#A small handful to bid the year goodbye

[sysig]

Finally made it through (Patreon)

[sahkuna]

NOT SO INVISIBLE STRING — GOJO SATORU

synopsis: the universe has a funny way of working. gojo always knew he was destined to be with you and so did others. it just took some time for you to figure that out as well.

content warning(s): FLUFF! eventual smut so 18+ mdni, fem! reader, pining gojo (sooo cute), mutual pining, friends to lovers, unproetected sex, gojo calling you baby multiple times while going innn.

word count: 6.8k zoo wee mama... pls read anyway or i'll d—

SPRING 2008

“So, you’re not gonna miss me? Not even a little?” 

An arm was suddenly thrown across your shoulders, leaving you to bear its weight. The press of his uniform stuck to your nape, making his presence all the more difficult to ignore.

Fellow students bustled and sidestepped their way around you two, some even falter in their steps to ogle briefly at the scene unfolding before them.

“Satoru, move!” Shoko— your saviour— jabs Gojo’s side, urging him to budge, but to no avail.

He’s still tethered to your side, twirling around his diploma in his unoccupied hand despite your best efforts to create space between you two. “You’re literally blocking people’s way toward the gates,” she says.

It’s graduation day and the last day of school for the spring semester, bringing the school year to yet another successful end. It also meant that today would be the last time your upperclassmen would walk on school grounds as students.

The sun was beginning to dip behind the many trees surrounding the school, and its marvellous glow cast warm hues of pink and orange that stretched across the sky. Its rays descend onto the school’s campus; setting for a brilliant, comforting atmosphere. 

Answering Gojo’s initial question about whether you’d miss him, you avert eye contact with your persistent senior. “I never said that,” your voice teeters between a grumble and a groan riddled with exasperation. 

Your eyes sweep the courtyard and you spot a few familiar faces in the crowd. Some are gathered along the steps leading up to the school taking photos to commemorate today. Others linger on campus chatting amongst themselves, and some whack each other with their diploma scrolls while others treat theirs delicately.

And not too far off from where Satoru holds you hostage stood a small crowd of his classmates—specifically, his female classmates— waiting for their chance to bid their goodbyes...

Or stumble out an unprepared confession thrown out in the heat of the moment before they may never see Gojo Satoru again.

Who knows. 

All you’re sure of is that they are most definitely throwing you shady death glares from your peripheral.

“Y’know, I’m gonna miss you,” Gojo says, his arm still looped around your shoulders. He has half a mind to drag you away from standing right front and centre in the entranceway and shuffles you off to the side. “All the years we’ve spent together—”

“Two years, by force.” 

“— and now we’re being split apart,” he finishes, paying no mind to your sardonic comment. The infliction in his voice prompts you to turn to look at him, only to wind up and see a slight pout tugging at his soft, pink lips. “How ever will we manage?”

You smother down the urge to heave a loud and heavy sigh at the clingy characteristics he’s displaying today and decide to play nice.

Gojo’s always been one to be playful, perhaps even a bit pushy at times but it was all in good nature. However, for some reason, his antics have reached a whole new level today. 

Emotions were running high among staff and students alike. Some are more potent and… persistent than others.

“You’ll be fine,” you assure, patting his arm half-heartedly, “and I will certainly be fine. Everything will be just fine.”

In the middle of your sentence from the corner of your eye, you spot another one of your seniors— Geto Suguru. You watch him step out from a conversation with two classmates of yours (Haibara and Nanami) and is now trekking his way over to where you and Gojo occupy the front steps.

“Geto-senpai!” 

Geto greets you warmly by placing a comforting hand on your head and gives you a reassuring pat once, then twice. The action leaves your hairstyle a little dishevelled, nonetheless, there’s a small smile tugging at your lips.

You’ve only interacted with Geto a sparse number of times outside of class or at the end of the school day. Whenever you both would cross paths you appreciated how he would regard your presence with temperance. It always left you feeling at ease. You’ll miss him. 

You’ll especially miss how he was so quick to offer you and Haibara snacks from the vending machines on campus.

Gojo emits a pathetic squawk at the special name drop.

Pale, white brows are pinched tightly together with faux betrayal. “How come he gets honorifics but I don’t?!” he complains once Geto’s within earshot. 

“I see that Satoru's already started…”

Though Geto was talking to no one in particular, Shoko chips in given that she bore witness to Gojo’s incessant pestering toward you ever since the home bell rang. “You missed the part where he blocked her from getting to the lockers for a good several minutes.” Unzipping her bag, she carelessly shoves her diploma into it. 

“But anyway, I’m gonna head out for a smoke. I’ll catch you guys later.” Before departing, Shoko stretches her hand towards you and gives your arm an affectionate squeeze. “Get home safe, ‘kay? Don’t let these guys keep you out too long.”

Which reminded you…

“Gojo, this has been fun and all…” Being rag-dolled around by your upperclassman across campus has been anything but fun. “But I really should start heading home now.”

You wanted to beat the rush hour of students and working-class alike trying to go home on a late Thursday afternoon. Looking for empty seats on the 4:25 PM train was brutal and you did not have the energy to stand the entire ride home.

Sensing your air of urgency, he eventually relents. Heaving a dramatic sigh, Gojo steps back a few and gives you some space.  

“Gimme a second, yeah?” He rummages around in his uniform pocket, searching for something. It only lasts about a second before he pulls out his flip phone.

“Suguru!” A curt upward nod of Gojo’s head is the only warning Geto gets before he tosses his cell toward his best friend to catch. You’re appalled that he catches it so easily with the little to no notice that was given. “Take a picture of us.”

…Huh?

Your brows drew close-knit together with confusion. “What are y—?!” Before you can even finish your question, you’re pulled tightly into Gojo’s side. 

His arms circle your neck once more, but this time, he uses the opportunity of your close proximity to tip his head to the side and knock it against your own. 

“Smile,” Gojo murmurs into your ear, his slender fingers pinching at your cheek prodding for you to plaster on a sugary smile for the picture.

You don’t have enough time to register, let alone recover from how his lips faintly brushed against your skin, Gojo’s already obnoxiously yelling “Cheese!” towards the awaiting camera.  

Snapping the photo Geto sports a lazy grin admiring his work. “Looks good,” he says before he tosses the phone back to its owner. 

You’re still reeling over the gentle graze of Gojo’s lips against your cheek, too dazed to digest what’s going on around you. What. In. The hell. Just happened??? 

Sputtering out a laugh, Gojo grins down at the image on his phone. “What’s with that face you’re making, huh?”

Eyebrows furrowing, you look up at Gojo curiously. Whatever was in that picture that made him smile that wide couldn’t have been good. “What do you mean?” You question, stepping closer to see what he was referring to on his screen.

Gojo tips his cell over and shows you the photo Geto took. There you both are in grain, Gojo looking the most lively out of you two. Despite the quality of the camera, you can see the proud and happy smile he wears compared to your frazzled and confused expression.

If anything, it looked like you were the one who was graduating and he so happened to snag a photo with you before your big send-off.

“I wasn’t ready…” you grumbled, looking away from his phone.

There’s a faint smile lingering on his face, blue eyes still trained on the screen. His voice's cadence grows warm and carries a small hint of affection.

“That face of yours is what I’m gonna miss the most.”

SUMMER 2009 

To no one’s surprise, you and Gojo kept in close contact, even after graduating high school. 

Well… More so Gojo kept in contact with you. Consistently. 

Whenever he can.

He was there during your spring graduation (shocker), much to the elation of the entire female population from your graduating class. Looking back, the number of times he stopped to pose with random students around the school when he came to greet you was absurd.

You’ll also never forget how loud he cheered when your name was called despite Principal Yaga telling the audience to hold their applause and hollers until after the ceremony.

Fast forward to the summer of ‘09 where Gojo consistently seeks your presence to go and hang out with him now that you have a freed-up schedule. Whether it's with him alone or with Geto and Shoko, you can always rely on him to shoot you a ‘u busy?’ text an hour before dragging you out for the rest of the day.

“Sooo,” you start slowly.

Your eyes skim across the playground, watching the few children who were there amble and climb on the jungle gym before you. The sun was beginning to descend below the skyline, and hues of warm orange press onto your features casting you and your surroundings in a soft glow. 

“You’re a… guardian now,” you state, eyeing how Gojo stretches his legs out beside you. 

You both sit at a park bench, the chorus of laughter and playful shrieks surround you as you watch Megumi— a kid Gojo now supposedly looks after— poke mindlessly at something buried beneath the playground’s sand.

“Yup!” he chirps, but then it’s swiftly followed by a hesitant, “Well, sorta kinda…”

There’s a mental warfare going on in his mind as he combs through the various explanations he can give you, searching for one that would be both concise and easy for you to digest.

“To put it simply, from here on out I’m going to be a constant in Megumi and Tsumiki’s life.”

You think of the step-sibling duo. They’re the sweetest pair of children you’ve had the delight of coming across, and now…

“They’re doomed,” you say with pity, your gaze still focused on the youngest Fushiguro. 

Gojo gasps in disbelief at your bold accusation with his hand flying to his chest, clearly having taken offence. “What’s that supposed to mean?!” he asks.

But before you could give him a smart alec answer, the cheerful exclamation of your name pulls your attention elsewhere. The soft thump of Tsumiki’s shoes approaching prompts you to smile brightly. With open arms, the girl practically throws herself at you and giggles.

You give her cheek an affectionate squeeze. Despite her being in the second grade, you couldn’t help but coddle her. “Why hello, Tsumiki!” 

It takes her a few moments to finally release you from the hug, backing up a bit she glances up at you. “Where were you? I missed you on Tuesday, the swings weren’t fun without you!” she says, pouting.

“I wasn’t feeling the best, so I had to turn down Gojo’s invite to meet you guys at the park that day.”

Upon hearing all the commotion, Megumi spots Tsumiki talking to you a few steps from the play area. It prompts the young boy to walk over and join you three at the bench. He nods his head over at his step-sister and says, “She thought you guys broke up.”

Huh?

You blink rapidly. “Broke— Broke up!?” You squawk, the inflection of your voice rising at the ‘up’ part.

Where could she have possibly gotten that idea from? You and Gojo weren’t even dating!

Gathering your composure you plaster on a sweet smile, ready to explain to the young pair that you and Gojo weren’t together like that before a heavy arm comes hunkering down onto your shoulders. “Even if she tried, she can’t get rid of me that easily,” Gojo comments.

Christ.

Tsumiki claps her hands together in glee at this revelation. “Yay! ‘Cause I like you!” she confesses. “I thought I’d have to deal with Gojo and his friend with the big ears pushing me on the swings forever.” And with that, the girl’s already off running to the big yellow slide, pulling Megumi along in her wake.

The sweet smile you wear grows more and more strained the longer you two sit there on that damned bench with Gojo’s arm still lodged around you like it belonged there. 

Long delicate fingers drum themselves along your bare shoulder which leaves a tingling sensation that lingers against your skin.

“Gojo Satoru…” you hiss between clenched teeth.

Your hand creeps up to give his knee a mean pinch, but as always, Gojo reads your movements like a damn book and catches your hand in his before that could happen. “Hm?”

“What do you mean ‘Hm’?” You gesture in the general direction of where the kids are playing. You feel your brows start to pinch together. “Why would you tell them that?!”

“It’s true though, no?” Snowy white wisps of hair fall in front of his eyes shaded by his signature round sunglasses. “We haven’t ‘broken up’ and we’re still together. Just not in their understanding of it.”

“You—! That’s not—” You flounder for words, trying to spit out why he can’t go around inadvertently feeding into the imagination of whatever relationship Tsumiki and Megumi thought you two had. But you come up blank.

“You’re irritating, you know that?” you say, as you try (and fail) at removing his arm which still rests comfortably around your shoulders, pressing you tight against him. “You’ll wind up confusing them.”

An easy smile slips onto his lips as he observes Tsumiki and Megumi scramble up the slides. “Relax,” he responds. “They’re smart kids.”

And until it was time for the Fushiguros to go home, there you two sat underneath the thinning ochre sky. Stuck under the guise of an unspoken relationship.

WINTER 2011

Being the “middleman” between two people who are so obviously into each other but cannot figure out how to hang around each other normally was all too common for Shoko.

It’s a shame that Geto wasn’t available to come down and hang out with the three of you tonight, he would’ve revelled in getting a kick out of this expected yet unexpected… turn of events.

Brought in as a buffer between you two, with an unlit cigarette dangling loosely from her lips Shoko leaned back in her chair and watched the buzzing scene before her unfold with bemused eyes. 

Underneath the comforting golden glow of the restaurant’s hanging table light, Gojo picks at the cookie dough chunks that litter your plate to which you turn a blind eye. Now, Shoko could’ve easily brushed this occurrence off, seeing that friends often eat from each other's share of food all the time.

But something was... different.

With Gojo seated to your left inside the booth, he neatly cuts up a piece of his soft, creamy cheesecake and leverages the small serving on his spoon. “Here, try some of mine,” he says.

Harmless, right? 

So, you reach for your own spoon to retrieve the sample of dessert that he was offering you. But without any hesitation, Gojo lifts his cutlery to your lips and prods the food toward your mouth.

There was no way that he intended on doing this right here, right now. In front of Shoko especially.

“Say, ‘Ahhh’!”

Concern creases your brow when Gojo continues to press the spoon against your lips, idly humming as he waits for you to open your mouth so he can spoon feed you as if he were your mother. A delicate, yet sure hand cupping your chin and everything.

He was being serious.

From your peripheral, you catch the slow spread of a Cheshire-like grin creeping onto Shoko’s face.

You press your fingers onto Gojo’s wrist and frown. Trying to retreat from his hand, a peal of nervous laughter bubbles out from you at his display of reckless affection at the table. “Give me a br—”

Gojo uses the opportunity of your uncertain state to slip his sharing of the  Japanese cheesecake into your mouth in the middle of your sentence. Your eyes widen a small fraction at its creamy taste, prompting him to comment, “It’s good, right?”

The cigarette threatens to slip from Shoko’s mouth, as her lips slightly gape at what just happened before they curve into a soft smile. Her brown eyes are warm with… something. It’s as if she knew something that you didn’t.  

“Ehhh…” Is all she says before you’re already jumping down her throat to clear up any misunderstandings.

“It’s nothing!” you supply in a rushed manner. Your main objective was to simply imply that this was nothing for her to lose her head over. Hell, even the friendliest of friends feed each other all the time! Right?

But at your remark, Gojo’s mouth downturns into a cute little pout. “What do you mean, ‘nothing’?” From the corner of your eye you glance at how he’s fixed another spoonful of the dessert, and it's hovering in your direction.

“Sato—” Fuck.

You quickly correct yourself on your mistake, and school your voice to have a bit more edge to it. Despite that, you don’t overlook how hard Gojo’s beaming at you. “Gojo, not now.”

“Ehhh?” Shoko exclaims once again, but this time the cadence of her voice has changed. It’s gained an amused note to its tune. “You call him Satoru now? Since when?”

“I’ve been begging her to use it for the longest time ever,” Gojo answers on your behalf, and he ignores your mutter for him to please stop talking in favour of jabbing an accusatory finger at you. “You know how painful it was to see you be all chummy and on a first-name basis with everyone but me?”

Lord. You’ve forgotten how dramatic he could be. 

There’s a teasing glint in Shoko’s eye that you quite don’t like, and her lips purse heavy with consideration at his comment. “You make him beg?”

Groaning, you cross your arms against the table and bury your face. You can’t with them. Your two former upperclassmen were the bane of your existence right about now. 

“I’ll kill you both,” you mutter, your speech muffled by the fabric of your sweater.

A FEW YEARS LATER

A calming blue nightly glow ripples through your curtains, casting your room in nothing but moonlight. Amidst the serene silence, you idly stare at your screen and read the text Satoru sent you right as the clock struck midnight.

Satoru: Are you home?

What an ominous question. Your eyes skim over his message again. And then again. 

…And again.

Thumbing through your phone, you glance at the time displayed on the top of your screen. It’s been five minutes since you’ve opened his text. You should probably send something back soon before he quintuple texts you.

As you’re about to respond right when Satoru immediately shoots you another.

Satoru: I KNOW you see this!!! ( `ε´ )

Satoru: Hurry hurry hurry

You: yes... why?

Now it’s his turn to take a while to respond. First, it takes a couple of minutes for you to receive that pinging chime; indicating that he’s texted you back— which isn’t too bad because you like to consider yourself a pretty patient person. 

But then five minutes slowly turn into ten, and that ten becomes a whopping fifteen until finally he answers.

Satoru: Open your door.

What the fuck.

Satoru: Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepl

So that’s why he took so long to reply. The man was coming all the way down from his place to come and visit you!

You: you're actually insane.

You: hold on!

Rising from your seated position on your bed, you stalk over to your bedroom door and are about to exit when you spot yourself in a nearby mirror.

“Oh!” you exclaim to no one in particular. You can’t open the door for him looking like… this.

Wait, why do you care about what Satoru thinks of your clothes?!

 He’s seen you wearing much worse. Like that one instance in first-year, when you had to borrow Geto’s spare parachute pants because Haibara accidentally spilt his soda all over your lap during an informal outing with everyone.

Yeesh.

Shaking your head, you slip out of your room and pad down your apartment hallway wearing your discoloured oversized band tee and shorts. Upon reaching your door, your hand hesitates on the doorknob. 

It stays like that for a few seconds until the doorknob is rattled in a fashion that’s all too persistent, annoying, and all from—

“Satoru!” you hiss, swinging the door open. You’re ready to chew him out on how much of a nuisance he may be for your sleeping neighbours a few doors down. But your looming reprimand falls short on your tongue once your eyes take in the man facing you.

“Happy birthday!” 

In the darkness, the soft glow of sparklers illuminates your features and highlights the exquisite details of a beautifully decorated cake held in Satoru’s hands.

Wordlessly, your hand aimlessly searches for the light switch to brighten up your hallway so that you may get a better look at what’s on the cake. 

Something trembles in your chest and it hurts a little to breathe. But not in the way that you detest.

He’s cute.

Gojo Satoru is so heartbreakingly cute.

On the cake, you see that damn grainy photo you two took on his graduation day back in ‘08. The photo you love to hate.

Wetness springs to your eyes from the entire gesture, from the fact that he ensured he was the first one through text and physically to wish you a happy birthday, and from the fact that he’s here right now.

“Hey…” There’s concern creasing Satoru’s expression as he pokes his head down a little to get a better read on you. “Are you crying?”

You sniff back your tears and grunt out a watery, “No… Shut up and come in already.”

Ushering him inside, Satoru hands you your cake, toes off his shoes and heads straight to your living room. Good to see that he’s already making himself at home.

Plopping himself down onto your couch you hesitantly follow behind him, suddenly feeling like a stranger in your own home. “Come, come!” He waves a welcoming hand at you and pats the seat beside him, insinuating that you should sit.

With immediate interest, you do as he says and take a seat beside him after you position your cake in the middle of your coffee table. The couch feels so small now, with him spread out like that.

Pulling out something from his pocket with one hand and tugging off the party hat from his head with the other— had he been wearing that the whole time?— Satoru clears his throat. “Before you cry again, I gotta make sure you’re able to see your present first.”

He takes your head in his hands, and you realize his fingertips are a little cold as they press on your warm cheeks. Stretching the string down from the party hat a bit, he places it under your chin and snaps the cardboard cone into place on your head.

Breathing a noise of satisfaction seemingly content with how you look, a cheeky grin dances across Satoru’s face. “Perfect. You can now go ahead and open your gift,” he says, handing you a small black velvet box with the company logo HW scrawled across it.

“Wait, what,” you deadpan.

This can’t be what you think it is.

“It’s not a ring!” Satoru blurts. But composes himself seconds later with a quip of, “Unless you want it to be?”

Har. Har. Very funny.

You disregard what he’s said and peel open the box with caring hands.

Inside was the most extravagant necklace you’ve ever laid eyes on. A diamond pendant laid bare inside the box in the shape of a forget-me-not with your birthstone at the flower's centre. 

That could’ve easily cost him a little over one million yen if you think about it deeply.

“Satoru!” you squeal.

Without thinking, you throw your arms around his neck and squeeze your longtime friend into your loving embrace. Satoru’s gift to you almost topples and sinks into the crevice of your couch had it not been for his quick hand to catch the necklace.

Your heart’s racing, and initially, his body goes rigid until he gradually relaxes under your hold. “You’re crazy, ’s too expensive!” you sparingly chastise him. 

Satoru swallows hard and brings a careful arm up to reciprocate the hug. You feel the warm press of his arm against the thin material of your shirt. 

“Nothing’s too expensive if you’re involved,” you hear him murmur into your ear. “So, don’t worry ‘bout it.”

You give him one last bone-crushing squeeze, hoping that your rare show of physical touch does not go unnoticed and exemplifies how grateful you are. Pulling away from him you look him dead in the eyes. “Thank you, seriously.”

Shrugging you off like it was no big deal as if he didn’t blow double, maybe even triple the money the average Japanese businessman earns on a singular paycheque toward your necklace, Satoru casts you a gentle smile and changes the subject. 

There would be no need to dwell on it any longer with what’s to come.

“Now…” He gives your lower back a soft pat. Once, and twice. “A birthday kiss from the birthday girl.” Satoru puckers out his lips and shuts his eyes real tight, making a huge show out of it.

For extra effect, he even hums a prolonged Mmm-ing sound to emphasize him waiting for you to initiate it.

It’s a joke; you know he’s joking. He has a ridiculously long history of being overly affectionate with his teasings and whatnot. 

But this time, you really do lean in and take said kiss from him.

There’s something incredibly adorable about this kiss that has your heart surging in your chest. Partly because it’s the first time that you’re kissing each other, but mostly because of how frigid and careful it is. It made you feel as if you were in high school all over again, trying a plethora of new things for kicks and giggles.

The tension was almost palpable, thick enough to suffocate the air he breathed. Even when you pulled away creating space between you both, Satoru still felt a lingering lump in his throat.

Cracking your eyes open, you see that Satoru’s own are blown wide. Piercing cerulean eyes stare unblinking at you. Normally, you would’ve found that to be off putting as hell, had it not been for the slow rise of a blooming pink crawling up his neck.

“Sorry,” you offer weakly. Sensing that you may have gone too far, you make an effort to scoot off his lap. But a determined arm holds you in place.

“Again.” He swallows thickly, and your eyes follow that mesmerizing movement in his throat. “I… I didn’t do it right. Please.”

And who are you to make him beg? So, you do as he says.

Leaning in, your lips press against Satoru’s once more. And this time, he has the sense to close his eyes and bask in it, not daring to let his nerves get the best of him (though he’d never admit it). 

Slotting yourself to be more flushed against him, the tips of your noses brush and you feel Satoru’s hand smooth down your spine. The pads of his fingertips press onto your exposed skin peeking out from underneath the hem of your shirt bunched around your hips.

God, you wanted him bad.

It’s abrupt, the way you push yourself off him and force yourself to stand on your feet, breaking the kiss. The rise and fall of your chest is a bit staggered and Satoru’s is too. He’s all red-faced and his snow-white hair is a bit dishevelled, considering how many times you’ve combed your fingers through it.

“Did I do something wrong?”

Cute. 

That alone made you want to jump his bones even more.

You shake your head and get one good look at him before you leave him to head down your hallway. He looked perpetually enraptured by you, eyes hyper-focused on your every movement.  “Come to my bedroom.”

Satoru’s stunned, the implications of your remark not lost on him.

And like a keen lost puppy, of course he follows. He joins you in your bedroom seconds after you and stands in the doorway, just kind of hovering there. Not sure of what to do.

Wait. Did he come here too fast? Did that make him look overly desperate? A million and one questions rush through Satoru’s mind as his neck grows red, stained with embarrassment, want… arousal. 

Seeing how he seems to be short-wiring at your doorway, you beckon him to join you on the bed with your hand. Once he does, he sits extremely close next to you. His clothed thigh brushes against your bare one, which sends a jolt of electricity through you.

Your fingers find his nape once again and they stroke up on his fresh undercut, prompting him to shiver a bit. “Why’re you so shy all of a sudden?” you question, your voice going gentle with a provoking edge to it.

Gaining some of his personality back, Satoru pinches your cheek. “‘Cause I didn’t think you’d want to kiss me!” But his mean hand then turns soft and slides along your jaw, his thumb rubbing smooth circles into the skin just below your ear. 

“Well, I’m here,” you say, scooting impossibly closer to the man beside you, “and wanting.”

Message received.

Hauling you onto his lap, Satoru cradles your face in both hands and kisses you deeply. It’s full of emotion, expressing all the things he’s been wanting to say for the longest time. A trembled exhale escapes you, and it’s through that that Satoru uses the opportunity to slide his tongue alongside yours. 

The kiss is frenzied, but so filled with love.

“So you like me?” he asks, his breathing laboured.

“Yes,” you bite, pushing him away from you and onto the mattress. “As if swapping spit with you wasn’t enough.” You guess you’ll have to show him how much you undoubtedly like him, love him even, through other means. 

He huffs a breath of laughter and drops his back onto your bed. Underneath you, you see Satoru’s eyes sparkle as he watches you have your way with him. 

But something’s up.

His eyes climb up a little higher and this time, he barks out a real laugh.

You still have that piece of fuck sitting on your head. You probably look stupid as hell right now.

Discerning that you’re about to raise your hand to your head, Satoru holds your wrist in his palm. There’s something bright that gleams behind those alluring pools of blue, warm and tender. He bites back a smile. “The birthday hat stays on during sex.”

You scrunch your nose at him. “You’re so dumb,” you growl with artificial frustration and tear off the cone-shaped hat from your head, tossing it into the depths of your room. He whines at its loss, but you’re quick to placate him with a slow roll of your hips into his lap.

Satoru’s jaw clenches and his hands fly to your waist, gripping you tightly as you continue to grind yourself down onto his erection. Your ministrations pull a wanton whimper from his lips, one that has you grinding with more purpose— the purpose of hearing that sound again.

“Do you like that?” you ask.

He nods, not trusting himself to speak, else he’ll let out a pathetic string of moans.

“I know, me too.” Satoru’s dick lurches in the confines of his pants as he watches you dry-hump him into the mattress slowly, your eyes shining with lust. Fuck, he could get hard just off your expression alone. “It feels reeeally nice being up on you like this,” you continue.

You have a fucking dirty mouth. One that Satoru’s growing more and more addicted to the more you speak.

There’s an incessant throbbing between your legs that you can’t quite alleviate. While rolling your hips into Satoru’s lap— with his occasional thrust to match your movements— felt good, it can only do so much. You wanted and needed more.

And so did Satoru, because he’s already pulling at the waistband of his pants. His thumb loops two layers and tugs both his pants and boxers down, revealing his toned V-line. 

Fuck.

You fall victim to Satoru’s enamoured gaze from below, which makes you squirm hot with arousal. “Take it off,” he commands.

