i loved for four years and even being engaged, i think i would have lost my shit!!!!

but i don’t think the story is over just yet?

also writing about the american boyfriend made me think of so american by olivia rodrigo lol