He wants you to strip him of his clothes. 

Caught taking a startled breath, you ignore the wicked, handsome smile that slinks onto his face as you slip off his lap so you may curl your fingers around his waistband and pull. Your pussy clenches when his erect dick springs into view, and the heat pumping through your veins runs a little hotter.

You shiver at how pretty and filling his dick looks. After a few seconds of openly ogling at his lap, Satoru clears his throat which successfully gets you to drag your eyes back up to his face.

“While that was nice,” he starts, leveraging himself up onto his elbows and grins at your cute error, “I meant you, baby. Take it off.”

“Oh.” 

Seriously? Just ‘Oh’?

Mentally facepalming, you shimmy your shorts down your legs along with your panties. They pool down at your ankles and you step out of them to stand between his legs.

Fully sitting up, Satoru pats his lap; encouraging you to sit on him again. “C’mere.”

You crawl onto his lap, but you don’t sit down fully. Hovering a few inches away from his cock, your knees press on each side of his thighs, trapping him in. 

There’s no way in hell you were gonna sit down right now, knowing that if you do, you’d be pressing your bare pussy onto his naked thigh and he’d feel everything. Exposing how wet you are.

Humming, Satoru lifts the hem of your oversized top to your breasts and sighs. “Pretty,” he murmurs before he leans forward and captures your nipple into his mouth.

You gasp harshly at the titillating feeling. Your hands balance on his shoulders for support, as he rolls your nipple on his tongue.

“Sa— Ah!” You cry out. The hand between your legs startles you and has you whimpering in the open air.

“You’re wet,” he comments, slipping a finger against your slick pussy.

“Shut up about it…”

But he doesn’t. Another finger joins the first and delves down between your lips, gradually easing them inside you. They push against your walls, curling in a way that has you gasping into his neck. “You got wet from grinding alone, huh?” 

A breath stutters out of your mouth and you rock yourself against his hand. You can’t take this anymore. You want more. “Do you have a condom?” you ask.

“I—” he groans when your hand slides between you two, your fingers curl around his dick and stroke his tip along your leaking slit. “I didn’t bring one, because I didn’t think we’d—”

Oh.

Biting your bottom lip, you sling a heavy arm across Satoru’s shoulders. You meet his hungry gaze with one of your own and inch closer toward his dick that rests against his stomach. What you’re about to do could be risky, but at this given moment you couldn’t find it in you to be overly stressed about it.

“No worries,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper, “I trust you enough to pull out in time.” And like that, you push down on him and ease Satoru’s cock into your aching cunt, making him bottom out inside you completely.

You’re so wet and slippery that it took little to no effort for him to slide inside. The noise of your slick sticking to where you two meet at the hips has you two moaning softly in unison.

The harsh mutter of your name echoes off your bedroom walls and goes straight to your cunt. “So tight,” he grits out behind clenched, white teeth.

Each time you slide up and down on his cock, Satoru grows more unrestrained with his vocal appreciation of how well you take him. Desperate little moans escape him each time your sweet cunt squeezes him of all he’s worth.

You were no better. Choppy, broken whimpers can be heard from you, loving how he stretches your walks with your length. He fits perfectly inside you like your cunt was destined for this moment, for him alone. 

“Let me fuck you,” Satoru blurts out. He was losing it, and he could feel him tipping closer and closer to the edge of release.

“You are— Ugn!” you say weakly when his hands grab your ass and he stands, lifting you with him as if it were nothing. Kicking off his bottoms, Satoru props you on your back against your mattress.

 Crawling between your legs, he positions the crown of his cock to press against your opening. “No,” he drawls, with one hand on the base of his shaft and the other propped beside your head. “Let me fuck you.”

He pushes in and you swear you see stars. 

Satoru pistons himself faster and faster inside of you, rocking your bodies against the mattress which makes your wooden headboard tap noisily against your drywall.

You fear your neighbours may have some… less than pleasant words to share with you about the noise tomorrow morning. 

“Ah! Fuuucking— shit!” You wail. Euphoric tears start prickling at the corner of your eyes. “Don’t stop, please!”

The pleasure melts through you when Satoru presses down harder into you, his hand finding the back of your right knee and hikes your leg around his waist so that he can fill you at a new angle.

“Baby,” he murmurs into your neck. He says it like you’ve been his for years. “Say my name.”

“S—Satoru!”

Laughing a little, probably too fucked out of his mind, Satoru removes his face from your neck and presses a hot, searing kiss onto your lips.

You yelp when he drives his cock more harshly into you, growing more desperate with the urgency to come inside you.

Riding his high, Satoru says the first thing that comes to mind, which is a long drawn-out, “Haaa…”

What Satoru meant to accomplish was to wish you another ‘Happy Birthday’, but of course, it all gets garbled up in his throat due to his approaching orgasm and comes out sounding fucking obscene.

That’s what gets you.

You come hard, your back bowing off the bed. Satoru, remembering your initial statement about how you trust him to pull out, does exactly that. Albeit, he did it at the very last second, but you avoided a pregnancy scare. So you can’t be mad.

Thick ropes of his cum splash across your bare belly and some get on your top. You’re hyperaware of how it trickles down your abdomen, some dipping into your belly button.

Wow.

Breathing hard and heavy, both coated in sweat among… other sensual fluids, Satoru rolls onto his back.

“Stuck with me for life, huh?” he asks, delicate fingers intertwined with yours. 

You hum. “Seems so…” you agree quietly. 

Now that you think about it, there hasn’t ever been a moment where Gojo Satoru hadn’t been present in your life, ever since meeting him during your high school days.

You two lay like that for some time, soaking in each other’s company until the early traces of morning light ripple through your curtains.

You’re about ready to shut your eyes until your thoughts are accosted by something you offhandedly forgot. 

“Satoru?” you begin, tone nice and sweet.

“Hm?”

You sit up slowly so you can peer down at his blissed-out face. “By chance, was the cake you got for me made out of ice cream?”

You know how deep his love for sweets goes. You just pray and hope to whatever higher power that he chose the safe route and chose a normal ca—

“…Yeah, why?”

Jumping out of bed, you rush to the living room where the cake is probably spilling its guts out all over your expensive, mahogany coffee table. “You IDIOT!” 

A string of curses follows you out into the hallway, as Satoru sits on your bed confused.

“What’d I do?!”

Whether you liked it or not, you were stuck with this bumbling idiot if he had any say in the matter, an invisible string keeping you two bound.

And maybe it wasn’t that bad.

Even if it’s at the cost of your ¥20,000 table.

if you read to the end we're making out.

© do not copy/plagiarize/translate/use ai on my work.

[awearywritersworld]

megumi's teacher — gojo satoru x reader

tags/warnings: fluff. fem!reader. gojo beefing with an eight year old. 700 words.

ever since megumi started the second grade, it's been (l/n)-sensei this. (l/n)-sensei that.

gojo picks up megumi's favorite ice cream, only to be scolded by the young boy. "(l/n)-sensei's favorite flavor is strawberry, so that's my favorite now!"

gojo tries to help him with his math homework, and it's "(l/n)-sensei did it this way. that means you should too!"

gojo reaches down to tie megumi's shoes for him, before his hand is promptly smacked away. "(l/n)-sensei said big boys tie their own shoes!"

honestly, gojo is starting to feel a little jealous. megumi's known you for what? two months?

he's been raising megumi for the past few years, but does that earn him an ounce of the adoration the young boy seems to have for you?

apparently not, though he perseveres nonetheless.

he and megumi are spending the afternoon out in the city and they stop at a small bakery for lunch.

while megumi is distracted looking at all the sweets behind the glass counter, the bell on the door draws gojo's attention.

his eyes fall upon a pretty young woman. actually, you might just be the prettiest woman he's ever seen.

and of course, a smirk forms on his lips when he catches you looking his way. he's puffing out his chest, running a hand through his hair.

he's always had a certain effect on the ladies, and he's never been more happy about that until this very moment—

"megumi?" you call from a few feet away. the wide smile adorning your face makes you look even more radiant.

while gojo visibly deflates, megumi's head whips around at the speed of light. "(l/n)-sensei!"

oh.

gojo very quickly comes to understand why the boy is so enamored by you.

megumi launches himself at you, while you crouch to meet him with open arms.

"i'm so happy to see you!" he practically sings, clinging to your neck.

you chuckle at his enthusiasm. "i'm happy to see you too, 'gumi."

gojo clears his throat, hoping that megumi will take the chance to introduce you two, but he is completely ignored.

"what are you going to get? i'll buy it for you," he states proudly, despite having zero money of his own.

your gaze shifts to gojo for the first time, and having your attention even just for a brief moment takes his breath away.

"that's very sweet megumi, but that's alright." you ruffle his hair when he pouts at your words, standing back up. "who's this?"

"oh that's just gojo. don't worry about him," he states with a wave of his hand.

the white haired man gawks at him in response. the nerve on that kid! he silently decides megumi will be losing dessert privileges for a week. no, two.

you stifle a giggle before offering your hand to him and introducing yourself as megumi's teacher.

he repeats your name, taking satisfaction in the way it sounds rolling off his tongue.

"that's a pretty name," he compliments, trying to recover from megumi's dismissal. "heard a lot about you. in fact, the kid never shuts up about you."

this earns him a glare from megumi, but gojo is too preoccupied with the shy look that crosses your features to notice.

gojo insists on paying for your order, a show of appreciation for taking such good care of megumi in class. you chat with the pair of them for a little while longer before eventually excusing yourself.

"thank you again, gojo-san. i'll see you on monday, megumi!"

just as you're turning on your heel, gojo calls your name and you look back at him expectantly.

"when, uh," he struggles, scratching the back of his neck. "when do i get to see you?"

nice.

"oh! well, parent-teacher conferences are only a few weeks away! i'll look forward to seeing you then," you answer sweetly, misunderstanding the meaning behind his words.

you bid them goodbye once more and they both watch your figure disappear down the street.

megumi turns to look at gojo smugly. "weeks? that sounds like a really long time—"

"shut it, kid."

[fyodoro]

*ೃ༄ DOWN FOR THE COUNT!

ft. Sakura Haruka, Suo Hayato, Umemiya Hajime, Hiragi Toma, and Kaji Ren

… moments in which they realized they’re utterly whipped for you (2.6k wc)

Cw) gn!reader, uhh umemiya’s bit is corny but he’s lowkey a corny guy, tbh i got stumped with suo’s part sorry if that’s evident, profanity in kaji’s part, spar my head i haven’t written in a minute

SAKURA

“It’s getting late… I think I should get going before it’s dark.”

You had spent the day off with a few of the Furin first years, which included Nirei, Suo, and your boyfriend, Sakura. You didn’t realize how much fun you were having until you checked the time, almost reading past your curfew. 

Sakura frowned, and Suo was quick to notice. He shamelessly pushed him closer towards you with his signature smile, making Nirei tilt his head a bit.

“Now now, no need to get so sorrow. You’ll see each other again soon!” 

You quirked a brow at the one-eyed boy’s antics, wondering what he was up to this time. From the corner of your eye, you could see Sakura’s face growing redder and redder, something you’ve grown used to overtime. 

“Yeah, I’m seeing him tomorrow or the day after,” you informed, a skeptical tone lacing your voice. “What are you getting at this time, Suo?” 

He merely stood still and smiled as uttered the sentence that was bound to break Sakura.

“Don’t lovers bid each other farewell with a goodbye kiss?” 

Ah, so that’s what that was.

Steam emitted from Sakura’s ears. On the other hand, you seemed unphased. He had a point, wasn’t that an unspoken rule? It wasn’t like you and Sakura hadn't kissed before, but whenever you did, it was always in private. 

However, Suo seemed eager to know whether or not Sakura had the balls to kiss you in public, more eager than you for whatever reason. 

“I mean, I don’t have a problem with it,” you replied shyly. “Do you, Sakura?”

It took all he had to form a coherent sentence. “No—! But why do you guys have to be here?!” he yelled. 

“Well we wanna say bye too. Right, Nirei?” 

The blonde nodded his head hastily. He always saw you as a friend too, and not just an extension of Sakura. Although, he felt bad for Sakura’s flustered state right now. 

“Well then, I’ll see you guys later,” you waved at the two before turning to your boyfriend. “And you…”

If his cheeks could get any redder, they would. As you slowly leaned in for a kiss, he could see Suo’s sly smirk from the corner of his eye, as well as Nirei’s baffled face. Your face was getting closer and closer, eyes closed and lips parted, and all he could do was…

“Woah! There you go, Sakura,” Suo cheered. 

His body acted faster than his mind, and before he knew it he was cupping your face gently as his lips moved against yours. There was no telling what came over him— he just went for it. 

You pulled away, both breathless and flabbergasted. “I… I didn’t think you’d be so into it,” you stammered. 

He looked away in embarrassment. “You wanted a kiss, right? So that’s what I gave…”

Everyone, including you, looked at him with cheeky grins. 

“…you,” he finished, brows furrowing at the realization he’s the center of attention. “What’s everyone’s problem?!” 

“Oh nothing,” Suo smiled. “It just seems you’re head over heels, that’s all.”

He didn’t reply, only watching as you waved everyone goodbye and headed home. After all, there was no point in denying something that was true.

HIRAGI

“Here, take this.”

”But it’s the last one?”

”I can always buy more, y’know?” Hiragi insisted, still holding the last of his stomach medicine out to you. “Besides, all you're gonna do is complain about how much it hurts till you get home.”

You hesitantly took the small box from your boyfriend’s hand, looking back up at him with a concerned glance. “You sure?”

”I’m positive,” he assured.

Reluctantly, you took the last dissolvable pill, throwing the now empty box into a nearby recycling bin. It worked as fast as Hiragi said it would. In an instant, your stomach stopped twisting and turning, and you no longer felt like you were being torn apart from the inside. 

Hiragi watched from beside you, noticing your pained expression shifting into one of relief. He couldn’t help but let a small smile creep upon his lips. He knew better than anyone how bothersome stomach pains could be, so when you expressed how much yours ached, he felt the need to give up the last of his medicine— something he probably wouldn’t do so easily for anyone else.

“Thanks, Toma,” you said gratefully, hands tucked away in your pockets anxiously. It was until then you realized you’ve been forgetting something.

“Oh shit,” you muttered. “I forgot about these…”

You pulled out another pack of Hiragi’s stomach medicine. It was still wrapped, telling him you recently bought it. “I meant to give this to you earlier, but I was in so much pain that it slipped my mind.”

He examined the small box you held out to him, eyes wider than usual and mouth agape. 

“You really didn’t have to, y’know?”

You scratched the back of your head. “Well, you told me yesterday you were running low. So when I saw it in stock, I figured I’d get it for you just in case. And, well, it’s a good thing I did, huh?”

He felt something flutter in his stomach, something he’s still not used to feeling around you. He gently took the medicine from your hands and unwrapped it immediately. 

“Already!?” you yelped, watching as your boyfriend gulped down two of the dissolvable pills. 

He chuckled sheepishly. Despite the aid to his stomach, the feeling wouldn’t go away. He knew now that they were butterflies, and no amount of stomach relief could kill them. At least, not while you’re around.

“What am I going to do with you…” he sighed. 

Who knew that the tough, hardheaded Hiragi could be taken down by a couple of butterflies?

UMEMIYA

You could still recall the surprise you felt when you entered Umemiya’s room for the first time. It wasn’t its neatness— no. You figured Umemiya kept his room clean out of respect for his caretakers in the orphanage. It also wasn’t the wall full of photos that held memories of him, his friends, and even you.

No, none of that was a surprise to you.

It was the overflowing bookshelf against the widest wall that caught you off guard.

”I knew you were fond of a good book here and there,” you started as your widened eyes scanned the various titles that peeped out the shelf. “But this… this looks like it came straight from a library, Hajime.” you said in awe.

He gave you the go ahead to check it out, even pointing to the ladder tucked away in the corner of the room in case you wanted to reach the very top shelf— which even he couldn’t reach without an extra step. You gave him a small thanks as he flopped down onto his bed, turning his head to admire your moving frame.

”Oh?” you muttered, catching sight of a familiar spine. “Woah, you even have my favorite book,” you spoke, a hint of excitement lacing your tone.

”Hm?” he hummed, sitting up to catch a better glimpse of the book you held.

”This one! It’s my favorite, have you read it yet?” you inquired, wanting to ask if he’s read every book on that shelf for that matter. You were too fixated on rereading the synopsis on the back cover to notice your boyfriend was now standing beside you.

His eyes scanned the synopsis, not finding it familiar. “I think this is one of the one’s I’ve been meaning to read…” he said quietly, both speaking to you and himself.

You turned to face him, smiling at the focussed look plastered across his face. God, if only he knew how pretty he looked in the warm lighting of his room, you thought.

”Why don’t we read it?”

”But there’s only one copy…?”

”I meant together.”

Your words replayed in his head. You wanted to read the book with him… together… at the same time. ‘How would that go?’ he thought. He assumed you’d either be next to him, you’d hold one half of the book open while he held the other. He’d turn the page once you were both finished reading it, and maybe you’d lean your head on his shoulder and…

His face turned beet red as his mind conjured up all sorts of scenarios. No matter how he imagined it, it was always so… innocently intimate. You always looked adorable in his peripheral vision, and your presence alone warmed him more than the thick comforter you both sat under.

He didn’t realize he was staring until you waved your hand in front of his face.

”Earth to Hajime? Helloooo~?”

He stumbled back a bit in surprise, before eventually coming back to his senses. “Sorry! Sorry! I was just…”

”Staring at me for a minute straight?”

“Yes! No! Kinda?” he stumbled over his words, something you thought was a little unusual for him. “It’s just…”

You quirked a brow, both curious and nervous for what he has to say. It couldn’t be bad— considering how red in the face he was right now. Of course, that didn’t stop your stomach from doing backflips.

”I love you,” he blurted.

“I love you too,” you tilted your head, was that it? It was sweet, but it wasn’t like he never said it; what made him so nervous to say it this time?

“No, I don’t just love you…” his voice trailed off, and he took both your hands in his. The book you were previously holding hit the ground with a quiet ‘thud,’ and your lips parted in surprise.

”I’m in love with you, Y/n.” he confessed. “I would do anything you asked me to— anything. And if you wanna read this book together, then that’s what we’ll do.”

It was safe to say reading together became a regular thing for you two after that.

SUO

“You always sleep like that.”

Suo peered up at you with a quirked brow. “Hm? Like what?” 

“Like that,” you gestured to his figure. He laid on his back, arms resting over his stomach and hands placed atop each other as if he were ready to be placed in a casket. “Are you sure you’re not a vampire?”

“Oh? Are you questioning my humanity now?” he teased, sitting up from the mattress to better engage in conversation.

You rolled your eyes, ignoring his comment and thinking back to your original train of thought. 

Suo’s never cuddled with you.

The first time you shared a bed with the boy, you thought he was just stiff, not wanting to push any boundaries you may have had. Instead of questioning it, you opted to snuggle into his side for the night. Though you were a little disappointed to find him in the same state he fell asleep in when the sun rose, you never mentioned it.

That was until it happened again, and again, and again… 

“Do you hate cuddling?” 

His tired eye widened a bit in surprise, “What?”

“You sleep the same way every night… and you never cuddle. Are those two things related at all?”

Your words would’ve sounded harsh if it weren’t for your soft tone. You weren’t mad at him, only curious. What reason did he have for not wrapping an arm around you when you were lying right next to him? Don’t most couples do that when they sleep in the same bed, no matter how they sleep?

“I sleep like this out of habit. I’m sorry, love.” he spoke, voice soft and apologetic. “If you wanna cuddle tonight, I can try.”

“Please?” 

He hummed, patting the spot next to him for you to scoot over, which you gladly did. You both laid back down, arms loosely wrapping around each other as you buried your face into his chest. 

His scent was stronger this close up, something that soothed you greatly. You could tell he wasn’t used to this, and a small part of you felt bad for making ditch something he was adjusted to. 

“Sorry for—“

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” he reassured. “I should be the one saying sorry. I didn’t realize how selfish I was being.”

You pulled away from his chest to look up at him, “Selfish?” you laughed. “You weren’t selfish, you were just used to something else.”

“Mmm, I suppose,” he whispered, gently pushing your head back on his chest. “But I could definitely get used to this.”

You thought he planted your head back on his chest for the comforting feeling, which was true to a degree. But his main motive for keeping you from seeing his face was so you couldn’t see the blush that crept up to his cheeks. 

Yeah, he wouldn’t mind getting used to anything else as long as it were with you. 

KAJI

Kaji was never fond of having his possessions tampered with. 

For example, his precious headphones. They were a gift from Hiragi to keep him tamed when needed. Since the day he’s received them, he’s been incredibly selective with who can lay a finger on them. 

In all fairness, he had a right to do so. For one, they were a gift. Second, he actually needs them. To those who don’t know him, he may come off as possessive. But in reality, he’s just being protective.

His clothes on the other hand… yeah, those were a different story.

Having so little clothes, he’s careful to keep them all organized throughout the week. So when he notices one of his hoodies is missing…

“Where the hell did it go?” he grumbled under his breath, scouring through his wardrobe in search of his missing hoodie.

It was nowhere to be found. Not on the hangers, not on the shelves, not misplaced under a pair of pants, nowhere. His brows furrowed tightly in annoyance, he could’ve sworn it was there yesterday…

“Kaji? You okay over there?” your voice called from his bedroom doorway. 

Ah, he thought. In the midst of his dilemma, he forgot that you were supposed to be coming over today. He took a deep breath and closed his closet, turning around to face you. 

“One of my hoodies went missing, have you seen it any…” he went quiet, eyeing you up and down. 

So that’s where it went.

“You mean this one?” you said, gesturing to the soft hoodie that clung to your torso.

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

“My bad…” 

If he was being honest, he thought he’d be pissed if he found out you were the one who took it. That’s how he’d react if it were anyone else, right? But as he stared at his hoodie that you were wearing, he couldn’t feel an ounce of anger in him.

His cheeks turned red before he could notice, and he was too awestruck to utter another word. Seriously, shouldn’t he be mad? He thought he should be, but he couldn’t. 

You noticed his dumbfounded face from across the room, unsure of what he was trying to express. “Sorry, Kaji. Did you want it back?” 

“No—! You can…” his voice trailed off, finding his own thoughts to be unbelievable.

“Keep it,” he finished. 

“Really?” you beamed.

“Yes really… Now hurry up and pick another before I change my mind.”

You rushed over to him gleefully, embracing him in a tight hug. “You’re the best!”

He hugged back, burying his reddened face into the crook of your neck. You let him go to search through his closet, looking for an extra hoodie to take for keeping. As he watched you sort through each one, only one thought crossed his mind.

‘Who let this happen to me…?’ 

© enassbraid 2024. i do not permit plagiarism, translations, or reposts of my work on any platform.

[marcsburnerphone]

And they were roommates

(Captain John price x F!reader)

Summary: that captain wants somewhere more homely to settle down and when an offer like yours comes alight on Zillow he must take up on it.

Warnings: none yet

Part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4

———————

“John Price, military captain, heavily decorated, and unmarried.” you read off of a printed sheet of paper. He’s the third person you’ve seen today that wants to rent the room available. You were praying this one would be a success. You weren’t looking to house the married couples or the rowdy in love teenagers you’d seen earlier on today.

“Yes ma’am that is me.” He says looking down at you, not metaphorically but physically he’s inches above you. You’re far younger than he imagined, beautiful and so awfully well spoken that he’d assumed you’d be either his age or older.

“If this is your job and you’re not married and don't have kids I’m sure you get paid well. Why do you need a roommate?” You say hoping you don’t sound rude but with a job like that this man could afford much better.

“I’m not home much and basically live on base but for the times I do briefly return home id like it to be in a place like your home, beautiful, deserted, quiet.” The last few places he stayed in were apartments and he wanted to settle into something he actually cared to return to, not just someplace that could hold some belongings.

“Well then Mr.Price let me show you the rooms and house, follow me.” You lead him into your home through the halls and the living room simply showing him around making small talk about your job and hobbies.

“If you don’t mind me asking why is it you need a roommate?” He later returns the question, you halt in your tracks and stand still for a second making John hope he hadn’t overstepped.

“I was in a long term relationship that ended two years ago and when we broke up he left me the house or I technically demanded I keep it and um bills have been hard to keep up with.” You Look him in the eyes and smile softly, relieving him of the anxious feeling he’s holding.

“Sorry for asking.” He sincerely apologizes.

“Don’t worry about it, I think it's better you did because this will lead us to the next thing.” You reassure him and continue walking through a pair of French doors.

“This will be your office, I’m sorry about the boxes, they're a little too heavy for me to carry through this house and throw away.” You point to a fair amount of them pushed into a corner.

“No, don't worry about it, I'll get them out.” He replies kindly.

“And then right through here would be your bedroom.” It's exactly to the right of his office, a huge room which must be the master. He wonders if this had been the room you shared with your ex and by the look that covers your gorgeous features, he’s right.

“It has its own bathroom and a walk-in closet. If you want to live here, I’d like the home to be treated as if we both own it, not like you just rent a room, especially for the price.” You explain and truly that is your hope. He’s the perfect tenant and on his submission form he’s looking for a long term place which would mean less worry about the future bills on your behalf.

“When can I start moving in?” He turns to look in your hopeful eyes.

“Immediately if you want it of course.” You say with excitement. The mortgage payments have been a burden and this was a huge relief.

“Is it okay if I have some of my mates help me take these boxes out?” You nod enthusiastically with a quiet

‘of course’.

“I'll be back here early in the morning, Thankyou for inviting me into your home.” He says turning to make way back down the path you took to the room.

“Thankyou Mr.Price.” You offer your hand as a settlement.

“Call me John please.” He shakes it politely.

“I'll see you tomorrow john.” You say walking him to the door and bidding him a goodbye.

—————-

“Be honest captain, is she cute?” John had the unfortunate situation of having to haul soap with him in his car while the two other men drove the moving truck that he only rented to get rid of the boxes you had.

“She’s nearly a decade younger than me.” He answers hoping that’ll lay it to rest.

‘That doesn’t answer my question.” Soap never chooses peace.

“Yeah she’s stunning.” And really you were.

—————————-

“Hi good morning, come in.” You say opening the door letting the cold air sweep into your warm home. Eyeing the huge men that stood in the doorway.

“Good morning this is soap, gaz, and that's ghost if you couldn’t tell. This is my task force and certainly my best mates.” John replies quickly giving them an introduction.

“Nice to meet you all.” You say trying your hardest to not sound intimidated.

“And you as well, gorgeous.” Soap says gripping your small hand in his own.

“He’s a flirt, don't worry about him.” Gaz says, shaking your hand next.

“Nice to meet you.” Ghost offers you his gloved hand giving you the softest handshake he thinks he’s ever given in his life.

“Well you boys can get too it there is pastries on the counter and drinks in the fridge if you need anything i'll be in my room that’s down this hall.” You say smiling at all of them then reaching into the pocket on your paint stained overalls fishing out a pair of keys.

“Oh and before I can forget John these are yours, this one is too your office and bedroom door and this one is too the house door.” You say handing them over on the pink keychain you’ve kept them on all this time.

“Thank you.” He says before you walk away.

————————

“That little lady does not know how to pack these. They are insanely heavy, how'd she ever expect to get them out.” Soap says picking up a box from the office room that’s filled with papers.

“I don’t think that was her main concern.” John says as he also picks one up walking them outside and into the U-Haul he rented.

“She’s a true stunner though, how will John Price be able to resist?” He teases his captain.

“I’m with soap on that one.” Ghost surprisingly grumbles throwing a box down on the gravel.

“Should’ve seen the way she was looking at you captain.” Gaz enters this pointless conversation out of breath gently setting down more boxes.

“I actually think you're the only one here whose age is appropriate for her gaz.” Gaz makes a sound of disagreement.

“Captain 8 years isn’t what you’re making it seem, don't you remember when soap had a girlfriend like 13 years older than him.” The memory flashes through all their minds and ghost has to keep himself from giggling.

“And don’t you remember how it ended.” It was ugly, soap found that when time passes people get older and being 37 with a 50 year old wasn’t what he thought it’d be.

“All I’m saying is I think some romance with a pretty lady like that could do you some good. I mean your living in a home together tension will get to you at some point.” John rolls his shoulders back and sighs.

“Shut up and get back to work, all of you.” The captain says demanding as they all hurry back inside.

But what if?

——————-

“Wow, I don't know when’s the last time I've seen these rooms empty.” You say walking into the office.

“Was it all his?” John says giving you a one up at the change in clothes. You're wearing your pajamas which consist of shorts and a big shirt.

“Yeah it was, when will you be bringing in your own stuff?” You reply quickly changing the topic.

“I actually have all my stuff in my truck, only three boxes, I’m not a man of many possessions.” He laughs Gruffly swiping a hand over his mouth.

“I have clean sheets in my closet if you’ll be needing some.” You offer politely.

“Please.” He says and you nod, turning to go get them.

“I’ll just be bringing in the rest of my belongings.” He says walking down the opposite end of the hallway.

He brings the boxes in one by one, setting them in the office not paying mind to where you could have gone till he brings the last one in and hears you humming in the bedroom putting what were to be his pillows inside pillow cases.

“Oh love you didn’t have too. I've been making my own bed on base for longer than my memory goes back.” His deep voice slightly startles you.

“Sorry, it's just a habit.” You apologize softly and he wonders if it came off the wrong way.

“No, Thankyou is what I really mean.” He says slightly smiling at the floral print sheets that now adorn his bed.

“Sorry these are actually the least feminine looking ones I have.” You smile realizing how silly it looks for a man as manly as the one who stands before you to have blue and pink flower sheets.

“No worries love.” He nods to you.

“Well I'll see you in the morning, goodnight.” You say giving him a small pat on the shoulder and leaving to what he could only assume to be your bedroom.

He got changed for the night, ready to settle into bed. As soon as his head hit the pillows the scent of lavender and a perfume that had to solely be you was invading his senses. Something so feminine and warm and good, god was it good. He turned his head slightly more into the pillow taking a deep breath in and out enjoying it. The more he focused on it the easier the sleep had come and before he knew it he was sleeping like a bear in hibernation.

—————————————-

I’m ready for a new story.

Comments and reposts and greatly appreciated<3

If anyone has thoughts or ideas on how this should go please send them in.

[chososdiscordkitten]

Kneel.

Synopsis: Priest!Nanami being completely and utterly tormented by nasty thoughts of reader (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

Pairing: Nanami x Fem!Reader Content: pwp, plot before porn, catholicism, questioning faith, sooo much guilt, reader is 29, nanami is 34, reader kinda mysterious -.-

MDNI

Nanami’s life as a priest was busy- no time to be bored, nor time to yearn for more. Two or three funerals a month, mass every day- more than twice on Sundays. A handful of weddings a year, the many church groups he would oversee. His schedule was almost always fully booked.

His life was steady- a routine he followed every day. A life he was riding down happily. 

And when that peaceful life hit a bump, Nanami felt his life could be derailed entirely if he allowed it. 

‘I do it for my god.’

‘I do it for my parish.’

That’s what Nanami reminded himself of when your eyes would catch onto his. 

Preaching Sunday mass to the churchgoers- trying to direct his words to everyone. But whenever he did a scan of the room, his eyes stuck onto you for a brief moment.

Unable to shake the split-second thought of how you were the kind of woman he would have talked up in his 20s. He would shoo them aside before his expression could show what he was thinking. Placing his focus on preaching, instead of you.

You, who always sat at the very back of the church hall. And always with a questioning peak on your brow. 

But only you never stayed long enough after the service was over for him to properly introduce himself. Always walking out the minute the church-goers stood up to bid farewell to their neighbors. 

Even if he was held back by shaking hands- praising him for such a wonderful sermon. Nanami’s eyes still caught a glimpse of you that left the giant wooden doors of the church. Even more so, the clicking of heels against the tile- proud steps away from him as though you had completed your task.

Never did you stand for the sacramental wine nor the offering of the body of Christ. You only stayed in one of the pews at the very back and watched the line of merry people take them from his hands. A tilted head in curiosity with a small smile, as though you were poking fun at them in your mind. 

Day by day, sermon by sermon, you started inching towards him. One pew after the other. And when he finally noticed how close you had gotten, a mere 4 benches away from him. Nanami could see you up close now- the revealing collarbone that stood prominent with every inhale you took, the curve of your neck when you tilted it to the side. And every slight squint you would make as he spoke. 

Seeing you from a distance was one thing- being able to hide his catching gaze whenever he would address the flock. 

But now, he could see you even closer, his eyes catching onto how your lips would slightly purse. Almost in disbelief—when he would recite direct words from the Bible. Caused him to stutter over his words, excusing himself quickly before continuing. 

The part that made his mind reel was the congregation avoiding you. As though you weren’t even there. And Nanami knew this was impossible. A beautifully haunting churchgoer would’ve been swarmed by the single men of the church. 

But to you, they never mattered. Always swatting them away with one harsh look- at times, the aura you held was enough for them to steer clear. And the women of the flock didn’t find it very church-like that you did not greet them upon entry nor bid goodbye to your neighbors when the service was over. 

And the blatant isolation only made Nanami worry- knowing the church’s people can be judgemental at times. 

The Father blamed his priest nature for wanting to introduce himself. Knowing you had been attending for a few weeks now, and wanting to see if you were finding your way in the congregation.

Seven years wearing the white collar made Nanami think he had some sense when it came to acknowledging a troubled soul. However, the unfazed expression you would hold as he spoke and the slight look back at him when you would leave the church, left the man more troubled than you could ever be. 

At once, while he was speaking- preaching the words he carefully chose from the good book. Nanami’s eyes caught onto yours. Stuttering over his words as he watched you raise a brow and tilt your head, all with a vexing smile on your painted lips. 

As though you were taunting him for the stumbling, he saw it in the way you looked at him. Nanami felt your gaze on his skin as he spoke. Felt it burn into him with every word.

And when you finally lined up with the others during the eucharist. His jaw clenched, a sprinkle of nerves coating his hands as he watched glimpses of you through the line of people. Even lined up- you stood out. 

As you came closer to him with every person he gave the small wafer to, Nanami felt his heart start to pound. Never spoken to you- never even introduced himself. And his heart was racing. 

When you stood before him; Thick eyelashes and plump lips greeted him with a small smile. 

Blinking softly and looking up at him, parting your mouth and pressing the tip of your tongue to your bottom lip. Nanami inhaled, his hand lightly trembling as he held the little cookie. 

Looking into his eyes as he placed the weightless wafer to your bottom lip. His adam’s apple bobbing with a gulp, watching you pull the wafer into your mouth with a grin before leaving the line. 

The interaction wasn’t longer than a second- but it shook the Father to his core. Knowing that for the first time in the seven years of being in the priesthood, the first time since he was ordained– he had questioned his faith. 

For the rest of the mass, Nanami couldn’t shake the image of you from his mind. With every blink, he saw a flash of you, softly batting your eyelashes up at him with your lips parted. Even more so when he would scan the audience and see your face, a smirk on your expression, as though you were aware of the torment you had inflicted on the priest. 

Nanami didn’t know what brewed in his soul; he had no clue what called him to you. Why you were so tempting. 

That evening, when the large room was emptied. The Father prayed. He prayed and repented for the wisping thoughts that dared enter his mind. 

‘Let me help this woman,’ he prayed, ‘Let me help you find your way.’ as though he was speaking to you directly, unaware of what plagued you or why you ended up in the church's halls. 

Pleading with the ethereal being in the clouds to help him. To help him see why you were put before him. And what lesson you were meant to teach him. 

Even as he was preaching the words written in the Bible. He would pray in his mind- begging the Lord to rid him of the plaguing thoughts of you.

When he would kneel, close his eyes, hold his hands together against his lips and pray to his god; Nanami always expected some divine insight to race into his mind once he rose from his knees. He always hoped his god would tell him how to fix his issues. 

And so far, it had been a one-sided conversation. 

Tuesdays were spent sitting on the uncomfortable wooden confessional bench, hearing the same issues the regular churchgoers would come to confess. 

‘Anger, gluttony, greed.’

It was always the same—the same menial sins from the same people. Nanami often wondered if they had not tired from the repetitiveness. If they were not as exhausted as he was from listening to the problems they refused to fix. 

After the last regular left the booth, Nanami checked his watch. Noting there was only 20 minutes before 6pm. Part of him wanted to leave the booth then and there. Lock the doors of the church and continue his work in the office. 

But something told him to stay. 

Knowing he was right as he heard the heavy doors open, and the light clacking of heels hitting tile. Getting closer and closer as the Father awaited the curtain next to him to open. 

He cleared his throat as he heard someone ease onto the wooden bench. “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.” he spoke, hearing your voice whisper an ‘amen’ along with him. 

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” 

Nanami closed his eyes- almost in pain hearing your voice ring through his ears. 

Silk and smooth as he expected. “It has been 14 years since my last confession.” your tone conveying a small smile- the same grin you would have on your lips during mass. 

The man couldn’t speak- his cheeks ran with slight tingles as he heard you. 

“I’ve committed a handful of sins, Father. I don’t know where to start.” tilting your head to the side and awaiting the mans guidance. 

He inhaled, shaking off the feeling of thinking it was you behind the screen. “Of all of them, which seems to be the one that weighs on you most?” his tone was steady- stark contrast to his pained expression. 

“The one that plagues me most-” lightly humming, almost taunting him as you thought. “May I be honest?” you spoke- hearing quiet shifting beside you. 

“Of course. Please- be honest.” Nanami urged, eager to know why you were placed in his path. Why you. 

The grin that arose on your cheeks was one that shouldn’t have. “I have been lusting after a man I shouldn’t be.” You spoke with a light rasp in your tone. Proud shoulders, not daring to falter their posture. 

Nanami clenched his jaw. Pondering if he genuinely wanted to tread through these waters. 

“I have thought vile things while in his presence.” spoken just shy of a whisper- loud enough for him to hear. “I try tempting him.” 

It wasn’t your words- nor the sultry tone you took that bothered the Father. It was how callous they fell from your lips. How easily you admitted these sins and how unapologetic you sounded. 

Even if you had not physically done anything— the sins were only committed in your mind—your confession showed him you were on the steps to show some kind of penance. 

“Do you know the ‘Act of contrition’ prayer?” Nanami asked, hoping the words would bring him back to stable ground. 

“I do.” you spoke softly, awaiting his instructions. 

Gulping softly, “Kneel.” he commanded, his tone sending a direct spike of warmth down your spine. 

Slowly shifting onto the ground, placing your elbows onto the wooden seat, and interlocking your fingers together. “Pray.” the Father spoke in a curt breath, his tone all but begging you to. 

You closed your eyes. “My God, I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee,” softly reciting the prayer as the Father mouthed the words as you spoke them. 

Even as you recited the rest of the prayer- instead of helping, this only fed the rot growing in Nanami’s brain. Now, knowing you were aware enough of Catholicism and still thought of vile things, he refused to imagine.

And as he recited a prayer of absolution- he begged in his mind for you to pray for him as well.

Pray for him to find the strength to keep the box of carnal thoughts he locked away when he was anointed at bay. 

Even if the priest didn’t believe it, “God has freed you from your sins,” he said. “Go in peace.” knowing that, as it was on Sundays, you would go in peace, whereas Nanami would be left more troubled than when he started. 

And as he heard your voice whisper, ‘Thank you Father.’ before the clacking of heels descended onto the tiles. The thoughts inside that locked box dared to reawaken themselves. 

Thoughts he reserved only for his early twenties, no longer having the right to access them now. But you- you shoved the reservations aside. Made room for yourself in his mind- what plagued him most was how unsure he was if it really was you behind the wooden fence of the booth.

Nanami would be lying if he said he had never prayed as hard as he did once you left the confession box. Making sure to lock the church doors and light a candle. 

Standing at the center of the aisle, the statue of his god looking down at him with tears in his eyes. As though his god was disappointed in him.

Nanami fell to his knees, defeated and scared of what was planted into his brain. 

And as he started his prayer, the words sounded as though he was asking for mercy. Pleading with his god to forgive him, to rid him of you and the infiltrating things he pictured as you spoke. He begged for help on his hands and knees- even a light tear leaving his closed eye. 

Sunday’s morning mass came and went. Nerves filled his hands as he awaited the afternoon mass to start. 

Nanami awaited you- his eyes locking onto the door anytime it opened. He held off the mass as long as he could. And the realization that you were not showing up affected him more than it should have. 

And when afternoon mass started, he thought it might’ve been his fault. Had he assisted you better in your confession, maybe you would have shown up. 

Nanami made up a handful of excuses on your behalf, that you were sick- or just busy.

But none of them were true. None of the excuses Nanami made up satisfied him enough to still his mind. 

And as he was gathering his belongings from the lectern, the church empty and dim as he accumulated his thoughts. The sound of the large doors opening caused him to look up. 

The figure of you walking down the aisle in his direction, calf-length black dress and the same black heels that clacked against the tile. your cheeks lightly damp from the heavy rain that echoed through the halls.

Even dressed modestly- the sight of you still troubled the man. 

Nanami knew it was only you, him, and his god in that room now. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to use the congregation as an excuse to look away. 

He parted his lips to speak, only you spoke faster than he could- “Father, I was hoping we could talk.” a low tone- different from the one you used when you sat in the confessional. But speaking with the same ease that he heard the last time, it made him realize that ‘anonymous’ confession wasn’t anonymous anymore. Nanami was sure it was you now. 

And as though his prayers worked- your face looked almost remorseful. 

“Not as a confession.” you reiterated, causing the man to gulp lightly and try to gather his thoughts. “Just to talk.” 

Ending up sitting in his office- a small room at the very back of the church. Small windows being pelted with heavy raindrops.

Set up in the same way a principal’s office would be. Sitting across from him, desk separating you from the priest. 

Even if he sat in the chair that technically held the power- the aura that surrounded you made a chill run down his spine when he eased into his chair. 

“How are you finding the congregation?” he asked, words he had been thinking since he noticed your seclusion. And being able to ask you without worrying it wasn't you sitting beside him. 

Crossing your ankles and lightly easing onto the arm of the chair, you softly smiled, “The people are kind. I know I can sometimes come off standoffish; they still try.” 

Nanami felt a tension in his throat, as if he had taken an overly large bite of a meal he wasn’t ready for. “I had noticed you had not engaged with the others.”  

“Did you?” you asked- taking on that little upturn in your tone. Your low eyes watch the man before you gulp. The white collar became tight from the words that sounded all too tantalizing than they should have. 

“It made me worry.” he looked down at the calendar on his desk- full of black pen marks of that month’s activities. 

You lightly furrowed your eyebrows, “Worry?” 

“Worry that you weren’t finding your way in the church.” he reiterated, trying to shake away the nerves and make this as you asked. Just a talk. 

Nanami wanted to bring up your confession- he needed to know why you wanted to tempt a man. He wanted to know if you were speaking of him. 

“When I see you leave immediately after the service,” he continued, feeling the light searing your gaze onto his skin. 

“I never had the chance to properly introduce myself-” he spoke, flashing his eyes at you. 

“Do you introduce yourself to every new church member, Father?” You asked, words that almost made the man cough. 

“I try to.” he admitted. Even if every cell in his brain told him to lie- to say ‘Yes, I do.’ 

“I imagine it’s quite difficult- so many people.” you thrummed, softly turning your head to the side and looking at the walls. Decorated with old paintings that had been hung there long before Nanami had been anointed. 

His mind reeling with questions a priest shouldn't ask a member of his flock.

“I am.” you hummed, looking back at the man whose eyes widened slightly. Unsure if you had heard his thoughts or- “Finding my way in the church.” elaborating on his confusion. 

“Were you raised catholic?”

The little grin that rose on your cheeks should’ve told him everything, but it only caused more confusion for the man. “I was,” you mumbled, looking at the body language he held as he sat. 

Tense broad shoulders that made your thighs press together whenever your eyes caught them. A furrowed brow that would twitch when you started speaking. “Around 16 or so, I left the church.” 

“And what brought you back?” he spoke—clearer and without fault. He aimed his intentions at helping you instead of trying to aid his wandering conscious. 

Looking down to your hands, “When I moved back here- something told me to come see the church.” lightly shifting in the chair as you spoke, “Imagine my surprise when I saw a priest I wasn’t expecting, walk before the congregation.” 

He took those words as a negative- as though you were disappointed that he greeted you and not another priest. 

“Were you raised in the church?” you asked softly, watching his eyebrows pinch in the slightest. 

He took a light breath- “I was.” nodding softly and recalling the memories of his youth. There was a small silence- waiting for him to continue as he expected your voice to speak up. Knowing this was to counsel you- not the other way around. 

“Continue, Father, please.” watching his eyes squint and think on it. 

Lightly clenching his teeth, he said, “I went to an all-boys Catholic school.” He softly blinked, looking down at his hands.  

“So you always wanted to be a priest?” you asked, the question coming off more sarcastic than genuine. 

He scoffed with a small hearty laugh- clearing his throat and sitting up. “No- no, I didn’t want to join the priesthood until I was 23.” he elaborated, watching you softly nod. 

“What made you turn back to religion?” repeating the question he had asked you earlier, only with a more seductive tone.

‘Because of haunting women like you.’ was all he could think as you awaited his answer. 

“I wanted to help people—I want. To help,” he said, words he hoped you would hear and pick up on his urge to assist you. 

In your mind, a sneering comment flashing in red- 'You want to help?' almost like a challenge.

“When I came to confess earlier this week-” you brought it up. That’s what Nanami held onto in his mind. You brought it up. He didn’t. 

“I still felt plagued by what I spoke to you about, father.” looking at him with a sprinkle of feigned sincerity in your eyes. 

Only to the man before you- that false sincerity was seen as an urge to rid yourself of your sins. 

His face was still- unshowing any emotion that throbbed in his mind. And you took it as him not remembering. “I recited the prayer of contrition,” you spoke- some attempts to remind him. 

Only the Father knew precisely what you were referring to. “I remember.” he assured, softly nodding and allowing you to continue. 

“After- I felt even worse.” Bowing your head to hide the smile on your cheeks as you toyed with your hands. “They didn’t stop after I left- if anything,” the words spilled from your lips, causing goosebumps to rise on his skin from what you were insinuating. 

“They got worse- more filthy; once I left, Father.” your expression hidden from him- and your tone soft, hinting that this indeed plagued you. 

You sighed, “It was unbearable.” accentuating the word with a pained tone. Smiling to yourself, “I’m sure you know the feeling, Father- as though one light breeze would make you combust at that moment.” 

 “I couldn’t even bring myself to come-” Nanami’s hand dared to clench at your words, “-to Mass this morning; that’s how shameful I felt.”

Answering Nanami’s question without having to ask it- “I thought it would be less frowned upon if I stepped into the church after mass.” 

Nanami gulped at the insinuation- all too fearful of what you spoke of. “Have you prayed on this?” he asked, air threatening to choke his words. 

Looking up at him with pinched brows, lips parted ever so slightly. “I have never prayed so much in my life before this.” 

Your words conflicted with. If you were so godly and sure of Catholicism. Why do your eyes tell him another story? Why do your eyes glimmer with hints of intent- as though you were looking at prey?

“Why do you think these thoughts have yet to leave you?” he spoke- words he said as a priest but meant as a person. 

“I think a masochistic part of me urges me to continue returning to the cause.” Words that rung true in his ears- knowing that he was the same. That, he very much could have excused you- tell you he was busy or that he could not talk at that moment. 

But the same as you, Nanami allowed himself to allow you access to him. The excuse of closure and the urge to help, used to defend himself to the god above him. 

Spoken in a whisper, “Like an itch I can’t scratch.” the Father started contemplating how far it would be if he admitted to the same thing- how bad it would truly be, if he confessed that the very same thing had plagued him.

Nanami was about to part his lips to speak- but the little reminder on his phone rang beside him. Looking down and seeing it- a parish meeting. “Maybe we should continue this next week.” he spoke- almost relieved that he would be able to escort you from the room thick with tension. 

“Have I taken too much of your time, father?” you asked- voice churned with the slightest hint of false distress. 

Nanami inhaled- “Not at all.” with a smile, “I just have a parish meeting in a few minutes.” he excused. Pushing his chair back and standing. 

And as he walked you past the church’s pew benches- a few inches to your side. “How does next Sunday sound?” he spoke, a low tone laced with the tiniest hit of smugness.

Shoes clicking against the tile as he walked. And as you turned your head over to him, a mindless hand was placed on your back. The lightest touch guiding you towards the door. 

“Sunday is perfect, Father.” you mumbled, watching his hand open the large door and await you to step out. 

And as he watched you leave his church- he almost closed his eyes in relief. 

Thinking of the movement Nanami hadn’t made since his days in college- a little action he would use on the opposite gender. It flustered him more now than it ever did. 

Life as a priest didn’t require him to touch women- ever so often holding their hands in his as they spoke to him. A handshake, a side hug from the overly enthusiastic housewives after his services. 

But that touch- the feeling of your back pressed against his palm. It sent shocks of fear mixed with excitement down his spine. 

During the entire parish meeting; the Father’s mind was fogged. Unsure what he was getting into- or why he was so determined to walk head first into this. Even if it was you who caused him to contemplate his life in the priesthood. 

Nanami would help you find your way, even if it killed him trying to. Reminding himself of the words in his mind. 

‘I do it for my god.'

'I do it for my parish.’

-

PT 2

(a.n) ....hehe

[blockedbykei]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 (𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐈𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇)

🏐 — tsukishima kei x f!reader

— synopsis: something about the stars has always intrigued tsukishima, how even in the dusk of the night, the brighest star would light up the world and burn itself in the process. he also didn't know what to do when that star had turned into the person who seemed to make his days just a little bit better.

— warnings: nothing much, except angst. just soft yet also mean tsukishima who doesn't know what to do with those feelings of his. maybe he's a little ooc. based on "andromeda" by weyes blood.

stars, so miniscule, so far away from his touch, so beautiful even with the stygian waters that it swims on.

every night, after practice, tsukishima would walk his lethargic body home with his headphones in his ears, his neck bent backwards it could snap. but he didn't care, he wanted to watch the stars move and follow him.

he wanted to watch all the dead stars who shined the brightest, the stars that had turned into supernovas, the stars that are created. and he felt at peace— the soft rhythm and reverb of the song humming in his ears, and the stars that lead him home.

and occasionally, adding to his visual and auditory senses, a sweet drink on the palate of his tongue made his evenings better.

tonight was no different.

he had just bid his goodbye to his teammates, although timidly and without masking that annoyance he'd always bore against the little tangerine boy who always had a little too much energy.

tsukishima begins his journey, using the stars as his map, putting his hands in his pockets. yamaguchi hadn't joined him for tonight. actually, he hasn't joined him in a while, always walking yachi home, using her "safety" as an excuse (it really was the reason, but obviously there was another one).

still, he didn't mind the absence of his friend.

anri's soft doo-wop brings pleasantries in his ears as the song begins. his fingers tap inside the pocket of his gym shorts. he looks up at the night sky and connects his own constellations. tsukishima wonders if those stars ever know that they're being admired by millions of people in this planet, even if they'd died billions of years ago.

as a child, he used to think that the stars were the meteors that had killed his beloved dinosaurs. and every night, he would refuse to look up. but then akiteru, despite finding humor in his little brother's childish belief, had decided to tell him the difference between meteors and stars. and then added more information about those stars.

so now tsukishima loved three things: dinosaurs, strawberry shortcake, and stars.

his feet patter softly on the cobblestone that serves as a pathway to his home, the cool air drying the sweat off his temples and cooling his back, which reminds him to wipe his sweat when he gets home before he showers to avoid getting sick.

and then he suddenly comes in contact with a small body.

just outside of sakanoshita market, tsukishima's chest bursts in sudden (but light) pain from the person's elbow. and that person had emit a small noise of surprise and pain, stumbling backwards.

tsukishima was just about to snap, tell the person to look where they had been going and call them an idiot when his eyes met yours.

they're wide, irises darkened from the night's haze, and you're clutching your elbow, headphones askew. you rub the soft skin, a small pout on your lips and tsukishima wonders how painful was it for you to pout like this.

then you look at him and he feels the air stuck in his throat.

pretty.

"oh! sorry. i didn't mean to bump into you." you bow in front of him, hands pliant at your sides. tsukishima's at lost for words, lips only parted and looking at you. he still hasn't said anything when you bring yourself back up again.

"it's- it's okay." he finally stammers out, pausing his music and moving his headphones off from one ear. "sorry for not looking either." tsukishima bows slightly, just tilting the top half of his body.

you smile lightly at him, hanging your own headphones around your neck, scanning his figure. he suddenly feels shy under your curious gaze, watching as you read the print on the left side of his chest.

"karasuno...? ka-karasuno! i go there," you laugh lightly, like that discovery was the greatest news you'd ever heard. "i don't think i've seen you around. well, maybe because i'm new. i'm such a dumbass."

though the last sentence being a whisper, tsukishima contradicts: "n-no. i haven't seen you around either." he takes one step forward towards you, didn't expect himself to be nearer than he'd planned. "tsukishima kei."

you tell him yours in a polite manner, with a smile so bright you'd beat the stars that hover both of your bodies. "you're part of the volleyball club, aren't you?"

he hopes you don't see his wavering blush in the dim lights. "yes."

"cool! what position?"

"middle blocker."

"that's so cool," you face him, neck bent upwards to meet his eyes, hands forming into excited fists in front of you, like how hinata would get enthusiastic about something. "you're really tall. i bet, i mean if you could, you'd hit the streetlights when you jump."

that theory piques his curiosity. his eyebrows raise. "i haven't given it a thought. i will try it soon though." tsukishima finally removes his headphones and leaves them around his neck. he points to the bag in her hands. "what'd you buy?"

"chocolate milk. ukai-chan is your coach, right?"

"how'd you know?"

"i see him enter the gym everyday after classes. he owns this store," your head motions behind you. "can you tell him his mom is a little mean? i actually preferred it when he was watching over the store."

tsukishima smiles a little. "can't. he's our coach. he might actually drop us for his store."

your laugh may be brighter than anything else in existence.

"okay, well, see you around tsukishima-san." you smile at him, the pearls of your teeth glinting in the moonlight, the whiskers of your eyes denote the glee you've obtained from him and tsukishima softens just a little. you wave at him and walk past him.

he turns around, and even though your back was to him, his hand lifts and waves at you.

tsukishima walks home happier than he expected, a small smile lingering on his face.

🏐 —

"who you looking for, tsukki?"

yamaguchi serves his friend a teasing smile, holding the tray carefully in his hands. tsukishima looks down at his friend and deadpans:

"shut up, yamaguchi."

"sorry tsukki."

they sit down on the table hinata and kageyama sit on, the two bantering quite loudly on which flavored milk was the best and is advisable to increase their energy. kageyama says: "banana, you dumbass."

hinata argues that: "it's chocolate! it makes people hyper for a reason. could you watch your language?!"

tsukishima and yamaguchi sit beside each other, their backs to the window of the cafeteria, which meant that tsukishima has a view of the entire room, his height being an advantage despite the large crowds.

he blindly brings his bento out of his box, his eyes never leaving the heedless crowd. yamaguchi, ever the curious, most specifically the friend who always wondered what it is that ran through tsukishima's mind, asked again: "seriously, tsukki, who are you looking for?"

tsukishima huffs. "just sawamura-san. i need a-advice. on my blocks." the lie slips easily off his tongue that yamaguchi can't decide between believing him or forcing the truth out of him.

but tsukishima is slightly disappointed that even after five minutes, he still can't see the color of your hair amidst the throng of students. though his face might say otherwise (rbf), he can't help but feel a little sad.

maybe the star isn't shining so bright today.

he pokes and prods at the vegetables placed on top of his rice, stabbing the carrot and shoving it in his frowning mouth. he doesn't notice that hinata has been observing– no, looking at him. because hinata was never the type of person who could be discreet.

"stingyshima, you look sad," he doesn't know if it's a tease or not, but maybe it is. "is he looking for someone, yamaguchi?"

"i don't know," he shrugs. "he says he's looking for sawamura-san."

"he's right there," kageyama jabs his finger behind him, seeing daichi in line for the cafeteria food. "your blocks haven't been good? figured."

"sorry if i haven't lived up to your standards, king." tsukishima sneers. yamaguchi and hinata laugh, kageyama burning in his seat.

eating his lunch ended quite faster than he thought it would, and soon he finds himself walking along the hallway of the school building waiting for the remaining free time to end. so his boredom drags his feet towards the nearest vending machine.

the device on his ears blocked out all the haze and noise of the world, which left him in his own environment. it eased the nerves that trickled along his veins, rubbed the tension off his shoulders. in his own milieu, he could think whatever and say whatever and do whatever.

just like how stars form themselves however they please, explode and die whenever they want to. tsukishima didn't have better knowledge of stars than he knew of dinosaurs, but it was his own thought and he had the freedom to think whatever it is (although of course, with just a little bit of accuracy and validity).

tsukishima's eyes scan the plastic divisions for the sight of any strawberry drinks. when they land on one, he types the number and slips the cash in. the conveyor belts begin to twist.

but much to his dismay, when the drink was pushed, it never fell.

he tuts in frustration, his head falling backwards to release a tired, irritated sigh.

and then you pop up beside him.

tsukishima jumps lightly when he sees you put your head out and smile at him, clutching his heaving chest. somehow, your laugh had managed to drown out the song in his ears; he doesn't mind though. he thinks your smile was the most beautiful orchestra ever conducted.

he puts his headphones around his neck. "they're incredibly annoying, aren't they?" you smile up at him. "here, i'll help you."

suddenly, you begin to violently shake the vending machine. tsukishima almost feels embarrassed for you, but the lack of audience has rid that feeling. you, with your height, looked like a child angrily throwing a tantrum and had transferred your anger towards an object.

nonetheless, adorable.

finally, the strawberry drink fell down, and you squat to pick it up from the port to give it to him. tsukishima takes it from you and says: "thank you."

"no problem!" you beam at him. "i was actually looking for you earlier. i couldn't see you. did you eat at your classroom?"

tsukishima removes the plastic of his straw. "no. i was at the cafeteria." he doesn't want to admit he's looking for you too, but he hopes you can see it in his eyes.

(you don't. to you, he looked uninterested and entertained at the same time. very hard to read)

"aw, alright. well, i was just wondering if you'd like to, uh, switch emails?" you're shy and he finds it amusing. "not switch like i use yours and you use mine, but switch like i take yours and you take mine... so we could text each other..."

he wants to say that he knows, he's not dumb. but you– your eager eyes of softness look up at him and he forgets how to be so cruel and cold. like you were the kind of fire to melt the falling snowflakes. tsukishima nods.

"sure." he pulls his phone out with one hand from his pocket and hands it to you. you take it and give your phone to him, and it felt smaller in his hands.

when you exchange phones again, there's shyness written across your face. tsukishima can't help but blush with the way the sun kisses your skin the way it would to tainted windows– radiating colors so beautiful he can't help but simply be at awe towards you.

a star is created somewhere far away. tsukishima's heart skips a beat.

"i was actually looking for you, too. earlier." he admits, putting his phone back in his pocket. "i couldn't see you. sorry."

"don't be sorry!" there goes that smile again, always making his heart flip. "we both struggled anyway."

"do you want anything?" he points to the vending machine. "chocolate? banana? strawberry?"

"can i try yours first?"

tsukishima pauses, the straw in his mouth just finishing his sip. there's innocence in your eyes that riles him up the wall in ludicrous ways. he slowly takes the straw out between his lips and hands it to you, with you greedily taking it from him before his hand met you halfway.

he swears he could've been redder than any other person in the world when you so shamelessly put his straw in your mouth.

should i be worried about the germs or the fact that we kind of just kissed but not really?

when you sip, you swallow and he can see your brain ponder on what decision you were going to make. you hand it back to him and say: "yeah, i like that one, too."

how could you act like you didn't just drink from his straw?

tsukishima gets you one, this time without shaking the vending machine and hands it to you.

"thank you." you say, your smile adding to your gratitude.

though it seems as if time has reached its end and a familiar sound rings across the hallway that reminds the both of you that the free time was over. tsukishima sees your pout but you don't directly show it to him.

"well, see you around, tsukishima!" you wave goodbye to him, walking away.

tsukishima stands still, staying at his place. his drink was no longer cold, the condensation dripping down his fingers.

somehow, the colors are brighter, the drink was sweeter, the tension from his body had disappeared, and everything else felt lighter. and even if you were no longer standing in his proximity, that luster you left behind etched itself to him.

you were now his new environment.

🏐 —

you. hi tsukishima! 3:13pm

when his phone dings, he places his waterbottle to his side, tuning out the sound of squeaking shoes and bouncing balls. he sees your name on the screen. he doesn't hesitate to text back.

tsukishima. Hi. 3:13pm

his palms sweat from simply typing that greeting. but his heart seems to beat faster and his chest feels light. he didn't expect that you'd text right away. nevertheless, he feels elated to see you text him.

you. didnt see u at the gates earlier during dismissal, do u have training today? 3:15pm

tsukishima. Yes. 3:15pm

you. oh really? until what time? 3:18pm

tsukishima. 7. 3:18pm

you. okay! thats kind of tiring haha. 3:20pm

tsukishima. It is. 3:20pm

he winces at the possible tone he may deliver, so he adds:

tsukishima. Haha. 3:20pm

"bruh, you text so lame."

it seems that tanaka had been peaking over his shoulder as the conversation ensued. tsukishima hugs his phone to his chest and glares at him. "that's invasion of privacy."

"and that's how to lose a girl," he points at his phone. "you text like you're so uninterested."

yamaguchi looks at the two. "who's tsukki texting?"

"some girl named, uh,–"

"no one." tsukishima snaps. "no one."

"oh, it must be the one tsukishima was looking for earlier," hinata runs– or skips towards them. "stingyshima flirting? i wonder how you look like. i'm smart, but i won't tell you that i'm a smartass because i wanna impress you with my blocking skills. i'm so cool and so tall."

tsukishima hates how hinata mimics him. he bites back. "oh, i'm hinata. i'm so small."

much to his dismay, even sugawara had joined in. "you could tell her that, you know, i'm so tired. but i'm drinking water so that's good enough for me already."

he responds with respect, though dripping his annoyance. "sugawara-san, please don't mimic me."

his phone vibrates again, and everyone else leans in to look. tsukishima snarls and moves away from them, clutching his dear phone to his chest.

you. any chance we could drink later? 3:27pm

you. not alcohol, of course. just milk or juice, or a shake, even yogurt. although, we can't drink yogurt... 3:27pm

tsukishima feels yamaguchi peer over his shoulder, and he knows its him because of that distinct smell of his. he doesn't hide the phone away even when yamaguchi says: "she's asking you out! go!"

"calm down, yamaguchi."

he shakily types his response.

tsukishima. Sure. By the store again? 3:27pm

three dots, he's awaiting for your response.

you. okay! see you there :) 3:28pm

🏐 —

his practice ends at 7 on the dot. tsukishima has never left faster in his life.

though he was always the first to leave, bidding them goodbye before walking his way home. this was different– his goodbye bore that sense of urgency with a twinge of excitement as he clumsily slipped his regular shoes on, walking as fast as he could away from the school campus.

coach ukai had actually offered that they go back to the store together, but tsukishima was in a rush.

it was an eight minute walk to the store. he got there in five.

you were no longer wearing your school uniform. you had your hands at your sides, rocking back in forth from the heels of your feet, your headphones bobbing along with your head as you listened to your song. tsukishima wonders how he would approach you.

a tap on the shoulder? yell your name? appear in front of you? should he turn you around violently and smile awkwardly? should he–

"tsukishima-san!"

he didn't realize that he had spaced out, blinking. you approach tsukishima as you discard your headphones to hang them around your neck, stopping just a few friendly feet from him.

"how was practice?" you pip. "you look exhausted."

tsukishima reddens. "i'm alright. same practice anyway," he rubs the back of his neck. "should we go inside? i'm thirsty."

he hopes he doesn't sound too demanding. but you reacted normally, gave him a pretty smile, and led your way towards the store.

coach ukai's mother sat behind the counter, sporting the same cigarette in her mouth, a garbled greeting escaping her without bothering to look up as she read her newspaper. you and tsukishima find your way to the back where the drinks are.

he opens the door for you, the appliance bulb casting a white glow over your face as you bent and searched for what drink made your veins twitch with excitement.

"by the way, you know yachi hitoka?" you balance your hands on your knees, looking up at him. "she's your manager right? i'm in her class!"

"really?" he queries, swallowing thickly. "you're really smart, then. it's one of the higher classes."

"i try," you shrug shyly, looking back at the selection of drinks. "anyway, i asked her about you. she said that you were a middle blocker, 6 foot something, and that she liked your friend yamaguchi? i don't know, she said it then she denied it."

"oh, she likes him alright," he chuckles. "he walks her home every night."

"really?!" you pick up two cans of coke and clutch them to your chest, standing upwards. tsukishima shyly reaches for another strawberry drink. "i'm mad at her for not telling me that."

you make your way to the front with tsukishima following behind you. you place the contents on the counter, the woman behind muttering something you can't discern as she scanned your orders.

"are you allowed to stay out a little longer?" you ask him, the soft beeps of the drinks grazing his ears. he shrugs again, reaching for his wallet.

"yeah, sure. do you want to do something?" he places the payment on the counter before you were able to take your own cash out. you pout.

"i was going to pay for mine."

"it's alright. it wasn't that expensive, anyway." he smiles a little at you. and it was the first time tsukishima had ever smiled kindly at anyone, except yamaguchi, his mom, and akiteru. "you were saying?"

you pop open your can. "i found this really nice spot where you can stargaze. and, honestly, i'm bored and tomorrow's the weekend. i would have invited you to do this tomorrow, but we're here now!"

he laughs through his nose. "i'm free anytime."

when you both approach the exit, coach ukai and the team stand by the open doors. tsukishima stops on his tracks, his mouth parted the slighest as you tip your head back to drink your soda. when your head comes back in place, your eyes settle on the crowd upon you.

"oh, hello ukai-san!"

tsukishima looks at you through his peripherals before darting his eyes back front. they all snicker, eyes widened at the sight in front of them— cold, narcissistic, mean tsukishima kei, with probably the nicest girl in all of karasuno. yachi waves at you.

"is that why you were rushing to get out, tsukishima?" ukai teases, a cigarette hanging loosely off his lips. "i see you've met my number 1 customer."

he blushes when he's exposed, and he ignores the way you give him a surprised glance.

"so you must be the girl he was texting earlier," tanaka approaches you, offers his hand. "forgive him. he sounds lame when he texts, but trust me if you saw his face he looked like–"

"tanaka-san." tsukishima almost pleads.

while shaking his hand, yachi approaches you with yamaguchi behind her. "this is why you asked me about him!"

"shut up, yachi."

tsukishima could die right then and there. melt into a puddle of sweat and embarrassment. there were words exchanged between you and his ever loving team, the heat on his face becoming hotter and hotter at every second.

he wishes he could leave now.

by the time hinata begins to ask you a question about tsukishima's attitude, he sighs loudly. "excuse us, but we have to head out now."

you look at him again. "we do?"

"yes, we do," he looks down at you. "you told me, remember?"

you smile at him, recollecting your invitation. "oh, yes! we should get going."

you offer your goodbyes to the curious group. tsukishima wallows in discomfort, walking away with his shoulders slightly slumped and a hand in his pocket.

"i like them," you tell him, drinking your coke. "they're nice."

"they're really not," he takes a sip of his drink. "if you hung out with them, you'd be just as annoyed as i was."

his "joke" makes you laugh. first he thinks what could be so funny about his comment, then he realizes you don't actually know that he wasn't joking. the thought makes him swoon just a little.

"so why stargazing?" his and your feet are synchronized, stepping on the uneven cobblestone to the destination that tsukishima still doesn't know. your shoulder is closed to his when you walk; he resists the urge to put his hand out so that they'd graze your fingers, feeling the heat rub on his calloused skin.

"yesterday, when you walked home, i looked back and saw you look up at the sky," you reply. "and i realized that "oh, he stargazes too!" so i decided to bring you to my spot."

"your spot?" you hum in agreement. "why?"

"because it's nice to share the feeling of looking up at beautiful stars." you throw your now empty can onto a nearby bin, opening your second one. "i figured maybe you might feel the same way i do."

if it was admiration then yes, he felt the same way you did.

🏐 —

tsukishima realizes the walk was 10 minutes away from his home. now you're both standing at a hill where you can see all the houses nearby and karasuno at the other side.

you sit down on the ground, he copies you. his bottom sits on the soft soil, his fingers prickled by the grass, and the cold smell of the meadow enters his nostrils.

he thinks that everything is happening a little too fast – he had only met you yesterday, exchanged emails earlier, went out to buy drinks, and now you're both sitting at a hill stargazing like it's a date. your optimism and kindness shakes him a little, leaving him with an unknown thought of what he could possibly do as of this moment.

yet he's still here, watching you gaze at the stars, the sheer glow of the moon kissing your cheeks, the stars reflecting off the mosaic of your eyes. you're radiating this cordial heat that wraps around his right arm that rests just millimeters away from you.

"told you it's pretty," you beam, lips parted, never sparing him a glance. "you see that? that's cassiopea right there."

you point to the sky and squint, and it's only then tsukishima takes his eyes off you and follow the direction of your fingerprint.

you trace the invisible strings that connect each star to one another. blearily, his imagination turns those strings into silver. tsukishima draws nearer towards you, his shoulder now bumping yours, his pinkie grazing the skin of your finger.

"andromeda isn't here yet. but it's the one i've been waiting for the most," you turn your head to look at him.

tsukishima's breath hitches when he realizes that he may have underestimated how close the proximity he had created was, your breath fanning his face. he senses your surprise, the way the bottom of your eyes twitch lightly and your nose scrunches a little.

"i figure maybe they arive in a few weeks," he murmurs. he can sense your surprise and says: "you're not the only one who knows about stars."

"yeah? figured you were more into dinosaurs."

"that's true," he sniffles, you giggle. "when i was a kid i thought that the stars were the ones who killed the dinosaurs. so every night, when i see them, i would always cry 'cause i thought that they might fall here and kill us all."

"pessimist, huh?" when your head tilts up, your chin bumps his shoulder. "anything else i should know about you?"

"there's one thing i want to tell you but i've been making it plainly obvious."

"you have a knack for strawberries."

"yes," he smiles a little, the whites of his teeth appearing between his thin lips. "i like music."

"so do i."

"yeah? what genre?"

"...anri..."

"really?" tsukishima's eyes brighten, maybe even brighter than the stars. "i like her music."

"i thought you were kind of a japanese rock kind of guy."

"i can be many things," you look back up to the sky, your eyes darting between each individual star like you're tracing another constellation. tsukishima's tracing the features of your face like it was his constellation.

"yachi says you're mean, but in a way that brings up the team's drive to play harder," you say into the wind. "please don't be mean to me. i cry easily."

tsukishima wonders if he can even smile more than he is now. "i'll try my best. you're giving me a lot of reasons to be mean right now."

"but you're not being mean to me right now," you poke his glasses and shove them to his face, hurting the bridge of his nose. albeit tsukishima doesn't mutter a single complaint. "you're just being dorky."

"i am not!" he balances his body with one hand behind him, the other tugging on the end of your hair.

"now you're just being childish!"

your laugh beats out all the songs he had to search for to complete every single of his playlists. it was as soft as silk, as dulcet as violins; it was something he'd play on repeat when it played on his headphones. and your sweet laughed matched the way your face became even more beautiful.

tsukishima feels his heart beat a little bit faster.

a star explodes. supernova.

he no longer feels wearied from practice, his body languid from comfort in your presence. and just like last night, he was happy his day ended with something that lacked the usual bothersome feeling in his chest, but something that decompressed every constraint muscle in his body and think of something else that made the corner of his lips smile and his heart elated.

that's why when he went back home, when his mother and akiteru (who was visiting) were dead asleep, he silently descended to his room with a smile on his face, brushed his teeth with the sound of your laugh echoing in his ears, changed his clothes with your scent somehow lingering, and went to be thinking about you.

🏐 —

the past few weeks were more eventful than the days he had to train for the inter-high preliminaries.

the more he saw you, the more he felt himself unwinding like a diurnal motion, every trust and rigor travelling through his veins whenever your aura touched his opalescent skin.

you were the succor to his weary bones. you were the happiness that he never truly found in others. you were the light brighter than the stars could ever give him in the dark.

secrets were passed the way notes would in classes.

you got a sweet tooth? what dessert do you like?

strawberry shortcake, tsukishima said. no regrets, no embarrassment. pure adoration.

did you know that velociraptors aren't actually that big?

yeah? how'd you know that, tsukishima?

it's called reading, he'd roll his eyes. you're in the highest class and you don't read?

his retorts were never used to add insult to injury. that's what he liked about you– you knew when he was serious and when he wasn't despite the fact that tsukishima believed that he was hard to read. it seemed like you were able to read him better than yamaguchi has.

his heart aches at the thought. the ache, painful but so good, but something that he could not discern the true intention.

but he could never let you in him. never in his life.

you. saw a frog and it looked like you. loser. 12:51pm

you and tsukishima had exchanged countless of texts that contained topics that he never expected himself to be indulging in. that familiar ding! of his phone reminded him of you already, because you'd been the only one who constantly texted him more than yamaguchi has.

(also because, well, he set up a different tone for you.)

tsukishima sees your name pop up in a rectangular notification on his screen. he opens it with sweaty hands and a towel over his head, his thumbs typing out a snarky reply.

tsukishima. How could a frog look like me, (y/n)? That's dumb. 12:51pm

he ruffles his towel over his damp curls, the sweat on his temples being sucked into the cloth. he watches the three bubbles appear on your side and you say:

you. because i said so. look! 12:52pm

the attached image looked far from what tsukishima looks like. it was a regular frog, beside a pond, with no thoughts. he rolls his eyes.

tsukishima. I don't see it. 12:53pm

you. thats because youre not LOOKING. do u see his eyes? literally you. i think its the mouth, haha 12:54pm

he laughs either way despite not having seen any similarities. but laughing seemed to be a mistake, as he forgot where he was at the moment.

"quit laughing, tsukishima. you'll slack off," kageyama taunts from afar, face etched into an arrogant smirk. yamaguchi approaches him, peeking over tsukishima's shoulder to snoop on the conversation.

"are you worried i'll ruin your game, king?" tsukishima rubs the back of his neck, tilting his chin upwards. "my apologies."

you send him another text: omw there to see u :p 12:59pm

the latter's growl was overpowered by yamaguchi's hum of interest. "tsukki, that frog does look like you."

"yamaguchi, how nosy are you?"

"nosy enough to ask when will you tell her that you like her?"

tsukishima's eyebrows furrow. he did not like you. during those weeks, the both of you did more than just exchange texts in any time of day– often you'd meet after classes and buy a drink when he didn't have practice; sometimes you'd wait for him until seven in the evening so you'd both go up the hill again and talk mindlessly about things that tickled your brains.

in those few weeks, he had learned more about himself than he ever had with anyone else.

and he feels, though never actually given any attention to, that his days ended with a smile on his face rather than feeling boredom creeping up his shoulder like a grim reaper would on a dying soul.

instead, it felt like he was resurrected; tsukishima felt like a shooting star falling through evening, the fire pulsing through his veins as he fell. with you, he felt like everything else had color, that everything else made sense.

his life became brighter that it seemed like hinata's hair was actually on fire from the bright orange hues.

so no, he did not like you.

"i don't like her." he wipes the sweat that dripped onto his glasses. "don't be ridiculous."

"yesterday, when you were eating, you kept talking about how this (y/n) girl told you how the dinosaurs from jurassic park were created. and all of us were talking about one piece."

"so? it's way more interesting."

"but not her?"

"yamaguchi," he bemoans. "nothing is interesting about her."

that lie. that sickeningly, macabre, heartbreaking lie that it even hurt him to say it. tsukishima also doesn't understand why yamaguchi has a horrified face plastered on him, but he realizes he wasn't looking at his friend, and was looking behind him.

he whips his head around.

the tips of your shoes had mud on them from the dampened soil. your umbrella hung loosely around your wrist and dripped on the ground. your fingers clasped around a small contained with what seemed to be strawberry shortcaked that looked delectable enough to make his stomach hurt. and your chest heaved from what he assumed was the aftermath of rapid walking.

despite the sight that had made his head spin, the affliction that twitched from your frowning lips and the gloss that made your eyes shine from dejection had turned the situation into something so monotone he feels like his soul had just left life.

a star dies in the middle of the galaxy.

tsukishima thinks the regret plastered on his face may be seen. he hopes that it is.

the sound of squeaking shoes and ricocheting balls continue, but the ringing of his ears are louder. you swallow thickly, shuffling on your feet, and approach him hesitantly like he'd burn you if you were near him.

"i brought you this because you looked so pale yesterday after you practiced," you say softly, though he could hear the pain in your tone. tsukishima takes the container from your reaching hand, and swears he sees your breath hitch when his fingers graze yours.

"thank you–"

"see you around, tsukishima," you bow, before you hurriedly leave the gymnasium.

it felt like the room was shrinking rapidly on him, his muscles pressing in on his body in a suffocating manner. yamaguchi puts his hand on tsukishima's shoulder, leaning down to check in on his distraught friend.

"tsukki," his eyebrows are raised in concern, voice loud enough to snap tsukishima out of his pity daze but low enough that everybody else remained distracted. "hey..."

"i'm fine," he looks up at him. "it's nothing. i'm- i'm fine. let's just go back to practice."

his fists clench when he shoves the cake into his bag and walks back into the court. his blocks are futile when he thinks of your eyes. his serves hit the net when he thinks of the frown pasted on your lips. and he feels himself at the bottom of the game when another star dies.

he just doesn't know if it was his or yours. could a heart break two times?

🏐 –

tsukishima had a crisp trepidation towards the true veneer of love.

he believes he was too young for that, that he was in a stage where he would have this deep passion for things that were alive albeit something that he can't touch nor interconnect with– hense is unfathomable love for dinosaurs, stars, and strawberry shortcake.

so whatever it is that he was feeling for you – he doesn't know if it's love. tsukishima feels like he could die if he didn't see you for a single day; his feet and his body restless up until you both meet after practice.

tsukishima is even more restless now.

there wasn't a single text from you since 12:59 in the afternoon.

there was almost a hundred texts from tsukishima since 3:00pm, the time he had excused himself early from his practice.

he lays on his bed, his headphones on but no music. he wasn't in the mood to put himself up in brighter spirits. his back rests uncomfortably on the thick mattress, his curls splayed across his pillow, a hand on his chest and a hand holding a fork, his feet spread apart.

and the strawberry shortcake you gave him rests on his chest, half eaten, his mouth chewing sadly on the sweet delicacy.

"do you think stars have thoughts?" you asked. tsukishima found this beguiling and preposterous simultaneously, however the curiosity that happened to lift his lips into a dazed smile made him release a teasing retort:

"you certainly don't."

you threw a grape at him. he caught it with an open mouth. the sun was about to set, but the warmth was enough to prevent the both of you from shivering idiotically on the hill at the cold breeze. "i'm approaching an epiphany, asshole."

your vulgarity made him smile more. "celestial bodies, more specifically stars, do not have thoughts. but they're alive, and they function into a cycle."

"unorthodox minds like mine go out of the box," you rolled your eyes. "sorry, i'll put it in simpler terms so you could understand. i have a very creative mind."

"oh yeah?" tsukishima tilted his head sideways to present his interest. "and what'd you mean by that?"

"you know how stars die and create themselves?" you queried. "it's like how phoenixes rise from the ashes as they're reborn. but when a star resurrects, they're called "zombie stars," right?"

"yeah."

"and i'm not saying that they have a mind of their own, but if you were to input your own thoughts into a star, then yeah, it's like they resurrect themselves to live on with life over and over again, and don't you think that's exhausting? they're like dead stars, and they still shine brightly, and it's ironic, right? because something that has been dead billions of years ago still shine. it has a meaning into it that people just... completely ignore."

"so an analogy?" his eyebrow raised.

"yeah, something like that," you licked your lips. "when you see a bright star, and you don't know if it's a dead star. but imagine stargazing and finding love in something that has been dead long ago."

tsukishima's body softened. "uhuh."

"but what if you keep loving that star? and that star just receives so much of that love that they're able to resurrect themselves. well, obviously loving a star isn't actually gonna bring it back to life because there's a separate scientific explanation for that, but i'm saying that– that if you love something, or someone, hard enough that you're able to bring light into their lives, then that's possible.

and they take all that love for the benefit of their life and... they burst into something beautiful called supernovas."

tsukishima stared at you, his gaze ever so adoringly. "and what's the point of this epiphany of yours?"

"that loving someone that has been gone inside their body is possible to save them and bring them back to life to turn them into someone even more beautiful."

tsukishima sits back up, a whiplash from the quick commotion.

it was already night when his thin curtains were tainted black from the dark glow of the evening.

he pushes himself off his bed, slip his way out of his home and clumsily puts his shoes on to find you.

and he knows exactly where you are.

so it's no surprise when he sees you all alone, laying down on the meadow of the hill, blooming flowers grazing your cheeks in any way the wind blows. tsukishima stands and stares at you longingly, his fingers twitching beside him.

"(y/n)."

he says your name like an oath to the stars. you sit up, hearing his voice, cheeks dry with tears melting onto your skin. tsukishima's heart breaks the slightest when he brings himself up the hill.

"what are you doing here?" you ask him, voice so small he'd think you were whispering.

to his surprise, tsukishima falls onto his knees in front of you. he finds it endearing that despite the reduce of his height, you still look up at him. then he takes your hands into his, his thumbs tracing every ridge of your knuckles, looking deep into your eyes.

"i didn't mean what i said." he declares like he was under jurisdiction of the judge. "you are–... the most interesting woman in the world. the most beguiling, the most entrusting, the most beautiful."

your eyebrows furrow, hands shaking in his grasp. "what are you saying?"

"that i'm an asshole." he admits. "you are so interesting that every epiphany of yours pulls me back on the ground and into you. that epiphany you had about dead stars that resurrect themselves from getting so much love? shit, (y/n), that may be me."

you let out a tiny gasp, maybe a breath of reliefz his face is so close to yours, his knees in between your legs, bumping the side of your thighs. "what?"

"i–... i don't know if you love me. you don't have to. but you've made my days brighter and gave my life meaning that i felt like i was resurrected. like all the pieces in me were brought back together. and everything else just felt... alive."

finally, you smile. just a little, but it was enough to make the grass greener and the color of your shirt turn pastel, your eyes vibrant in the night. "yeah?"

"yeah," he laughs, idiotically he may add. "i like you. i like you so much. i like you more than i like dinosaurs."

you guffaw, throwing your head back, hands never letting go.

a star resurrects. a supernova explodes.

"i like you more," you say, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

it was enough for him to jump on you to press his lips on your awaiting mouth, gently pressing you down on the grass, his hand on the back of your head to soften the blow as he settles himself in between your legs.

his mouth, sweet with strawberries and ardor, his hair soft like flowers when your fingers tangle on the golden locks, his glasses pressing against the space between your eyebrows and the bridge of your nose, his tongue that hovers respectfully on top of your bottom lip.

innocent, lips full of solicitude, he kisses you deeper and with care, his head tilting to open his mouth the slightest so that he could get closer to you. the small sound that emits from your mouth makes him pull back and smile shyly.

his eyes had the galaxies reflected off his eyes that it made space seem like they were golden from his irises. you take his glasses off, placing them beside you, and let your hands rest on his face; tucking his hair behind his ear as you do so.

and above your intertwined bodies, andromeda swims across the stygian night sky, traced by invisible strings. just as tsukishima predicted.

tsukishima could stare at you for the rest of his life.

tsukishima loved four things: dinosaurs, strawberry shortcake, stars, and most especially:

you.

reblogs and feedback are appreciated!

[parkerslatte]

At Last

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: mentions of scars. mentions of mild torture. injury.

Summary: Y/N reunites with Azriel after she comes back from Under the Mountain and finish a long overdue conversation.

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

•••

50 Years Ago

“Y/N, can we talk?” Azriel’s voice was strangely quiet and uneasy as he stood in the doorway, shadows restlessly moving around his frame.

Turning away from the mirror, Y/N greeted Azriel with a smile. “Of course. I’m just finishing up here. I can’t decide which earrings to wear tonight.”

“The diamond ones bring out your eyes,” Azriel said as he stepped into the room. “How long do you have?”

“I’m not sure,” Y/N said, fastening the diamond earrings to her ears. “Rhys said he’d collect me when we need to leave.”

“Right,” Azriel mumbled before looking at the dress that adorned her body. “You look beautiful.”

Y/N walked over to Azriel and placed a quick kiss on his cheek, causing a faint blush to dust his cheeks. “Thank you, Az. So what did you wish to talk about?”

Azriel slowly sat on the edge of the bed, his heart beating rapidly. “Well, I—“

Another knock at the bedroom door caught Azriel’s attention. Rhys stood there. “Y/N, we’re leaving.”

Y/N nodded as Rhys left to wait for her outside. She turned to Azriel.

“What did you want to say?” Y/N asked.

Azriel looked down at his hands. “It doesn’t matter anymore. You should leave with Rhys, you don’t want to be late.”

“No, it’s okay. Tell me now,” Y/N insisted.

“It will take too long,” Azriel said. “I will tell you when you return.”

Y/N sighed. “Fine. But it will be the very moment my feet step back in this room.”

Azriel smiled. It was small but it was there. “I promise I will tell you then.”

Y/N smiled. “I’ll see you later, Az.”

“See you later,” Azriel said.

Y/N wrapped her arms around Azriel’s shoulders and he melted into her touch. He hugged her back tightly, inhaling the scent he loved so much. If she would allow it, Azriel would pull her back into her bed and hold her to him for all of eternity. All he wanted was to be wrapped in her arms.

When Y/N pulled away, Azriel reluctantly let go and stood from the bed. She bid him goodbye and left him standing within her empty bedroom.

The bedroom would remain empty for fifty years.

Present day

Once again Azriel felt himself walking past the empty room of the female he loved more than anything else alive. It was nearly thirty years ago when Cassian finally convinced Azriel to leave her room after he slept in it night after night, praying for her to return to him. Her scent was slowly replaced with his own.

It had been years since Azriel had stepped into the room. He had gone as far as opening the door but he couldn’t bring himself to step inside anymore. He always stared at the bed where Azriel sat when he was about to confess his feelings. If only he had told her then. Perhaps he would have delayed both Y/N and Rhys enough for them to decide to stay home. Then they would both be with him, Cassian, Mor and Amren.

Azriel sighed and rubbed his eyes. As he did so, his hand caught onto the earring hanging from his ear. It was Y/N’s earring, the very ones she had taken off before she put the diamond ones in. Azriel’s ears weren’t even pierced when she was trapped, but when he could finally leave her room without tears falling down his face, he had asked Mor to pierce them for him.

Azriel touched the earring fondly and slowly inhaled.

He frowned.

That familiar scent. The scent he loved. It wafted from the room.

Azriel hadn’t smelt the scent ever since it faded from Y/N’s belongings.

With shaking hands, Azriel reached to touch the door handle and slowly pushed down. The cream emitting from it echoed down the empty hall. His heart pounded in his chest as his hope rose.

Light filtered into the hall and cast over Azriel’s face. He squinted, allowing his eyes to adjust to the intrusion. He let go of the door and allowed it to slowly open on its own until he was illuminated by light.

A figure stood in the middle of the room, arms wrapped around themselves as they stared out of the window.

Azriel’s heart stopped.

“Y/N?” His voice was small and quiet, he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

Y/N turned and faced Azriel. Her hair was longer and knotted as if she hadn’t styled it in weeks. There was bruises and cuts in her arms and scars wrapping around her wrists as if shackles had been there once upon a time.

Azriel took a step forward.

“Please say something if it is really you, Y/N,” Azriel whispered. “I can’t trust my own eyes at this point.”

“Az,” Y/N sobbed as tears immediately began to fall down her cheeks. “It’s really me.”

Azriel didn’t take a single moment to linger. He rushed forward and wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his head into the crook of her neck. She was solid in his arms.

“I missed you so much,” Azriel cried, allowing his tears to fall.

“I missed you too,” Y/N sobbed, clutching onto Azriel even tighter.

The feeling of her in his arms was one Azriel hadn’t felt in fifty years yet it was one he remembered in all of those lonely nights where all he could think about was Y/N.

“How are you here?” Azriel asked, gently caressing Y/N’s face as he looked at her. “Is Rhys here too?”

Y/N nodded, holding onto Azriel’s shirt tightly. “A human called Feyre helped us. She saved us all.”

Azriel wiped her tears away and rested his forehead against hers. “I can’t believe you're here. What happened?”

“Amarantha,” Y/N spat. “I’m glad that devil is dead. She kept me chained up for the first five years.”

Azriel glanced at the scars wrapping around Y/N’s wrists. He pressed a gentle kiss against them.

“She doused my food in faebane so I wouldn’t heal properly,” Y/N said.

Azriel hugged her once more. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you.”

He felt Y/N shake her head. “I am glad you weren’t. You were safe here. You were protecting everything and everyone in the city by being here.”

“When Rhys sent that message, I was ready to follow. I was ready to march in and slaughter Amarantha myself,” Azriel confessed. “I would have done anything to get you back.”

“And Rhys,” Y/N added.

“And Rhys,” Azriel confirmed.

Y/N pulled back and studied Azriel’s face. “I was beginning to forget what you looked like. You became just a blur in my mind for the past few years.”

A single tear slipped down Azriel’s cheek and Y/N wiped it away.

“I never thought I would see you again,” Y/N continued. “The first couple of years I was expecting to leave, that someone would find a way. But then more years passed and nothing happened. More and more years passed and it was the same thing day in day out. But do you know what kept me going, Azriel? Do you know what kept me wanting to live when everything got too difficult? When Amarantha decided that I was taking up too much space and decided to beat me?”

Azriel shook his head.

A small smile tugged at Y/N’s lips. “It was you. I thought of your smile, your laugh when you think no one is listening. Your touch, your scent, your feel. I always thought about you and that conversation we never got to have. It has been on my mind for half a century. I have wondered what you wanted to talk about that night.”

“Well,” Azriel said. “We are in the room where I promised to tell you.”

Y/N rested her forehead against Azriel’s. “Then tell me. Tell me the answer to the question I never got an answer to.”

There was a small pause as Azriel laced his fingers with Y/N’s.

“That night was the night I finally found the courage to do something I was scared to do for a long time,” Azriel said. “I was scared of messing things up and the way you would react. I didn’t want to ruin whatever relationship I had with you. But it got too painful not to tell you. Seeing you everyday, looking so beautiful, it was going to slip out eventually.”

“What are you saying, Azriel?” Y/N asked.

“I am saying that I am in love with you,” Azriel confessed. “I am utterly in love with you, Y/N. I have been for centuries. These past fifty years have been torture without you.”

Y/N didn’t answer as she stared down at their linked hands. Azriel’s heart sank. .

“Listen, if you don’t return my feelings, I am not going to force you, but I need you to know. I couldn’t keep it a secret any longer,” Azriel said. “If you don’t love me, I understand. We can both move on with our lives.”

If she didn’t return his feelings, Azriel knew that he would never be able to move on. He loved her too much and he knew that it would be unfair to anyone else he fell into a bed with.

“Azriel, it’s been fifty years,” Y/N said. “And you still love me?”

Azriel nodded. “I do. My feelings have never changed or wavered even a little. I slept in your room for twenty years after you were trapped. I was a mess. I didn’t keep up with any of my duties or training. Ask Cassian, Mor or Amren.”

“You love me?” Y/N asked.

“I do,” Azriel confirmed. “You are the love of my life even if I am not the love of yours.”

Y/N slowly slipped her hands out of Azriel’s and his heart plummeted to his feet, but the moment she caressed his face, he felt it spring back up.

“You love me,” Y/N said. This time it was phrased less like a question and more like a statement. “That was what you wanted to tell me when we were in this room fifty years ago?”

Azriel nodded. He couldn’t get words out as they were caught on his tongue.

A small smile graced Y/N’s face. “I see Rhys’s prediction was correct.”

“Prediction?” Azriel questioned.

“Thirty years in, Rhys asked me about what you and I were talking about. We never saw each other much, Amarantha kept Rhys all to herself most of the time and me chained up. There was a night where I was finding everything too different and Rhys found me. He asked me about the night we left and what we were talking about. When I told him you never got to tell me, we made a small game out of it. We would guess ridiculous things as to what you wished to speak with me about. It was the only form of entertainment we had. Although now I guess not all of Rhys’s guesses were a complete joke,” Y/N explained.

“When Rhys said that you were coming to confess your undying love to me, I laughed. Because I thought that there was no way that you would be in love with me. I was so in denial that you love me back that I didn’t even consider that Rhys was correct. I thought you coming to tell me that you were somehow pregnant as a more plausible theory,” Y/N said, avoiding eye contact.

While Y/N’s right hand remained on the side of his face, she trailed her left down to link their fingers together. Azriel caressed the hand that rested on his head, pressing a soft kiss to her palm.

“I love you too, Azriel,” Y/N admitted. “It was my love for you that kept me fighting every day. Fighting to someday return to you.”

Azriel closed his eyes, savouring her touch, afraid that somehow he would wake up alone in his cold bed.

Another tear fell down his face but nothing compared to Y/N who was freely crying now.

“I love you so much, Y/N,” Azriel cried.

A sob slipped past Y/N’s lips and Azriel pulled her into him, wrapping his wings around them both, cocooning them in their own small world. His shadows softly caressed her skin and where scars littered themself on her soft flesh.

“I can’t believe I’m free,” Y/N sobbed. “I can’t believe I’m here with you.”

Azriel’s fingers tangled in her hair as he let her cry into his chest. He held her so tightly, so securely that if anything tried to take her again, Azriel would make sure that it never happened— and it never will happen again.

“Can you do something for me?” Y/N asked.

“Anything,” Azriel muttered.

“Can you kiss me?” Y/N said. “I’ve only been able to dream about what it would feel like.”

Azriel offered her a soft smile. “Anything else you want me to do.”

“Stay with me,” Y/N said. “Stay with me and never let me go.”

“My love,” Azriel said, cupping her face between his hands. “I will stay with you for eternity. I will love you for eternity. You don’t need to ask.”

Y/N smiled widely, cutting through her grief and sadness like a knife. Azriel smiled in return, offering her one of his true, genuine smiles specifically reserved for her.

As he leaned forward to connect their lips, that golden thread that connected two souls snapped into place.

[tojisun]

it takes a rampage (to be a dad)

!! fluff & angst; simon’s pov; simon’s insecurities; vague descriptions of violence; repeating allusions to past child abuse; parenthood; f!reader // wc: 3.5k // dividers by @/plutism!

a spinoff of the apple that rolled over to the tree

simon’s not a good man, but he concedes that there are just certain circumstances where you have to be the good man. where you have to bleed and burn through, and sacrifice a shit ton because that’s what being good is.

case in point: the child, who couldn’t be any more than two, bundled in his arms as the squad tries to come down from the adrenaline after a dangerously high-tension exfil.

“where,” johnny pauses, breathing deeply, quick fingers unlatching any tight strapping that’s making it difficult to gulp in air. “where ye dumpin’ the brat?”

it’s callously said, but they all know johnny’s meant it in a place of worry—which is founded, by all accounts, because the base is a terrible place to care for a two year old toddler. no one’s even equipped to deal with the boy, not with the mission still on its last legs; granted, the winding dregs would only require their captain, maybe garrick for backup, to finish but nothing is ever certain.

but—

the boy shifts on his lap, big brown eyes staring up at simon with unfathomable trust. like the sight of his mask, and weapons, and even having seen him in action—poised guns and clean shots on the head; unfazed eyes scanning the explosion of brain matter spilling he’s caused—was not petrifying.

simon knows what they say about ghost—the living boogeyman; the harbinger of death and destruction. and yet here the little boy is, looking up at him like simon isn’t anything other than man; like simon is something so human.

simon thinks about his place back home that’s dancing close to the outskirts of the city; he thinks about its picket fence and its brick walls and its big backyard.

he thinks about its love, forged from the softest hands that simon’s ever held; from the hands of the only one that simon’s ever loved.

“i’m bringin’ ‘im ‘ome.”

.

laswell was kind enough to pull some strings so that the boy has whatever legal documents he needed so simon can bring him back safely—passport, citizenship papers… adoption documents.

jacob emory riley. (yakov in russian. yasha.) he’s simon’s ward now. his son.

(laswell had congratulated him with crinkled eyes and the softest of smiles; it might just be the first simon’s ever seen her look so at peace.

somehow, it was that brief talk with laswell that made everything feel tangibly raw; simon realized that things got too real too fast, and that he found himself almost wanting to reverse everything he’d done so far because what if he wouldn’t be a good guardian to the child? what if simon’s too broken for the child? what if—

his thoughts stuttered, quaking until they reach a tentative halt because the boy closed his little fist around the entirety of simon’s finger. he was so small, like that, and still so blindingly trusting even with all the littering scars on his little arms and little legs. he held onto simon so fiercely, he didn’t even notice the turmoil in simon’s heart. or how simon had almost given him away in an act of his cowardice because simon is a coward. especially with this.

but jacob—

but yasha held him, chose him, and the storm raging in his head died down, petering into a quiet chill until simon could bite out a weak but not any less genuine, “thank you,” to laswell.

laswell stared at him, all-knowing as always, before bidding him and yasha a sweet goodbye.)

the boy responds better with the diminutive, all giggly and grabby hands as he toddles over simon. the rest of the squad had eased into their roles, battle-worn bodies turning into the softest cushions with yasha in their arms. he is a shy little thing, hiding behind simon’s leg whenever price would come visit, or refusing to be put down from simon’s arms or even make eye contact with mactavish when it’s his turn to babysit.

garrick was a different story altogether. yasha had looked at him once, studying with such inquisitive curiosity, before deeming his sergeant the safest after simon. he’d grumbled and cooed and begged for uppies—garrick had been all too pleased to give it to him.

which is why saying goodbye now is difficult.

yasha would not stop crying, pale face all blotchy and snotty as he wails, chubby arms thrashing, trying to reach for kyle, but the sergeant and their captain are already suited for the mission, ready to leave the moment simon and johnny and little yasha do.

“ky! ky!” he cries out, unable to fully say kyle’s name but trying so desperately because his grief is so much bigger than himself.

simon bounces him on his hip, trying to calm the little tyke down, but shrill wails pierce their ears, unstoppable, and he wonders if it was too cruel to have made him say goodbye to kyle and price. simon heard from the medic that it was healthy for children to cry, but yasha sobs like he is grieving, and simon can’t fault him—this is his first, and hopefully his last for a long while, experience of abandonment. sure, they’ve all told him that kyle would just be gone for a while, but yasha is a child, unable to reconcile such reality where his uncle isn’t flying home with him.

(they didn’t mention the fragility of their lives in their line of work; how, every time they suit up, there are chances that they’ll never return. yasha is too young for such reality.

‘sides, kyle promised to come back. so he has to.)

kyle is teary-eyed, so is mactavish, and simon presses his sorry’s and his reassurances on yasha’s inky black hair, while kyle makes a vow once more.

“don’t worry, son,” their captain croons, his face creased in the softest it has ever been. “i promise i’ll bring your uncle back in one piece.”

yasha sniffles, watery brown eyes not looking away. then, “o’ay.” he lifts an arm up, waving it cautiously. “buh-bye?”

“yeah, bubsy,” their captain replies because no one can, not kyle who is crying nor simon who can’t lift his face up from where he’s breathing in his son’s baby smell. “bye bye.”

“buh-bye,” yasha repeats, still quiet but more sure. “ky? buh-bye?”

kyle chuckles wetly. he steps forward and pinches yasha’s cheek. “bye bye, little man. see you in two weeks, okay?”

yasha hums, having grown exhausted from his emotional outburst. the base shrink said that’s normal for children; that it’s good when they’re emotional, it’s healthy, so simon bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from fussing.

instead, as a distraction, he nods at his captain and his sergeant, and he and mactavish turn to leave.

“daddy?” the little tyke asks.

“yeah?” simon replies, turning his full attention to yasha.

“buh-bye?”

“oh, son no,” simon murmurs. “daddy’s always goin’ t’be with you.”

yasha nods, and flops back down on simon’s chest, satisfied.

.

the flight was tedious, sprinkle the listless child with that, and it was just about draining. he couldn’t thank johnny enough for being with him throughout because being an uncle to tommy’s kids didn’t teach simon much about this—cranky and emotional two year-old’s, and their complicated tastebuds that almost made it impossible to feed them aeroplane food, and their odd sleeping patterns.

but as simon shoots yasha a glance, watching the boy sleep peacefully finally, he thinks to himself how it’s all so worth it.

.

johnny doesn’t follow them to prestwich, crashing instead somewhere in stratford before making his way back to dundee. yasha hadn’t cried as hard for johnny as he did when he said goodbye to kyle, but he’d been teary-eyed even when he refused to be given to his sergeant’s waiting arms. still, simon’s boy had been solemn and gave mactavish a weak wave.

simon tells yasha that johnny would come back in two weeks’ time too, with the captain and garrick, before trailing off when he realized he doesn’t know how to tell yasha exactly why johnny was giving them space.

shit, he hadn’t even thought about how yasha would react when—

the house appears past barren trees, and simon’s lungs constrict in one full swoop. god, he’s missed this place, very much so.

pinpricks fill the back of his eyes, and he desperately blinks them away as he tries swallowing past the lump in his throat, but not even the familiar warmth of yasha could ground simon back. rather, the reminder that simon’s not returning on his own this time makes everything feel a lot more intense, like ragged tendrils curling at the base of his neck, grasping him until reality and faraway dreams blend into something miasmic.

simon’s never once deluded himself with thoughts of having his own family. he once thought he’d go grey on his own, something he was perfectly fine with because nothing is ever sacred—the catholics had a word for it, johnny said, how one’s mere existence was the original sin, and simon is neither a pagan nor a believer, but when you grow up with shadows that are ever so perpetually haunting, you learn that not even the sign of the cross can truly ward off the demons.

but then, his beloved appeared before him—just as… fearful; as self-punishing as he had been, and he knows it was twisted but he had been pulled. he had been lulled into the weight of your gravitational force, dragging his heart until it was homesick for anything less.

(two words have never sounded sweeter to him before.

i do.

since then, he’s never hunger for more.)

(until yasha.)

the cab stops, the driver dutifully ignoring how simon must look, all brooding and emotional as he holds his child close, like if he blinks, someone would take him away. he tips generously, and declines any offer of helping with the unloading of bags in the trunk. simon didn’t even bring much, just a travel bag and a rucksack stuffed with as many travel essentials for yasha.

the boy is asleep again, exhaustion dragging him back to his dreams. he looks so peaceful like this, and younger too, and simon knows that isn’t a good thing because yasha’s so small for a two year old. simon’s only comfort is that he’s bringing him somewhere safe; a place filled with boundless love.

he walks to the front door, debating on whether he should just take the spare key underneath the nondescript potted plant to get in or just bite the bullet and introduce yasha to you like this, through the entrance.

the choice is taken from him when you swing the door open, surprise and disbelief lining your face.

“i saw you—” you say at the same time that he rasps out, “love—”

he beckons you to go first. you did so with a tremor in your voice.

“i saw you from the cameras,” you pause, roving your wide eyes over him, before stopping at the bundle he’s carrying. “haley helped me set them up—said you can, uh, get notification of movements outside and, and…”

he watches as you realize that you’re about to ramble, so you take a deep breath, finding the centre of your gravity, before, “baby? who…”

simon adjusts his hold on yasha, before a careful hand sweeps away the blanket so you can see the boy better.

“this,” he says, quiet and fragile. “this is our son, jacob emory riley.” he licks at his chapped lips, the word ‘our’ settling so warmly in the pit of his stomach. “our yasha.”

“oh,” you whimper instantly, tears already springing from your eyes. a choked sound gets stuck on the back of your throat before you’re rushing forward, careful to not jostle the tyke awake, until you’re pressing yourself against simon’s side, watching raptly.

“simon he’s—” you hiccup, rubbing your face on his shoulder. “darling, he’s perfect.”

simon ducks down to brush his lips on the crown of your head, humming deep because yeah, he is. but so are you—and he wouldn’t have done this, anyway, without you. because yasha deserved the best and simon doesn’t know anyone who could step up other than you.

you, who is so bright and joyful; who has crafted fortitude from the ragged shards of your pain.

you, who is the strongest person that simon’s ever met; how you could look at the storm and find a reason to dance.

you, who is so beautiful and lovely, and so utterly full of love that it spills into everyone you meet and everything you do.

yasha deserves you.

and, love, you deserve a family just like this too.

.

yasha wakes up and simon makes the mistake of not being there for him. he didn’t even know he accidentally slept in the living room, long body sprawled on the couch gracelessly. he jolts awake after the loud ring of cries, the fear he felt at hearing yasha’s familiar sobbing slams so fiercely into simon’s heart.

he topples to the ground, knees thudding against the hardwood floors, before he bolts up, frantic as he tears through the house, trying to find his boy, desperate to comfort him and to apologize and to make things right because he never wants yasha to feel so alone in his new home—

simon pauses, feet stopping just in front of the bedroom where you and simon had put yasha in since the guest room has yet to be baby proofed and prepared, when he hears your familiar croon.

“shh, darlin’. you’re alright, i promise.”

simon angles himself so that he can see through the ajar door. you’re kneeling on the floor, head a few feet away from where yasha’s is pillowed. the boy is staring at you with wide eyes, wet and red, but he’s no longer wailing, and simon wonders if it’s because yasha’s internalizing his fear, but then he sees the tyke make grabby hands at you—pudgy fists closing, then opening again. he seems like a baby like this, more than a toddler, and simon watches as you coo, inching closer, giving yasha room to roll away if he wants, but the boy turns to his side, facing you properly, and it’s all the confirmation you need to take him in your arms.

you rise up from the floor, yasha perched on your hip. the boy is still watching you, curious, and you murmur something too faint for simon to hear, before wiping at his wet cheeks and his runny nose.

“hi, love,” you murmur, voice a tad quiet. simon sees the hesitance in your gait, like you don’t know what else to say. it takes a heartbeat, before you’re uttering your name, voice curling around the vowels the way simon never gets tired of hearing.

“i’ve heard good things about you, you know?” you say, brushing the pad of your finger along the bridge of yasha’s nose. simon’s ears pick up huffing sounds, then your giggles, and yasha’s hum.

“oh, i sure did,” you add, smiling, bouncing the toddler in your arms. “simon said you’re the best boy ever!”

simon did, he guesses, say that but with more words—he told you how he found yasha, and how yasha had been so brave after such a stressful change in his life; how yasha had been so excited to learn and to trust, and how he’d brighten up everyone’s day back at the base; how yasha had first called him daddy, and the others unca’, his brave little boy so eager for a family that he made one even when all he’s surrounded with was a ragtag of broken men.

yasha is truly such a beautiful boy, so darling and loving.

“si-‘on?” yasha says, attempting simon’s name.

“yeah,” you reply, just as choked up as simon is. “simon… your daddy.”

yasha hums, fist curling up your shirt.

“daddy,” he repeats, nodding. then, like he remembers that simon isn’t there, yasha begins to look distraught again, whining, looking up to you like you hold the answer when he asks, “daddy where?”

simon takes that chance to walk in. you two whirl to look at him, both with pained faces easing up into the loveliest of smiles just at his mere presence. it makes simon feel… raw; that somehow, all he needs to be is himself, and it’s enough to brighten up the room.

his lips twitch up in his own smile too.

“hey there, kid,” he greets, slotting himself to your side so he can pull you close and be in yasha’s line of sight.

you turn, moving to pass yasha to him, but the boy’s hand is still tight on your shirt and he still looks at ease with you, and simon nuzzles his face on the top of your head in comfort when he sees the way your lips wobble at yasha’s easy display of trust.

“daddy!” yasha cheers. “you here!”

simon ruffles the soft tufts of yasha’s hair. “of course. did you nap good?”

yasha nods, distracted by the bright colours on the bed. the yellow pillows and the baby blue blanket.

the dog stuff toy.

yasha gasps, utterly delighted, and he wriggles out, begging to be put down, and you and simon watch as he runs to the side of the bed, plucking the toy out with a giggle.

“towy!” he says, showing it to you and simon.

simon files the name for next time, focusing on yasha as he runs to hug simon’s leg, then yours, before running back to the bed, chatting animatedly to the toy.

simon pulls you close, slotting your back to his front to bury his face on the crook of your neck, because this, right here, is change. but also, he’s home.

“i missed you,” he murmurs, because it is the only thing he can verbalize. he wants to say more—he wants to say how he’s never once stopped thinking about you, how he’s always kept a picture he has of you in his helmet, tucked under the crown pad, how he’d always toy with his ring when he has the chance because simon is made of many things, and one of them is your love.

but this is all that forms from his lips, inadequate, but then simon hears the twinkle of your laughter, and, “i missed you too, love.” and knows, there needn’t be any more words. not when you two have more time than he’s ever had the privilege to spend.

.

the first time yasha calls you his mom—“mommy!”—was just days before the squad was set to meet the riley’s in their residence.

it was a mundane day; you and yasha are in the living room, playing with his army of anatoly’s—towy—when yasha squeals, finally able to dig out his favourite anatoly from underneath the couch after futile attempts. you’ve asked him if you can help him with it, but he’d been so adamant, tutting the way simon does and it’s honestly so adorable that you let him have at it.

so you laughed at the sound of his happy trills, watching as he turns, running to you, saying, “mommy, towy look!”

he falls to your lap, humphing loudly and smooshing the turtle stuffie on your face, and all you can do is gather him close, trying not to cry in front of him but—

he’s called you mommy.

your little brave boy called you—

“mommy, sad?” yasha asks, readily giving you another treasure, saying the word so naturally like you were never anything else to him.

“no, sweet pea,” you reply, choked up with the weight of your joy. “mommy’s the happiest she’s been.”

you kiss his chubby cheek, breathing in his scent, before letting him squirm out of your hold so he can play with another anatoly, leaving you the turtle one. you hold it close, trying to ground yourself, but the happiness bloats and you feel floaty.

god, it is almost unimaginable.

(you tell it to simon later at night, and simon coos as he wipes the tears away from your cheeks.

“i’m so, so happy si,” you breathe out.

simon bumps his forehead to yours. “i am too, baby.”)

.

simon is not pouting, thank you very much. if anyone says otherwise, he’d like to go on record and say that they’re all a bunch of liars. yes, that includes his beautiful wife too because, again, simon is not pouting.

sure yasha has refused to detach himself from uncle kyle, but that doesn’t mean simon’s jealous, he swears.

“yer a lying scumbag,” johnny hisses at him because he’s been trying to get simon to admit that he’s jealous, which simon isn’t. “i’m on you, LT. i’m on you.”

“whatever ‘tavish,” simon grumbles, hands twitching at another hearty giggle that rings from where kyle is playing with yasha. “last i checked, the boy still runs away from you so, you know, start with that.”

“oh you motherfu—”

“boys,” price barked out, and simon and johnny cringe at the chastising voice of their captain. “language.”

johnny says something that no one picks up because he’s chewing on his words. simon sniffs, looking away only to meet your eyes. unabashed glee is bright on your face, and simon knows he would be hearing you teasing about this later on tonight.

simon scrunches his nose. you reply with a playful rolling of your eyes.

yeah, it’s a good day. and simon still isn’t pouting.

notes: it turned out to have heavier (?) parts than expected. also to clarify, yasha’s been picked up from a mission (the specifics were removed since things got a wee graphic). i’ve included a concept photo of simon and yasha, which was fun to use while reimagining! i hope u guys liked this <3 peace out and sm love mwah!!

[rae-writes]

⊹ Candles [reversed] ⊹

since it's my birthday, I wanted to do a little special self-indulgence, so here's this! || 2.k || written with poly!Mc in mind + our son Luke

4 am 

Early in the morning, before the faux light has even spread across the Devildom, Mammon is in your bed. He’s pushed his way through your door, half asleep himself, stumbled over and climbed underneath your covers (that he swears are softer than his), and has pulled you into his arms. 

Every year, he insists on being the first person to wish you a Happy Birthday, and if not that, then the first who gets to tell you in person— so he's found that coming to your room before the day even begins gets him his title of ‘first’ and gives him alone time with you.

It’s much too early to be awake right now, so he’s content with falling back to sleep with you. His body is in complete contact with yours and he sleepily swears not to let go because he loves you too much. 

5 am 

An hour later, or maybe even less than, Asmo comes to sneak you from his brother’s grasp, gently hauling your barely conscious frame to his room. He wants you to keep getting as much beauty sleep as you can, but he still wants to start getting you ready for your big day! 

Of course, Azzy’s been planning this for weeks, so he has everything prepared and laid out. His alone time with you consists of him lowering you into the steaming bath and massaging you well, scrubbing your hair and body until you’re squeaky clean and practically shining, before toweling you off and dressing you in the clothes he’d set aside. 

Your skin care is done and your hair is fixed flawlessly, nails cut, filed, and painted; everything is all done up by the man himself and he tops it all off with excited kisses and pictures now that you’re [mostly] awake. 

6 am 

After you’re ready for the day, Lucifer takes over and hides you away in his study, selfishly holding you on his lap as you both drink coffee to get properly started. The drink is as bitter as ever, lips glossy with the remnants of it as you both chat quietly. 

He’s your soft start to the day, the calm before the lovable chaos, and the first born makes sure to whisper sweet words alongside the comforting crackle of the fireplace. His hour of alone time is lazy and physical, because he can’t go more than a few seconds without running his gloved hands over you. 

If anything, he’s unwilling to let you go, but Lucifer knows it would throw a wrench into the day’s layout and cause more fuss than necessary— plus, he has some things to do before tonight, so he’ll let you go with a slow kiss.

7 am

You’re handed over into Beelzebub’s capable hands, ensured to be served with a filling breakfast. He’s more than excited to show you what he, personally, cooked for you (even if there are just a few bites out of some of it). His cheeks are stuffed and a cute little smile is spread across his cheeks as he points to all the things on your plate. 

When  your plate is spotless, and your tummy is full but not too full, Beel guides you on a small little walk around the house corridors to make sure you digest properly. He’s still eating, of course, but his pleased hums are filling the air comfortably, making for a nice atmosphere. 

Your little walk ends at the entrance hall, where he bids you goodbye with a cozy little hug, and a promise that you’ll love every second of your special day.

8 am

With a hand at the small of your back, Satan leads you out of the house and straight to a bookstore, wanting to keep a slow start to the long day. With it having just opened, only the two of you and a few others are inside, giving plenty of room to stroll and browse (and goof around). 

He points out things you’ve had your eye on, new editions that weren’t there the previous visit, or special copies that were for limited time. The fourth born wants at least two books in your hand and a little collectible maybe- or a bookmark. Can’t have too many.

Once he’s spoiled you a little, and after you’ve both pet the local cats outside, he’s reluctantly handing you over with a lingering kiss to your hand, and a promise to read one of your books together soon.

9 am

Levi took his place, fingers lacing with yours, as he raved about a nearby anime store, gushing over the items he saw online that reminded him of you. By the time you get there, you know every section that’s going to be inside, yet it’s still exciting as you get pulled in. 

You both get lost in the cool merch, having to wave your hands over the stands or jump in place to find each other occasionally, but end up staying side by side for the most part, whisper-shouting with big smiles. 

Leaving the store, there is a pretty good sized bag on your and his arm, but he couldn’t be more thrilled about the lightness of his wallet since he got to spend money on you. He takes your bag, and your previous bag, in a promise to tuck them safely in your room, before giving you a location.

10 am 

Waiting for you outside of a small little amusement park is Diavolo, who is positively beaming in anticipation. He’s already got two colorful wristbands in hand, which he latches around your wrist, and lets you do the same to him, before heading inside. 

There are rides of all kinds and he lets you choose each one of them, pointing out ones he thinks you’ll like as you pass. You play a few booth games, getting a pretty flame salamander plushie as a prize, or totally failing and having a good laugh. 

His only request is the photo booth, which you both do two different times, to get a silly border and a normal border. He pouts a little as he walks you out, assuring you’d see him later, before leading you a few blocks back into the townsquare. 

11 am

For lunch, Simeon takes you off the paths and to a somewhat secluded gazebo, where a sweet little picnic was spread out; celestial realm dishes were rationed onto baby blue plates, two shiny cups on either side, with polished silverware. 

The breeze is just right as the two of you eat, chatting and sitting closer than usual. Butterflies go by, and your eyes follow, as you both take turns pointing out different kinds you see and what flowers they seem to like better. 

You take your time neatly packing everything up, fingers brushing and shoulders bumping, before he parts with a, dare you say it, angelic kiss to your forehead.

12 pm

Luke, naturally, is in charge of dessert, promising a light, yet satisfying, treat as he leads you down the sidewalk and into a cute looking bakery. He wants you to save room for the many things that were cooked and baked for your party, so he gets a little pile of oreo balls and other small things like that. 

He holds nothing back as he tells you how happy he is to be spending your birthday with you, how he’s so very glad he met you, and anything else along those lines. He has to get them all out now, just in case he doesn’t get the chance to later! 

The sweet angel is nearly bouncing on the balls of his feet as he leads you to your next location, waving excitedly as he promises to help make your party one of a kind.

1 pm

You’re actually given to Raphael next, who’s standing outside of a library with that barely perceptible smile on his face. He explains that he wanted somewhere quiet and cozy to wind down with you, suggesting that you shouldn’t do too much before the big celebration. 

The very back corner of the library becomes yours for now, complete with a pretty view of swaying trees. The archangel almost shyly asks if you’d sit closer, loosely holding your hand as he begins reading to you. 

He stalls a bit at the end, toying with your fingers, before telling you that he’ll see you later…but he’d like to do this again, sometime, okay?

2 pm

Hocus Pocus becomes your next destination, Solomon wasting no time in wrapping an arm around you as you browse the store. It’s slow and unhurried and drawn out as he talks about certain items, explaining a few origins, and listens to how your day’s been so far. 

He dabbles a bit in glittery, washable, body paint, joyously painting random shapes onto your skin (even rolling his sleeves up so you could return the  favor). The sorcerer makes it a point to paint his name along your wrist, taking a picture of it, before helping you wash it all off. 

With a quick spell, he takes away any aching your feet might have, or any sort of headache, teasingly kissing at your jaw, before wagging his fingers as he teleports you somewhere new. 

3 pm

A familiar shade of gold greets you as you're sent sprawling out onto the Castle’s floors. Barbatos chuckles and chides Solomon’s delivery as he helps you up, dusting you off gently. He makes sure you’re alright, boldly carrying you anyway, regardless of your answer.

A soothing, palate cleansing, tea spread is set out on the table as he settles you into the chair, pouring it as delicately as ever, before joining you. Instead of adjacent, he sits beside you, eagerly listening to anything you have to say. 

He may or may not cheat time, prolonging his alone time with you just a little, unwilling to let you go now that you both finally have a minute together. He does have much to get done still, however, and with a [deep] kiss, he politely escorts you through one of his portals. 

4 pm

In the heart of the forest, amongst a wave of flowers, lies Belphie. He’s not asleep, but it’s clear he’s just woken up, as he gestures for you to come lay down, offering a peaceful break. 

Instead of star gazing like usual, he settles for cloud gazing, lazily pointing up and whispering descriptions here and there. It’s serene and quiet and, in his opinion, the perfect way to kill time. 

While he doesn’t want to get up, he does at least hug you and nuzzle close in a send off, watching you go, before flopping back down.

5 pm

Mephisto is more than ready, and honored, to be the one escorting you to your big birthday bash. He takes you on the long path through the forest, deciding that if the others got time alone, surely he could have his own slot, too. 

He keeps close, talking about daily matters, continuing to take small detours as you both make your way through the Devildom. His eyes don’t leave your face much at all as he basks in the moment. 

With a grand, flourishing gesture, he officially announces your arrival, and presents you to your birthday party!

6 pm

Confetti, balloons, changing led lights, and glitter are everywhere. There’s a long table with many presents littering the surface, and another one next to it with small party snacks and desserts. Music plays faint in the background, not really needed over the fun and chaos that comes from the party games picked out, or from the karaoke. 

When the time comes, a cake as astonishing as the previous ones is brought out and magically lit up prettily. Voices harmonize as they all sing you happy birthday , none being able to fight the smile on their faces, but…you couldn’t either. 

And as you circled around the cake, blowing out each of your candles, you wished for what you did every year since coming here: to always be able to stay with your boys. 

With cake and presents over, it delves into more chaos as they all argue over a) who you’re going home with tonight (and that it would be no fair if Mephisto took you, since he’d have you alone), and b) if you went home with a group, who’s room you would be staying in (Solomon taunted Mammon so much, you swore he’d blow a gasket). 

Oh, yeah. You loved them to death.

[maeumi-jng]

if looks could kill

pairing: enhypen x idol!gn!reader

synopsis: jealousy is a disease and he's caught it. or in which enhypen members try not to expose your entire relationship.

warnings: fluff, poor humour, skinship, mentions of falling, a variety of male idols mentioned, talks of insecurity, age-gap between another idol, proof read-ish?

library: enhypen bookshelf

heeseung

he's the oldest... he should manage himself. he's mature... he knows better...

but watching you with nct's jeno... heeseung had lost all sense of knowledge and rationality.

you were mcees with jeno back in 2018 to 2019 for sbs' the show. to say fans loved you together was an understatement. even heeseung had been watching you as a trainee, in awe of you and the chemistry you naturally created with everyone.

everyone and their mother was waiting for the news ,that you and jeno were dating, to break. whether it would be by dispatch or some other shady news report, or slip of the tongue... they were all sure and convinced you two were together.

sadly, you both had ended your mcing period together, only occasionally saying hi to each other at other events where you were both scheduled. but recently, the both of you had been reinstated as special mcees for music bank when the current hosts, lee chaemin and eunchae were attending their unavoidable schedules.

heeseung was happy at first that he could see you more considering the promotions for sweet venom had just started. you had been dating for almost a year but spending time with each other was harder than the both of you thought.

heeseung's happiness, however, soon died down when he stepped into that rather small cubicle. the cameras weren't rolling yet jeno and the stupid eye smile of his was beaming down at you. he literally could feel the fawning of the staff behind the cameras, all whispering to each other about the 'never ending' chemistry between you and jeno.

the entire interview was almost uncomfortable. you and jeno had put on your peppy and jubilant personalities for mcing, enthusiastically introducing and talking to enhypen. heeseung couldn't help but notice every time you said something, his eyes would flicker to jeno instead of you and spot the similar look of admiration he himself often sported.

heeseung could only bare tight-lipped smiles to jeno when he received questions, suppressing all his petty grimaces and curled lips of annoyance. it wasn't until he received jungwon's sharp glare and pointed look that he feigned a wider smile and responded with an unfamiliar chirp to his tone.

although heeseung was scolded heavily by jungwon afterwards, at the end of the day it didn't matter. because he had caused enough of a ruckus that fans had sensed his jealousy and ran along with it, making ships and creating dating rumours for you and him. in the end... it all worked out in his favour.

jongseong

whoever said jay is calm and collected needs to take a step back and do a bit of rethinking. he's not the leader... poor guy is panicking.

it started at the end of the korean festival kbs was hosting for select groups or artists that were popular and upcoming. you and your group were walking around in circles, thanking fans for their support, makings sure they were warm, and bidding goodbye. amongst all the confetti raining down on you, for some reason, one just had to get stuck under your heel, causing enough friction for you to begin your descent into falling. you would've ended up hitting your head if it wasn't for cravity's minhee behind you. the surprised idol had decent reflexes, catching you by your arms with his own hands.

for a moment, everyone in the room was quite shocked. your own members made sure you were okay. while assuring everyone you were fine, you profusely thanked minhee while simultaneously apologising even though it wasn't your fault in anyways... you were just so embarrassed. minhee was dismissive of the entire thing, just glad you were okay and nothing bad happened.

a minor interaction of sorts... but the repercussions were big. it had set netizens ablaze. news articles and gossip sites had been circulating. fans were looking back at old fancams to see your previous interactions, hoping you and minhee were indeed dating.

yeah jay wasn't happy. he didn't think anything of it initially. he was happy you were fine, similar to minhee, and thankful the idol was there to help you. but then he got the ship edits on his for you page. he blinked blankly and then clicked on the comments... oh boy.

they said you looked good with minhee? that you... 'suited' each other. or 'why haven't i thought of these two together before?' what the hell... the poor guy's literally looking at his screen with the most furrowed brows and dumbfounded face as a burning whirl begins to spark within him.

as dangerous as it was, jay would rather have his name circulating in your dating rumours rather than someone else that wasn't him. so he did just that. subtlety, of course.

jay wasn't necessarily the couple matching type of guy. he liked getting you things that were unique to you. but all of sudden, he was bombarding you with matching items... keychains, phone cases, bracelets, necklaces, even your damn socks.

safe to say, he had created a monstrosity that the hybe pr team was going to spend the next few weeks attempting to deny.

jaeyun

this one here... he can't bare it. jake is already so expressive and clingy (in a good way ofc). he feels a lot. therefore, he really really really likes you.

he won't lie. he's searched the both of your names up on twitter or naver far too many times just to see it trending. not to mention his secret tik tok account where he likes all of the ship edits and videos made for you two, even if they are terrible. more than once his pr team have thought of smacking some sense into him but it just seemed like jake was lovesick.

to be honest, the pr team was prepared to confirm news of you two dating. with the rate jake was going, he would've probably exposed it himself.

and the recent sbs gayodaejeon lost him.

you and yeonjun had a special stage together. he was slightly nervous already in the fact that you were performing together because he knew how fans got. but from the moment the performance started and he realised you guys were having a dancing stage... jake was left to become god's strongest soldier. yeah... no.

how on earth was jake supposed to know it was going to have this much skinship? jake loved shawn mendes but after today... he hated him. furthermore, he hated 'senorita' with a passion.

to make matter worse, the fans who were already going to be a bit delusional, were even more delusional. they were all fired up. "dispatch reveal, when?" "i would cry if yeonjun looked at me like that." "can't tell whether i want to be y/n or him..." "their chemistry... shit..."

his members were already worried for jake but their worry was becoming a constant state. all this jealousy was transferring into his work. jake was showing up to work every day, mind somewhere else, pouty and sulky, always reading the comments and influx of ship edits of you and yeonjun that had replaced his... the AUDACITY. not to mention, he was avoiding yeonjun like a plague. oh he's in the cafeteria? oops, bathroom time. backstage and talking to heeseung? well.

best believe the next few days he's stuck to you as if you were attached by the hip. jake's making it more obvious by the second and he couldn't care less. arm strung around your waist, hand in hand, pretending there was an eyelash on your face just to caress it, passing you his blazer at award shows to cover your legs or back.

quickly, any talk of you and yeonjun was gone and (rightly, according to jake), replaced by you and jake. he even made the mistake of going live, where the entire chat was filled with questions about whether you and jake were dating. someone said blink seven times if he was, so he blinked seven times afterwards. another said clap in a circle if he was, so he did.

yeah... a day later, belift and your company released a conjoined statement to confirm it. fans were mostly happy and also laughing at the fact that jake was so obviously jealous of yeonjun, who he now could look in the eye, knowing you were right by his side (not that yeonjun even cared. if anything, he probably found it funny as well).

sunghoon

sunghoon and jealousy... one could say it a good mix rather than a bad mix.

sunghoon was used to getting asked out often. not to brag, but have you seen him? it was a good looking guy. he understood it.

but you.. boy, you were on a whole another level. people were practically lining up for you. numbers on napkins accompanied by food or chocolate, straight up confessions or attempts for your number backstage, or even flowers under the pretence of congratulating you.

bold and brave, sunghoon thought. these people were bold and brave to be doing all of this. but he got it. in a way, he was proud. all these people... and you chose him. he mattered far more than you and only the both of you knew it. he cherished that. the secrecy of your relationship, while not ideal, meant keeping all the things he loved (you) all to himself with no one else intruding.

but all this secrecy didn't stop things from going a tad bit too far.

an actor and idol. park jihoon. the man wasn't a confession type of guy. at least not immediately. instead, he liked to court and flirt. and his choice? you.

you had both acted in a drama together recently. the chemistry between you two... well, it set everyone alive to say the least. even sunghoon was flustered... he couldn't tell if he hated jihoon or he wanted to replace jihoon and do all those scenes with you. both probably.

you were clearly paying your dues... being kind and nice to the actor even though the affection was very much one-sided. but either your kindness was leading him on or he couldn't take a hint because jihoon was not afraid of anything it seemed.

when asked his ideal type behind the scenes? you.

the purposeful double meaning type of comments that bordered more on corny rather than flirty? said.

the chance to hold your arm when you both took home the best couple award? taken.

the couple award struck sunghoon's last nerve. because one could excuse the arm thing as a basic manner moment. but the comment jihoon made. simple and quite common in the acting industry. yet said with every pure intention. "i would really like to work with y/n again." followed by the awes and gushing of fans and fellow actors while you painted a small smile and a soft laugh in response.

what. the. fuck.

are you serious? is he serious?

him and jay are the same. they want to be more obvious but in the least obvious way. instead of taking the matching items route, sunghoon needed to directly deal with jihoon. so every time you had a schedule with jihoon... mcing, award presenting, as nominees, etc, sunghoon pulled something new.

you're talking to jihoon about the wide praise you two were receiving for your work and suddenly, "oh, you left your phone at mine, here you go." sunghoon would put what was his phone into your hand and literally leave. and you're left there standing like ??? and jihoon is also like ???

this time you're sitting with the actor backstage and suddenly a water bottle dangles in front of your face. sunghoon is smiling at you, completely disregarding jihoon. "you like water, right? here." uh, sunghoon, sweetheart... everyone likes water. we kinda need it to live, babes.

by this point, you're now expecting sunghoon. eyes darting every second to get a glimpse of his growing hair and the smell of tamburins' wood salt beach perfume in the air to notify you of his presence. but he doesn't come. you're partly relieved but also sad. you were kinda of enjoying it. well, more like it was growing on you.

psych!

you and every other artist and actor is going around in circles, thanking the fans for coming tonight and what not. sunghoon is going for a strike. it's the evening, the temperature has cooled down and you're stylist has opted for a more summery outfit in this winter weather. you must be freezing is sunghoon's thought (you can't feel the cold considering the heat of a gazillion lights are on you but sure). ever the smooth man, sunghoon slides off of his blazer and puts it onto your shoulders, telling you to keep warm.

you were shocked.

jihoon was shocked.

everyone's shocked.

sure, sunghoon sacrificed a bit of your secrecy considering by the morning clips of the action were swarming every platform and every past fancam was being investigated, but the look on jihoon's face was absolutely worth it. and if he had to do it all over again just to see you smile warmly back at him and thank him, he would do it again in a heart beat.

seonwoo

sunoo is one of those people who wouldn't be that jealous. it's not that he wasn't insecure... he was human first and foremost. but he didn't really care for anyone else when it came to you. he only had eyes for you.

also he thought he was already obvious? like he's the one singing your song when they play through his headphones when the group plays the whisper game. or the first one to critique jake when he messes up the lyrics of your song during a live because he knows them off by heart. or the literal STACK of your albums (exclusive, limited, every version) he had in his dorm and his parents' house. there was literally more albums of your group then enhypen's that his parents had taken the responsibility of.

yet, that doesn't stop kim wooseok. well, not him specifically. the fans. you acted with him in the drama, the night has come. you weren't aware of your seven year age gap until your first meeting with him and he said he was like 27. and sunoo was like o_o. bc wdym your 27? he looked the same age as you... and he was playing an attractive teenager easily... wtf? unfair much???

while the age gap wasn't great, the romance wasn't heavily what your show was about anyways, which could make one feel lighter. despite all of that, sunoo had seen edit after edit after edit about you and wooseok. you and wooseok behind the scenes discussing your characters feelings towards each other, you and wooseok at a press conference bc he was making sure you were able to sit down in the small outfit your stylist gave you, you and wooseok in the water together

you and fucking wooseok.

sunoo was going to lose it. how much more obvious could he be?

how about matching couple items? well, the thing about sunoo is that he already has matching items. why wouldn't he? they were so cute!

sunoo also wasn't the type of person to directly combat it. he wasn't sunghoon.

he was mixture of jake, and well, himself. sunoo quickly got pouty and sulky as well. any time he heard that damn mafia alarm ring from your for you page, with feigned and overwhelming kindness, he gently took the phone from your hands and threw it onto the bed before folding his arms and looking at you blankly.

anytime a member brought up the drama on live and set of the chat to talk about you and wooseok, sunoo would immediately try to change the subject or he'd be a bit catty... "i just didn't know how old he was... he like so old." (fans began to notice how often this happened after bringing it up two or three times, resulting in the constant chatter of you and wooseok just to rile him up).

by end of the last episode, sunoo thought everyone would stop talking about the show. but no... you and the damn plot (which one? up to you) left everyone wanting more... especially of you and... yeah, he can't even say the name anymore.

the only way sunoo is getting over this, is by you comforting him. he isn't going to unnecessarily create rumours or try to leak your relationship. to be honest, the thought of it was terrifying. he hated involving himself in drama.

you end up spending the next few weeks almost sunoo-crazed. "oh sunoo recommended me this product..." forget matching bracelets, you brought him matching pyjamas. "oh, my dog? she's great. she doesn't really like people but she seems like sunoo the most. maybe more than me :("

soon, in a year or two, when the news breaks out of you two dating, this odd period of time will finally make sense.

jungwon

calm and collected? yes. why? he's the leader. said it before, but jungwon has the sole responsibility to be able to adjust to every situation there is.

an injured member? he's got it.

wardrobe malfunction? let's have a word with the stylist.

mic pack falling off mid-stage? man's got the word 'professional' in his dna.

if anyone asked him, truthfully, jungwon admired you. as a fan and as your boyfriend. you were similar to him. the same age, a young leader, good at basically everything... but you had three differences. one that your group might as well have invented the word popularity. second that you debuted earlier than him. lastly that you, yourself, created a new category of idols - super idols or super-dols.

what is a super-dol you ask? an all rounder that performs and executes everything with diligence and quality. they mean everything. not just the whole singing, rap, dancing combo. they mean the inclusion of acting, music production, song writing... etc.

they said that a person like you only comes once in a life time. they struggled to add people to your assigned 'category'.

to think jungwon was dating you was beyond him. how you liked him was equally beyond him. he thought he was just lucky. you thought otherwise. jungwon was everything to you. he understood you, he was always by your side and he was hard working. life was hard. but being with him made you feel like life in itself made sense.

jungwon knew that people wanted you. not romantically but as friends, as a mentor, as an advisor... it made sense for someone of your caliber. so he wasn't surprised when the newly debuted anton of riize was collaborating with you to produce a new song. but what he didn't expect was the genuine interest of the idol. nor did everyone else.

jungwon was backstage at the mbc gayodaejeon, watching your special stage with anton. it was the last day of the year and the last thing he wanted to do was end it on a bad note with something a fickle as jealousy. yet, the green-eyed monster had found him as he watched anton's gaze remain on you, as though he were unable to move, smiling ear to ear while you sang.

he heard one of his staff whisper to another, "they aren't dating right? gosh, they should date! he looks like he really likes her!"

jungwon could feel the cautious gazes of his members on him, trying dismiss such nonsense with frantic comments. "they don't know what they're talking about, jungwon." "ignore them." " he shook his head lightly, taking a deep breath. he needed to remain calm. if he couldn't, who would?

he trusted you with his entire heart. you liked him, there was no doubt in his mind. his heart skipped when he made you flustered with his sweet nothings and attention to detail. and to be frank, he understood anton. if the positions were swapped and he was in anton's place, he thought he would look at you the same way.

minutes after the clock struck twelve, jungwon didn't have to even look for you. you had found him instead, dragging him behind one of the trailers. you brought him into a long kiss, hugging him tightly.

jungwon smiled into this kiss, bringing you closer to him as all of his nonsensical worries melted away. parting almost breathlessly, his heart warmed at your wish of a happy new year. he smiled once again, placing a kiss the side of your head while he grabbed your hand, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb. "happy new year, baby."

riki

riki was right on the precipice of youth and adulthood. he was only a year younger than jungwon but everyone always treated him with such fragility. not just because of his young age but the innocence that came with moving to a different country because of his said young age.

but riki was more mature than he looked. he had to be. it wasn't that he was alone. no. his members and friends would never ever make him feel like that. nor would you. but this type of maturity was required of him.

upon seeing p1h's soul or haku's eyes constantly travel back and forth to you as he interviewed your group, riki resolved to maintain stoic and pretend like he didn't care. you were in public, all eyes were on you. did it bug him that the person looking at you was the same age and also japanese? yes. but the nudge of jungwon and the thought of dealing with the staff was enough to make him stand down at the time. to be honest, if haku's whole thing ended after the interview, riki wouldn't of cared.

but it didn't.

riki was observing him throughout your performance (well as much as one could, he was still trying to watch you) and haku kept looking at you. like his eyes were moving with you as if he was only focused on you. but it was fine. riki could handle this... this was life... right?

haku, however, seemed to enjoy taking on every last nerve of riki's (unintentionally ofc, sorry haku 🥹). your group and enhypen were seated together backstage, all chatting and playing card games to waste some time before having to go back out. riki, ever the communication expert, already pointed the boy to you. "can't you just look away every time he looks at you?" he complained.

you raised a brow, placing down a card. "you want me to not meet his eyes in an interview? riki, i didn't peg you as the jealous type," you teased.

riki blankly looked at you. "i'm not," he said defensively, folding his arms. "i'm not jealous. i'm just being... absolutely reasonable."

"sure, sure..." you squinted your eyes, nodding sarcastically. "riki, just forget about it. you were probably hallucinating. he probably was just looking at me normally. honestly, you should rest more like i told you to."

riki wished you were right. that he was indeed hallucinating. but any maturity riki had been working on was already on a thin line and diminished as he saw haku walk up to your large group, greeting everyone but mostly you. heart eyes and all.

in the moment, it dawned on you that riki was in fact right. haku's finger twiddling, the brief pause before he spoke as if he was thinking about what to say only for him to still fumble over his words, the tinged ears... you had done the same thing to riki when he suddenly told you he liked you after being clingy for days on end.

well... shit.

you were quick to act.

no one spoke as much japanese as the yearly comebacks warranted. at least that's what you figured when you greeted him back in japanese, introducing riki to him as another japanese idol he could be friends with and the best part, as your boyfriend.

the corners of riki's mouth couldn't help but twitch up. to say he was belated was an understatement. he dipped his head a little, a wide smile now sprawled all over his face.

the visible disappointment on haku's face made your heart ache slightly. you felt terrible. maybe you should've let him down less... directly. but the obvious happiness riki was radiating off of him made you want to smack some sense into him.

by the end of your schedule, you had hesitantly accepted riki's offer for you to sleep over at the dorm because you had no idea why but regret felt like it was looming over you. and boy was it. the entire way back home, riki teased you the entire time.

"say it again. say that i'm your boyfriend again! why not? too shy? you weren't shy then.. you said it so confidently like..."

the teasing only ended when you ignored him for the rest of the ride and riki realised he had fallen victim to the silent game. he was a fan of silence. but this was not the one he enjoyed.

cutting back on the teasing, riki just relished the fact you were asleep in his arms and not anyone else's. you were with him and that's all that mattered. ♡︎

© maeumi-jng | do not copy, post (repost is fine!) or translate anywhere else! thank you ♡︎ requests here!

[sturnioz]

♯┆fully introducing. . . fwb!chris .ᐟ

you and fwb!chris stopped hooking up after realising you were both taking things way too far, and that the arrangement was lasting longer than necessary — but when you show up at the triplets birthday party empty handed, you both know one birthday present that he'll enjoy the most.

"you're here?" chris' eyebrows raises in surprise at your arrival, but it still doesn't stop him from throwing his arm around your shoulder to coax you into a hug that you immediately return, your hands rubbing his back. "i didn't expect you to, like, be here.."

"i'm not going to miss your birthday," you say with a light laugh, pulling back from the embrace to give him a sheepish smile. "i kinda forgot to buy a present on my way here... i'm sorry."

"no — no, s'cool. don't worry about it," chris dismisses with a wave of his hand before he scratches the back of his neck, adjusting the cap on his head. "the party is about to end soon but, do you — can you stay behind when everyone leaves, or somethin'?"

"sure," you nod slowly. "i'll go wait in your room.."

you've been waiting for fifteen minutes, listening to chris' laughter echoing in the living-room as he bids everyone goodbye and thanks them for coming to his and his brother's birthday celebrations, while you mindlessly walk around his familiar bedroom, capturing the small details of the space that hasn't changed since you were last here.

the walls are still white, decorated with a few random posters of his favourite artists. he still has that neatly stacked record collection that sits in the corner, untouched and left in pristine condition, and he still has his shoe collection tucked away in the other corner, some pairs left slightly askew.

he also still has a few photo frames sitting on his desk next to his computer, and your fingers ghost over the images of him with his friends and family, the locations holding a lot of memories. but you pause when your fingertips touch a particular photo that you were certain chris wouldn't have kept, and your heart swells uncomfortably in your chest.

the photo that catches your eye is one of you and chris at a carnival, both of you wearing silly headbands and grinning widely. chris stands behind you with his arms loosely draped around your shoulders, his cheek pressed against yours. your hand rests on his arm while the other hand squeezes his jaw playfully.

staring at it, your stomach swirls with regret as you take a step back. you feel suddenly guilty for showing up at his birthday, after you were the one that decided to call it quits on your odd situation.

you and chris were friends with benefits — an arrangement that lasted much longer than either of you had originally planned. you were hooking up to satisfy your needs, fucking each other when you were sexually frustrated and in need of a release, or sometimes when you were board.

what was only supposed to be a month-long fling turned into two months, then five, then a year, and eventually nearly a year and a half.

the predicament wasn't good for either of you — feelings had spiralled out of control, and even your shared close friends had pointed out how strangely long it had been going on.

it made you feel terrible when a girl once approached you, saying she liked chris and wanted to ask him out, but couldn't due to the uncertainty around your relationship.

that exact night, you had explained to chris that maybe you had both dragged out the friends with benefits situation longer than you should have, and in doing so, were preventing each other from meeting other people. chris was confused and hesitant, but he eventually agreed, leaving you both to shake on it as you ended your friends with benefits situation.

it's been two months since then, and truthfully, you've both struggled to keep in contact with each other without things feeling awkward and whenever you share eye contact, you're reminded of the intimate moments you've shared.

it felt a dent in your friendship, but you were desperate to still keep chris as the close friend as he once was, which is why you showed up tonight, despite the complicated history.

"sorry for makin' you wait so long," you hear chris apologise behind you, and you're startled at the sudden voice, peering over your shoulder to see chris close his bedroom door behind himself with a grin. "had to help matt and nick get nate into the uber, the kid didn't wanna leave."

"you should've let him stay," you tell him with a kind smile. "then you wouldn't be alone in here for the night on your birthday."

"well, i mean, i was hopin' that you would stay with me tonight," chris admits with an airy laugh, rubbing his jaw — a familiar nervous habit you recognise from your time together. "since we, like, haven't been able to spend time together, y'know?"

"i get it," you nod in understanding, wanting nothing more than to catch up and spend time with him as well "i... i'm still sorry for not getting you a birthday present."

"you can still give me one..." chris murmurs softly as he takes a step forward, his finger scratching his cheek. your eyes widen slightly, immediately knowing what he's hinting at when you feel his hands cradle your face, his thumb pulling at your bottom lip. "you... you can give me you."

"chris..." you warn him, and your fingers curl around his wrist, but you don't pull his hands away.

"c'mon.. you don't miss it?" chris questions you and you get surprised, watching as his teeth kneads down on his bottom lip as he stands closer to you. "i miss it. a lot — more than i'd like to admit, to be honest."

"i do," you admit quietly. "but that doesn't mean we should."

"we enjoyed ourselves, we — we liked it," he states, grazing his lips over yours. "that's all that matters, right? i mean, we were fuckin' happy, so — so who cares what others think? i'd never want them like i want you.. don't you want me too?"

"you talk too much," you sigh, fisting the collar of his shirt and pulling him in for a kiss which he reciprocates almost instantly, refusing to give either of you a chance to breath as he's licking inside your mouth and kissing your lips raw.

his quick and nimble fingers are tugging down the zipper of your jeans, and you gasp when you feel his hand slip beneath the waistband of your panties, pressing his fingers to your folds and rubbing your clit in circular motions that elicits a whine from you, baffled by the fact he still knows your body so well.

he's laying you down on his unmade bed, hovering above you, resting one hand by the side of your head to keep him upright while the other plays with your pussy — the kiss hot and heavy as his fingers push through your opening, curling them and grazing the spot that has your thighs snapping shut around his hand.

chris is drinking up your moans, panting in your mouth as he grinds down on your thigh while bringing you closer and closer to your orgasm, and he's grinning against your lips as you're embarrassingly quick to cum over his fingers, the wet squelching sounds echoing throughout the quietness of his bedroom.

"yeah, that's it..." he sighs over your mouth. "good, ma.. jus' like that."

neither of you give yourself time to calm down as he's already sitting back on his knees to pull his pants and boxers down to his thighs, not wanting to waste any time in taking his clothes off fully.

you do the same, lifting your hips to pull down your own jeans and underwear, cursing under your breath when the material gets stuck around your shoes and chris laughs, helping you yank off your shoes to leave your lower half bare for him.

chris resumes his position above you — guiding himself to your slick pussy and stroking the head of his cock between your puffy folds, gathering your arousal for an easy slip in, and you wrap your thighs around his hips as he does so, the feeling of being full with his cock leaves you a moaning messy already, gripping at his shoulders as he thrusts, grunting with each deep stroke.

"chriiiis..." you mewl his name loudly and he grins, slotting his lips to yours as he pounds relentlessly, skin slapping against skin.

he's not letting up, his pace brutal when he feels your nails dig into his shoulder blades and he tastes the salty tears that slip down your cheeks from the pleasure and sensitivity of not being fucked in so long.

"so fuckin' pretty, ma," he compliments you when he parts from your lips, admiring you beneath him. his eyes dart above your head for a moment, glancing at the headboard that rattles but holds the birthday gift someone had gifted him earlier this morning, a chuckle rumbling in his chest as he shakes his head. "yeah... you're definitely my favourite birthday present."

© STURNIOZ

[naviavu]

Evergreen

PAIRINGS: yandere!alhaitham x reader

TAGS: mild compared to my other works <3, i guess, >:-), obsession, possessive sex, juicy smut, alhaitham is yandere YANDERE, he just wants reader back home :(, sumeru dream team, abuse of power, childhood friends to lovers, kinda, manipulation

WORDS: 4.4k // crossposted on ao3 // my masterlist

NOTES: hope everyone enjoys this dark twist of alhaitham! it's been so long since i wrote for genshin, and i'm not sure how much the tumblr community has changed. regardless, please don't hesitate to drop by my inbox to comment or request! i genuinely missed writing lol <3

You often think that you’re cursed with your work.

(Y/N) of the Akademiya. Graduated early from Vahumana, traveling all over the seven nations to be a teacher and provide impoverished kids with free education. This is the fourth year of your career, and you’re staying in Fontaine– everything is going great.  

Until one day, a messenger approached you.

“What do you mean the stakeholders are withholding funds indefinitely?” A chalk breaks under your grip, powder falling to your skirt. You glance quickly outside the tent, careful to not let your students hear you. “That doesn’t make any sense– the Yorun investors are literally from Sumeru! They’re wealthy enough to fund fancier Akademiya projects! ”

The messenger– Jesse, a gentle Fontainian girl much younger than you– avoids eye contact and fiddles with her sling bag. “They insisted that the abrupt change in the sages and Lesser Lord Kusanali’s rise to power caused their resources to become… limited.”

“Oh, that’s bullshit!” You shout. Jesse trembles. You sigh and pat her head. “Sorry, kid. I didn’t mean to raise my voice. Get home safe, alright?”

(She only nods and places the letter on your desk. Before leaving, she turns back and says, “I’m really sorry, Ma’am (Y/N). I also wish that you continue your work. You’ve done a great deal educating kids in this neighborhood… including my brother.”

You give her a sad smile.)

There was no choice. The next day, you taught one last lesson to your students (eleven children from the back alleys of Fontaine, all no older than twelve) and bid your final goodbyes. When they ask where you’re going, you tell them that you’re on for another long journey, and you don’t know when you’ll be back. They gather around and embrace you, small hands all over your body. One of the kids (Jules, one brilliant in maths but not so much in literature. You’ll miss his toothy smile the most) tell you that they will pray to Focalors for your safety. You pat Oli’s head one last time, telling him to be good for his sister Jesse. 

A carriage picks you up before sunrise. Your journey to Sumeru was uneventful, and every small bump and thud on the way aggravated you further. You settle for burning holes at the empty seat in front of you.

You enter the city with your head down, walking the familiar steps robotically. You think that you recognize the voices of your old acquaintances and neighbors chattering and laughing, but the haze from your mind (and heart) prevents you from doing the bare minimum of greeting them.

The first step to your wooden porch is a bittersweet homecoming. When you open your front door, the hinges still squeak the same tones before you left. 

Your evergreen shrubs haven't grown an inch, as if someone was maintaining them. (You brush off this strange detail.)

Mindlessly staring inside your unkempt house, you decide that if you want to continue your life’s work, you must continue earning money. 

(You failed to notice that your doorknob was dust-free.)

You sat down on your old desk and wrote a lengthy letter to the higher-ups for the cause of your arrival, the reason for the halt of your travels, and that you’re looking for a job. 

For the rest of the day, you unpack your bags, sweep the floor, and pace restlessly in your living room. It’s been many years since you were in contact with your superiors. The last time you saw them was at your graduation, where everyone expected you to stay in Sumeru and be one of the next candidates for the Sage of Vahumana. 

The grip in your broom tightens when you remember as clear as day your professors’ anger and judgment when you declined their offer. Entitled. Ungrateful.

Will they even accept you back? Will they cast you out?

To your surprise, a reply arrived on your doorstep not even a day later. A clean envelope embroidered with green and silver patterns.

You were offered to fill the vacant position of Scribe. 

You tell yourself that you’ll adjust eventually. 

Seeing the piles of papers and books in front of you, your hand aches a phantom throb. You wonder how your friend Lisa could survive this kind of monotony in Mondstadt. It pays better, sure, and your back and legs won’t hurt as much from traversing landscapes– but it’s still nothing compared to seeing the smile on children’s faces when they finally understand the concepts after a bone-deep, exhausting lesson.

As expected, the stick-thin pen felt too soft on your fingers after a few hours. You were more used to holding chalks or markers. Drafting ordinances and reading through academic policies was never your thing. 

Outside your study, you hear the light footsteps of scholars while noisily prattling about one of their newest inventions. You can’t help but compare the plain white-green palette of your office to the brightness and energetic vibrance of the local districts. 

Putting your hands on your head, you exhale deeply. “Fuck me!” 

“--(Y/N). I hope you’re doing well on your first day.” A voice –not too different from years ago, just deeper– enters the room.

Oh god. “Alhaitham!” The silver-haired man closes the door behind him. You didn’t even hear his footsteps outside your office. “Sorry, my… hand cramped from signing all these papers. You know how it is.” 

He raises his eyebrow. “Still not used to your tasks?” Seeing him out of his Haravatat uniform is a new sight. Even from a distance, his stature is much taller, no doubt towering over you.  

“Well, I can’t really complain,” His lack of greeting and deadpan expression doesn’t bother you. If anything, you’re glad that the Alhaitham you knew four years ago is not too different from Alhaitham now. “It’s better than not having a job. I didn’t expect them to accept me so fast, though. I thought they’d be more hung up with my rejection thing years ago. Old people and their grudges, y’know?”

Alhaitham doesn’t respond, used to your chattering. He meanders to the nearby bookshelf and brushes through. Your lips quirk into a small grin. “Thank the Archons that I have my very cute junior, who’s also the Acting Grand Sage and the previous Scribe, to help me adjust with my new work, huh?”

His fingers stop skimming. He glares over his shoulder. “Power tripping me on your first day? I’m calling human resources.”

Your shoulders shake when you laugh. His own kind of humor never ceases to amuse you. “Sorry. It’ll take some time… but I’ll get used to this. I promise.” 

A familiar and comfortable silence settles in the room. A few papers later, he finally picks the book he’s been looking for and turns to you. “Please do everyone a favor by going to Lambad’s Tavern tonight. Kaveh got into an altercation with another customer, and your presence would help tone down his temper. Tighnari and Cyno are also expecting you. Candace also mentioned that she hasn't gotten back to you since you last wrote to her, and she would love to catch up personally.”

Your lips smile at the mention of your old friends. Stretching your arms, you look out the window. The noise outside from Sumeru City barely hangs in the air with your office located so high up in the building. “News goes around real fast, doesn’t it? I’ve been keeping a low profile since last week and didn’t even tell anyone about my arrival. Not Kaveh. Not Cyno, not Tighnari, not Candace.” Your whisper, eyes downcast.

Alhaitham walks to the other side of your desk and crosses his arms. “The lack of funds for your organization wasn’t your fault, (Y/N). Whether it's because of the shift in power from the sages or not, incidents out of your control inevitably happen.”

You don’t ask why he knows the reason why you’re back here. Alhaitham always knew more than what he let on. “Don’t waste time being disappointed with yourself and focus on what you have now.”

You turn away, flustered from the sincere gaze of his bright virescent eyes. You take a sip of your warm coffee to hide your smile. “Thanks, Haitham. This is why you’re the best Acting Grand Sage.”

He rolls his eyes. The brewing tension disappears. “Make sure that I see you in the tavern no later than 10.”

The door softly closes when he leaves. For the first time in forever, this place starts to feel like home.

The lively, alcohol-drenched atmosphere in Lambad’s Tavern never changed. 

Years ago, you’d go day drinking whenever your assignments were returned for their fifth revision. If your whole class was lucky, most of your group mates and colleagues will be with you, equally drowning in their academic-induced sorrows.

The amber-brown colors of the sheets and the patrons who entered remained the same. Before you even reach the counter, someone already picks you up and spins you around in a hug. “Little one! I’ve heard from some patrons that you were back in town. It’s one of those rumors that I hoped to be true!” 

You giggle and embrace Lambad back, grateful for the older man’s warm welcome. 

“(Y/N)!” You’d recognize the forest ranger’s sweet voice anywhere. Tighnari jogs towards you and pulls you into a hug, tail wagging. You notice that he looks better compared to all those years ago when he was still in the Akademiya. “I’m sorry I couldn’t see you sooner. When Cyno told me there seemed to be an occupant in your house, I didn’t expect it to be you! ” 

Bitterness pangs in your heart. “I didn’t expect to be back either,” You say honestly. “Guess everyone needs a little break somehow.”

“Warn us next time, would you?” Cyno emerges behind his friend. “Be thankful that there was other urgent business to take care of. I was ready to… interrogate whoever was staying inside my friend’s house without their permission.”

“Yeah, yeah, got it, boss,” You shake your head and laugh. Three of you walk to a table near the windows. You’re happy to see everyone. And you’re glad to know that they’re also just as happy to see you. 

After a good hour of catching up, you feel your whole body relax and your jaw tense from laughing too hard at Tighnari’s anecdotes. Your emotions unwind like a fresh flower by the streams. 

“That blockhead doesn’t know what he’s talking about...  Where are they? The tavern is too crowded at this hour!” You turn to your left, looking for him. You wave excitedly when you see a tuft of blonde hair. 

His eyes widened. “(Y/N)?”

“Kaveh.”

“(Y/N)!”

“Kaveh!” The architect ran up and enveloped you in a hug. Since college, yours and Kaveh’s stupidity knew no bounds– it was always laughs and jokes between you. You stay in each other’s arms for a few moments, and the familiarity of his scent brings you relaxation. 

The night goes on as great as it started. 

“I can’t wait until I move out!” Kaveh exclaims. Two people from the other table look in his direction. Your other friends groan, used to his antics. 

You notice redness starting to come up on the blonde’s neck. “You’re being really loud for someone I thought didn’t want people knowing you live with him.” 

Cyno places down a card. Tighnari groans. “Don’t engage him. (Y/N). Or he won’t stop.”

“Yes! Yes,” Kaveh starts. All the other customers are busy with their own shouting and chattering. “Don’t get me wrong, I like the place. Alhaitham is a quiet roommate. I just can’t stand his attitude most of the time! If I wanted a lecture, I would’ve gone to the Akademiya and talked to my old professors.”

The blonde crosses his arms. “What about you, (Y/N)? I’m not going to lie, Alhaitham made a great recommendation of you being the Scribe. That’s the only thing I could commend him for this week, at least.” 

“What?” You weren’t aware of that. Your thumbs fiddle with your skirt. “Uh, yeah. I’ll make sure to thank him later.”

“Oh, sweet (Y/N), you’re to kiiiiiind,” He slurs. “I wish you were my roommate instead.”

Your best friend reaches to twirl your hair. In your drunken stupor, you giggle with a light blush painting your cheeks. 

A bottle clangs on the table. “Another one, please.”

A heavy presence sits beside you. You look, and Alhaitham was already downing a shot, throat bobbing. 

In the background, your friends laugh while Kaveh groans. 

Has Haitham always been this beautiful?

The silver-haired man looks at you. “Enjoying Kaveh’s tales?” 

“It’s always a fun story when you’re involved.” You giggle, flushing under his gaze. “Everything about you is so entertaining, Haitham.”

Your flushed face does something to his chest. He gives you another shot. “That’s why your colleagues used to look at you weird. Whenever Kaveh wasn’t around, you’d hang out with me, even when I clearly wanted to be alone,” He laments. 

“Says the one who used to follow me around like a puppy! We were mismatched weirdos,” You don’t notice the blush creep up on his cheeks. You smile at him earnestly, whispering. “I’m glad you didn’t change– oops!”

The chair creaks and you stumble into his arms. You look up, seeing his face and amber eyes close to yours. Heat emanates from the grip on your waist, and your hands feel hot on his chest. Sparks flew to your core. 

“Get a room! You know what, I’m staying in Cyno’s tonight. He never sleeps anyway,” Kaveh’s shouts break the stupor and you push Alhaitham away. He stumbled, and Cyno was on his side in an instant. “You heard him. Kaveh, it’s time for you to clock out. Tighnari, let’s continue this game next time.” 

The three of them exit the tavern. ‘Make Alhaitham pay the tab! He’s so unfair!’ Kaveh says, and Alhaitham begrudgingly does so when both of you have sobered enough to walk home. 

You don’t know if it’s the leftover alcohol in your system, but the night sky swirls above both of you. “Ah… I never knew… howmuchImissedbeinghere,” 

“Easy there,” He catches you again when you stumble. “Where are we going, Haitham?”

“To your place, of course. You’re exhausted from work. You need to rest.”

“What? But I thought…” Your mind goes blank. Alhaitham looks at you with hope in his eyes, but the light is gone in a split second. 

“You thought what?” When you don’t answer, he stops on his tracks. “You thought what, (Y/N)? Tell me.” 

“Nothing.” He looks away. You face him. “But… I think… my place is too far. Can we go to yours instead?” 

You seal your fate with those words.  

The heat from both of your bodies encapsulated the whole room. 

Alhaitham’s hands slowly grip your curves. Passion and lust melted into two souls that yearned for each other for so long. 

“Haitham…” You breathe out, shivering from his fingers ghosting on your skin. You feel like you’re on fire, and his warmth only served to fan your flames higher. 

“I wanted you for so long… you’re so beautiful…” He gasps, fumbling around your blouse buttons. Despite his rough kisses, he handles you gently– like porcelain glass, a gift getting unwrapped for the first time.  

When you finally undressed, Alhaitham almost couldn’t believe his eyes. 

The one woman he had been obsessed with, laid out before him. His for the taking. 

You shiver at his gaze. You hold out your hand, shaking from the cold. And arousal. “C-Come… Haitham… you can do whatever you want with me…”

And so he does. He climbs to your bed like a predator hunting the prey. You lie in wait as you let him take the lead. Kissing all over your breasts, suckling on your nipples, sending shivers to your core. You try to squeeze your legs for relief, but Haitham stops you by putting his knees in between your legs. 

He clicks his tongue. “You’ll only cum on my mouth, fingers, or cock tonight, baby.” 

You shudder at his words. Down he goes, settling himself between your soft thighs. You flush, your cunt surely eager and wet, aching for his touch. He licks a stripe in your pussy, and you moan. “H-haitham!”

He licks more eagerly, like a man starved. Never in a million years you’d ever thought that you would be this vulnerable and intimate. At the hands of your junior, no less. His face on your thighs and his mouth on your clit, sucking like you were his last meal. 

Your head was in the clouds. Your hands move to his head, tugging roughly. 

He growls. “You wanna play rough? I can play rough.”

You sigh. “Keep–going– Haitham…”

He spits on your cunt. He slurps on your mixed juices. “I-I’m close…” 

He stops and you whine. Your legs are pulled to the end of the couch, and you watch him as he fumbles with his clothes. When he finally emerges stark naked in front of you, you notice his large cock, angrily red at the tip. 

That won’t fit inside you. 

“Wait– Haitham!” He positions himself in front of your legs, rubbing his cock on your entrance. “Yes, baby?” 

“You– You might not fit inside me,” You flush deeper when he laughs. “I’m being serious!”

“We’ll never know if we don’t find out.” He enters you, and you moan. You try to cover your mouth from letting such embarrassing sounds come out, but he pins your arms above you. “I want to hear you.” 

He rocks into you, like two bodies connecting with each other have waited for a long time. 

Alhaitham observes your face, sketches it to his memory. The way your eyes glisten, and your mouth opens in pleasure. The curve of your hips and waist, the slope of your nose, the plush of your lips, and the tears in your eyes. You’ve grown into a fine young woman as he expected, and it was a blessing that you came home so unexpectedly. 

Your pussy is heavenly. All his teenage fantasies culminated to this one night– his childhood crush, sprawled out in his bed and legs open like a slut. He’ll make sure that your skin is marked all over. Let everyone know that you’re his, and no one else’s. 

“Haa… Feels so good…” You were equally drenched in sweat and your tears, pleasure overcoming your senses. You feel him suck your nipples again, sending you more pleasure to your core. 

“You’re so fucking tight– that’s it, baby, suck me in,” He groans, as you feel yourself tumbling over the edge. The coil in your stomach tightens and you moan, and it suddenly snaps– “Ah!” 

Your juices make a mess on his stomach, his thighs, and yours. You heave and gasp your breath, shivering. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, I’m here, you’re safe,” Warm arms envelop you, and you close your eyes.

You sleep soundly in Alhaitham’s arms. 

Time goes on, and your passionate meetings with Alhaitham are repeated. 

You gave yourself to him again, and again, and again. At his house, when Kaveh is away with his clients. In his study, when he’s stressed. On his couch, when both of you are drunk and give in to lust before going to the bedroom. For the past month, you can’t count how many times you woke up seeing the lush green of his windows and his warm body curled up around yours. 

His visits became frequent on your own study. He brings you coffee. You spend the whole day drafting and writing, and he reads his book in the corner of your room like a loyal attendant. 

It’s domestic. Sometimes, you often wonder what life will be if you decide to stay. 

(Is there a future with Alhaitham? You ask yourself one afternoon when you see the man sleeping on your mini desk. His silver hair softly flutters in the wind, and on his hand is a document you handed him to put by one of the bookshelves.

It would be good if he could join me in traveling the world. You stamp your last document for the day. 

You walk and place a kiss on his forehead to wake him up. “Work’s done, sweetie.” 

You would miss him terribly.)

One morning, your jolly footsteps alert people in the street. “Haitham!”  You whisper excitedly. The door opens, and you enter before he can even offer for you to come inside. “I got it!” 

He raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure what it is, but I’m proud of you.”

“I’m going back to Fontaine to teach! The stakeholders said there was an error in the calculations; they’re ready to fund my investment again!” You hug him tight. Joy pours out of your body. 

(You don’t notice him freeze.)

“I’m so happy… I honestly thought that this was the end of my life’s purpose…” You trail off. Alhaitham hugs you back. His grip tightens on your waist.

“I can finally come back to the kids in Fontaine…” You trail off when you see him looking far into the distance. 

You frown. You know better than most people that he’s not the most expressive person, but you thought that he would at least crack a smile for you. 

You hastily pull away from your hug. “I’m sorry for bothering you. I just wanted you to know first, since you’re… very special to me,” Your face was red from shame, and from not knowing how to describe your relationship with Alhaitham correctly. “I’ll go tell Tighnari and the others now.”

A beat passes. “(Y/N).” 

You turn around, hand clutching your bag. Alhaitham stands still on the doorway in the same position that you left him. 

Then, he smiles– crooked and ominous, like he was forcing himself.

Perhaps he is. 

A shiver goes down your spine. He speaks, confident and clear– like it wasn’t the most obvious lie. “I’m happy for you.” 

The door closes behind him. This time, your feet fight the urge to get out of this city as soon as possible.

 Your happiness ended as quickly as it came.

The newspaper plastered on the board of Port Ormos sits still despite the rough winds, like it knows how heavy the burden of the message it carries.

Yorun Investors dead on ambush

An Adventurer’s Guild member sighs, discouraged. A businessman– from Sneznhaya, you would assume from his attire– exclaims. “That would mean their investments are also cut off? Drat! Half of my businesses rely on their funding!”

People pile up to see the newsboard, collectively murmuring. You stand still, motionless. Bricks are piled on your hands and your feet. 

You can always find other investors, of course. Just like you did four years ago. 

How long would that take?

You walk home, absentminded. You pass by the Tavern, then the Akademiya. Walking by Alhaitham’s house doesn't even spark excitement inside you. Calling your other friends isn’t a choice, either.

You just want to wake up from this dream. 

When you arrived, Someone was waiting on your doorstep.

“Alhaitham?” Thesman stands up straight. How long was he waiting? “(Y/N), I apologize for how I acted yesterday. I hope you forgive me.” 

When you remain quiet, he continues. “I also heard about what happened. I don’t mean to mock you, (Y/N). I’m truly sorry to hear about it.” 

Tears start falling down your face, which turn into full, ugly sobs. He walks gently, as if you’ll break into pieces if he makes the wrong move. He holds up his arms. 

You bury your face in his chest and cry.

Living with Alhaitham was happier than you’d thought it would be. 

It’s been months since you took his embrace on your front porch. You spent sleepless nights with him, writing letters for every investor or kind soul who’s kind enough to fund your endeavors, even for a penny. 

You were desperate. If the higher ups knew the struggle you’re going through right now, you’re sure that they’re laughing at you. 

(Not that you cared. Alhaitham stayed up writing letters with you, and that’s all the support that you need.)

You waited, waited, and waited. Yet every reply was rejection. Your partner saw you break down, and he’s always there to pick you back up. 

His clothes are strewn all over your house, as if he lives there now. 

“Coffee?” He offers. You nod. A giggle comes out of your mouth when you see a purple hickey on his neck, barely covered by his shirt.

It’s been months since he heard your laugh. He stops stirring the cup he’s prepared for you. Alhaitham looks back, says sincerely, “I’m glad you stayed.” 

An uncomfortable feeling brews once again. You tell yourself that you’ll get used to it. 

You still have hope that one day, your feet will step out again to reach your dreams.

But for now, everything that you need in Sumeru City. The perfect partner, an authentic group of friends, a beautiful community, and a stable (but boring) job.

You’ll never have to venture out again. 

(The evergreen shrubs outside your house starts to grow.)

“She’s settling in well?” 

“Yes, she’s resting,” Alhaitham sits on the makeshift chair. Ghandarva Ville was far, but it’s where less people are around. Besides, no one would dare trespass in Tighnari’s personal home. 

“You owe me a favor,” Cyno crosses his arms. “Finding the investor’s carriage was not difficult. They’re pretty famous. But erasing traces is a piece of work. I’m lucky that no one was within the area. Not that they could catch me, anyway.”

The door opens. Tighnari brushes off dirt from his clothing, having come back from burning the investor’s bloodied clothes. He sees the grey-haired man relaxing by his couch. “Are you smiling? Don’t smile. You look weird. Also everything is done, reduced to ashes. What’s our payment, Acting Grand Sage?”

Alhaitham hums, and everything fades into the background. He thinks of you lounging in your home, watering your plants, and decorating your journal. Just like how it’s supposed to be, in the first place. He even cleaned some parts of your house so that you don’t exhaust yourself too much upon your first day.

Thank the Archons that he has the perfect partner, an authentic group of friends, a beautiful community, and a stable job. 

(Y/N) will never have to venture out again. 

Ever. 

[bobbertskeetz]

Hi! How are You? Hope u are good.

Can I request Spencer with a reader that had unsub parents? It can be female ir male

You can ignore this is You want! Thank u for hearing me

I'm so sorry for the delay on this request, I'm crap at trying to come up with unsub plot lines but I hope this somewhat lives up to the imagine you had envisioned my love !! Thanks a million for the request and I hope you enjoy <3

ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ꜰᴀᴍɪʟɪᴇꜱ ꜱ.ʀ x ɢɴ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Summary: After half a decade, Spencer's worst fears are assumed to come true...

Themes/Warnings: gn!reader, pre-established relationship, mentions of kidnapping, unsub parents, angst, general themes and violence of the show. | PSA!! This imagine is loosely based on Mosely Lane |

You hated having your picture taken. The knowledge that you could never truly have control over what will be done with it haunts you even to this day.

The physical danger may be gone, but your memory, one which was shared with the many children who, unfortunately, found themselves locked away behind the dingy cellar door, forever remains.

Spencer knew of the horror stories. Of course he did. You made it your mission to tell him yourself before one of his FBI buddies could find out for themselves. However, hearing the admissions fall from your mouth did nothing to soothe Spencer's fear and anger. Fear, for your safety. Anger, for the knowledge that you lived in fear for the majority of your life. Anger, for the knowledge that the only thing separating you from your parents was a couple layers of cement and a cell door. He knew first hand just how ineffective prison can be for victims safety - if an unsub wanted to achieve something or other, all it took was speaking with the right person. He hated that he knew that.

Especially when he received a token in the mail.

A small parcel, barely the size of his palm. A little thin package addressed to Whom It May Concern. Assuming nothing of it, he opened it. You had already left for work, bidding him his goodbye kiss and promising a home cooked meal by the time he returned from the office. There was no sense in waiting until you were both home to open it, what if it was urgent?

And so he did.

And oh how he wished he never had.

There in his hand, sat a small polaroid of a child. At first, he didn't recognise you - for the ten years he had known you, and the five you spent living together, you have all but refused to dig up any childhood photographs. However, the longer he stared, the more he noticed your teary eyes. Your scrunched nose and furrowed brows. The same expression you wear to this day when you wake from a nightmare, when you watch a scary movie, and when you first told him of the horror house your parents ran. When you told him of the polaroids you were forced to take of your 'brothers' and 'sisters', and of your task of lugging those who disobeyed your mother to the crematorium.

Yet you'd failed to tell him that your picture was taken along with the other victims. That your little face had been a part of the morbid photo album which remained in the evidence case. Perhaps you didn't know? Did you even remember having this picture taken, you couldn't have been more than 7 years old. Spencer felt sick. Suddenly, it dawned on him what he was holding. How did he come to have this. Who had left this at your shared doorstep. They knew where you lived.

They knew where you lived.

He just about caught the bile in his throat before he felt his pocket buzz.

Struggling to pull his gaze from the omen in his hand, he reached for his phone and answered, failing to see the caller ID.

"Reid?"

"Yeah. Hotch I know, but I might be a bit late."

Before he could provide a half-assed excuse to buy himself some time - time to think on how he was to go about bringing this up to you and the team - Hotch beat him to it.

"Reid," His voice was solemn, yet calculated, "We've received a package. Well - JJ has."

"It's them Hotch."

The silence was pregnant. Deafening.

"I know."

--

Your foot shook, in a desperate attempt to self-soothe. The fluorescent glow of the BAU was straining your eyes, leaving a slight pound in your temples. However, the main focus of your stress induced headache remained on the ambiguity surrounding as to why David Rossi appeared at your work to escort you to Quantico. And why your boyfriend has locked himself and Aaron away in the conference room for the last forty minutes. You were scared. You couldn't let it show, you'd learnt that the hard way. But, in a room full of profilers, it was hard to hide - you were convinced that they could all genuinely smell fear.

In fact, your fear was so prominent, you failed to hear Morgan calling your name until he was crouched in front of you.

"How bout we go into Reid now, huh?" You met his eye only briefly.

Carefully, you chose your next words, "Will you all tell me what's going on?" Pleading with your eyes, Morgan felt his stomach twist.

"C'mon sweetheart."

You didn't take much convincing. All you wanted was Spencer, to curl up into him and forget all about this disruption to your day. Part of you began to wonder if you were being completely over dramatic and misreading the situation, maybe he had a surprise for you. A date? But you knew, in your gut you knew. They'd come back to haunt you. Why else would this dread be bubbling in your stomach?

Derek opened the door for you, leading you gently by the shoulder. There, you saw your boyfriend, bent over the table resting his hands on either side of what looked to me scraps of paper. His sleeves had been messily pushed up over his elbows, top button undone and his hair was tussled, a tell-tale sign that he had been pushing his hands through his curls. But for why? You still didn't truly know.

He looked up. His stomach dropped.

Wringing your fingers together, you stood before him with a sheepish look across your face. He knew you suspected something, something bad. And maybe you were right. It still didn't make telling you any easier.

"C'mere honey," He held his arm out to you, inviting you to slot into his chest, "Can you look at these with me? I'm right here."

You wished you'd stayed at work.

There on the table in front of you, sat three polaroids. One, you recognised to be Laney, the girl you had befriended for years. The photo, you had taken of her, as you had of all the others, to keep in an album. Why? You didn't know. Proof? Maybe a part of you knew that one day the horror would stop, and you'd need to show someone some day what had happened in your house. Someone had to remember all those who couldn't survive. Like your Laney.

The other two forced your head to bury itself into Spencer's chest; one, was of your bedroom, or rather your cell, and one of you. Little you. When it was taken, who had taken it? You weren't so sure. Laney? Your father? Everything was a fuzzy mess of guilt, shame and fear, so much so you couldn't remember the half of it.

The one thing you knew for certain, you remembered hating having that photo taken. For what reason? You couldn't place. But you did know that to this day, you still hated having your picture taken. That would never change.

"Where did you find these?" He almost missed your words completely, you spoke so softly, voice strained and distant.

A shaky breath left his lips.

"They found us angel, I'm so sorry."

Your heart lurched. Surely you had heard him wrong. You asked him, silently begging you had indeed misheard, but to your horror, that just was not the case.

Just then, JJ stepped forward, a small piece of paper outstretched to you, "Spence received the one of you at your home. We were sent the other two here, along with this note."

Shakily, you grasped for the paper, sparing Spencer a short glance before guiding your eyes to the words scrawled out in front of you.

Your old home address, a date and time. A demand for you to be there alone, or you would be 'collected' regardless of your showing up or not.

Your head spun, had it not been for Spencer's firm grasp around your waist, you were sure you'd have collapsed then and there.

Tears welled up as your eyes locked with his. His own frown matching the drop in your stomach.

They were back. You both knew it, and for once, Spencer didn't have all the answers.

[loggiepj]

illicit affairs

Summary: What happens if you fall in love with a married woman? Nothing good, of course.

"If you ever dare tell him or anyone about us, I swear to God I will tell everyone how good of a liar you are."

 

YOU DIDN'T intend to fall in love with a married person.

It was the last thing on your mind. You'd never put yourself in such a dangerous position — destroying what happy couples had. If only the old you could see you right now, she would have thrown you off a cliff in an instant.

She was the wife of your Classic Literature professor — Wanda.

She had the most mesmerizing greenest eyes you had ever seen, the kind you want to just spend hours or even days just staring into. Long brown hair that would cascade down to her shoulders and back, the kind that falls into place like dominoes as she'd run her fingers through her hair, as if she never needed a comb in her life.

You and Wanda first met when Vision, your professor and her loving husband, asked you to drop the book reviews he instructed the class to do for the day.

It was just a simple meeting. No out of the ordinary. There were few exchanges of smiles between you and Wanda as you handed the papers to Vision. Then you left.

The second meeting was somewhat rather different. You knew you should focus at what Vision was saying at that moment but your eyes could only betray you as they darted towards the revealing creamy legs of the woman sitting in front of Vision's desk.

You didn't mean to ogle. But you swore Wanda raise her skirt rather intentionally to reveal more when she noticed you looking.

The third meeting was the awaited moment, the actual beginning of the book where the protagonist meets the love of her life.

Vision was nowhere to be found. And in his desk, sitting on his chair was his wife.

"Vision left for a meeting," Wanda said as she stood, making her way towards you.

"Good afternoon, Miss Stark."

"Oh, please, call me Wanda."

Wanda approached you, her perfume lingering in your nose as she took the papers from your hands.

"Y/n, right?"

You nodded back.

There was an awkward silence as you both just stood there silently, a weird tension you couldn't comprehend. Or maybe you were only imagining things.

Like a curious child, you didn't know what to do. Wanda seemed like she was having fun on the other hand as she watched you struggle. Her eyes finally took mercy as she began peering through the papers.

"Mmmm, Anna Karenina. What do you think of it?"

Your brows furrowed deeper. "About the book?"

Wanda only nodded as she stepped closer, making you swallow a nervous gulp.

"Well, I think it's one of the greatest works of literature ever written."

She stopped. "And do you think it's appropriate? What she did with Vronsky appropriate?"

"No . . . She's married and—"

"Even when it was an arranged marriage to a man beyond her years whom she didn't love?" Wanda interrupted.

"Even so, I don't think it's still right. Although I couldn't blame Anna if I were in her shoes and I lived in the 1800s, the heart doesn't follow the laws in marriage. And the law doesn't apply to love."

There was a small pause. Wanda's eyes met yours and you had never seen it in the deepest and darkest shades of green before.

"You're an interesting student, Y/n, you know that right?"

"Interesting how, ma'am?"

A smirk only grew on her face. But before she could reply, Vision suddenly entered the room.

"Oh, Y/n, I'm sorry, I got caught up in an unexpected meeting." He took the papers from his wife as he left a kiss on her cheek. You said it was okay as you bid goodbye to both, to Wanda rather hesitantly.

 

"VISION'S looking for a nanny," Kate suddenly announced when she arrived at the table. You and your friends were in the cafeteria for lunch. "He's basically  convincing his students to apply, handing out flyers. Don't you think it's a bit unprofessional?"

You didn't think it was unprofessional. You thought it was an opportunity, a blessing in disguise. But of course, you didn't tell your friends that.

 

SO, THERE you were sitting in Stark's two-storey house playing video games with their twins on the living room carpet. You couldn't complain choosing this work over some part time job you had at a local comic book store, considering Vision was paying you more.

You thought it was a consensus agreement between the two of them though but when you met Wanda's widened eyes later that night upon seeing you with her kids, as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing, you had thought wrong.

Wanda and Vision had a fight that night too, about why Vision hired one of his students for the job. It wasn't your business, but you'd probably be fired from the job after that night.

When you had already tucked the boys in their bed, the house had now gone completely silent. You quietly prepared yourself to get home. Hurriedly leaving the house you shouldn't have come in the first place, you accidentally bumped into Wanda in the hallway.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't looking—"

"No, I should be the one who's sorry. Forgive me, Y/n. You shouldn't have heard all the things you probably heard earlier. I was just not expecting him to actually do it."

"It's okay, ma'am. I don't really mind. And I needed the money anyway." Technically, it wasn't a lie.

There was a short moment of silence before you smiled and bid goodbye. Wanda stopped you the very second you stepped out the door.

"What time will you be here tomorrow?" she asked.

You swallowed as she walked closer. "I. . . I don't remember Professor mention to babysit tomorrow."

"Well, I will be out for business the whole day tomorrow and the twins need picking up from the school. But if you're busy, I can just ask—"

"—No, it's completely fine, I can do it—"

"Are you sure? I don't want to impose," she said as she suddenly arranged the collar of your shirt. The feather like touch of her fingertips against your skin made you almost internally combust. "I don't want you missing out on your studies."

Your cheeks must have gone red the entire time as you eagerly shook your head.

"It's surely not a problem, Miss Stark."

"If you say so. I'll see you tomorrow then. And please . . . call me Wanda."

Little did you know you'd start calling her other endearing names two weeks later.

 

YOU STARTED becoming close to Wanda the following days when you're babysitting their twins. With interesting conversations at night whenever she and her husband got home, it was a miracle how you'd never seem to run out of topics. And in the University as well, what with her regular presence in Vision's office, it would appear as though you and Wanda couldn't handle to spend some time apart from each other.

Your friends had teased you about taking the babysitter job, of course. But they were more concerned about Vision, truly unaware that your intentions were elsewhere, that a certain brunette has plagued your mind for days, that you were so head over heels over your professor's wife.

No, they had no idea about the nights you two had spent together talking, or the prolonged touches that ignited the wick of most carnal desires in your head, or the way she slurred your name behind you as she taught you how to bake the cookies the twins liked. Of how you could almost taste her. No, they certainly had no idea.

But of course, falling in love with a married woman wasn't an easy task.

You weren't supposed to be entering Vision's office without knocking. But being used to be always welcomed in there, you didn't expect Vision to be preoccupied with his wife.

There they were kissing passionately, Wanda on top of his desk while Vision in front of her. Your sight immediately darkened. You hurriedly apologized and left the room.

Vision talked to you the next day about what happened, and how sorry he was for not being professional. He was talking about trying to resolve the cruel woes of a married life but you had already stopped listening when she mentioned Wanda started what happened yesterday.

You asked to take absence from the babysitting job for a while, saying that you needed to focus on the upcoming midterms. Vision said he understood, never questioning how it was more important than the exams.

Fortunately, you didn't have to go to Vision's office anymore. Ever since the incident, Vision never instructed you to.

That was why you had more free time on a Saturday night, making you agree to your friend's invite to another college party. Plus, you needed to move on from something that wasn't even there in the first place.

You met some girl that night too. But you were too drunk to remember the name. She was kissing you against the wall in the dark alley, or even more as you heard your belt being unbuckled.

"Stop," you muttered with a weak voice.

But the girl didn't seem to hear you. She might have taken it as a moan as she hastily fastened the way she was devouring you that moment.

You pulled away from her face as you tried to say it louder. "I can't do this here—"

And then there was a blur before you as the girl was suddenly shoved away. You didn't get to see what happened next because darkness had already enveloped your surroundings.

 

YOU WOKE up in a nearby motel wearing clothes you knew weren't yours. You were starting to hyperventilate, millions of thoughts running through your head, scolding your past self that this was what's going to happen when you get drunk.

It only stopped when Wanda entered the room.

"Miss Stark?"

"What the hell do you think you're doing making out with strangers in dark alleyways?"

You hadn't seen her mad before. Of course, you had heard her yelling during her arguments with Vision, but never towards you.

"You could have been—... you could have been—"

Suddenly, memories from last night quickly swarmed back into your head. How someone was about to take you out in public.

"I'm so sorry," you said back so softly, holding back tears. "I . . . I didn't mean to get too much drunk."

Wanda let out a sigh, calming herself down, as she carefully approached you then sat on the corner of the bed.

When you started crying, you felt her hand slithered around yours, squeezing you with assurance and safety you didn't know you needed.

"Hey, it's okay now," she said. "You're alright now. And that's what matters."

Then Wanda leaned forward, engulfing you into a hug as you cried into her chest. She rubbed circles soothingly on your back, murmuring sweet nothings as if she was more than just your professor's wife.

"You're safe now. I'm here. I'll always be here."

You didn't know what she meant by that, but through the days that followed, you finally understood.

You started to return as the twins' babysitter a week after the incident. Wanda insisted she'd been having a hard time finding someone to replace you. So you finally relented and caved in.

And one night, one lonely sensual night, it all made sense.

Wanda just got home from work. Vision was away for a professors retreat and wouldn't be back until the following day.

"In a hurry to get rid of me?" Wanda chuckled as she poured herself a glass of white wine. You had just tucked the kids in their bed.

You apologized. "Sorry, my friends are just having this party and I . . . Well, they set me up to meet with someone there—"

You jumped when you heard glass breaking. Upon seeing the source, how red looked so much darker unto the white kitchen counter, your feet instinctively darted towards the bathroom to get the first aid kit.

When you got back into the kitchen carrying the bag, Wanda finally spoke. "It's fine, Y/n. It's just a scratch—"

"No way that's just a scratch." You pulled her hand regardless and started to tend to it like a professional. You had been trained to do this back in highschool as a volunteer. Good thing it wasn't an open wound. You gently rolled the gauze around her hand after you had finished dabbing some alcohol on the wound, unaware that Wanda has never let her eyes leave you.

"There. All done." You smiled then looked at Wanda, finally noticing the distance between the two of you was too inexistent. You swallowed a nervous lump, not realizing you were still holding her injured hand. You let go rather reluctantly and you swore you could see the disappointment on her face.

"Y/n," Wanda called softly.

"Yes?" Avoiding her gaze, you busied yourself cleaning the mess.

"I don't think I can do this anymore."

"What do you mean?"

And as you lifted your head to look at her, Wanda was already starting to lean forward. Suddenly, you couldn't breathe, rendering you immobile as the gap between the two of you was reduced to an inch.

"I'm about to do something stupid," Wanda said. "But please, don't push me away or tell me you don't want the same thing."

Then she kissed you. And of course, you didn't push her away. The kiss was just a soft one, so feather like that you thought maybe you were only dreaming it. And you didn't want it to end. But before you could respond to the kiss, Wanda had abruptly pulled away.

"I'm sorry," Wanda said as she turned her back at you to leave.

Suddenly you forgot why you were there, that Wanda was a married woman and that you shouldn't even be doing what you were going to do. You followed Wanda to tell her you felt the same, that you had wanted her all this time but she had already gone upstairs and locked herself in the bedroom.

 

YOU HADN'T heard from Wanda since. Vision said they had found another babysitter so you could just relax for the meantime before the upcoming exams. But relaxing was the last thing on your mind at the moment.

Determined to get another taste, you knocked into Wanda's door one night. And fortunately, she was the one who opened it.

"Why would you do that when you're gonna avoid me afterwards?" you asked. Demanded, to be exact.

Wanda was surprised at your behavior but she maintained her stance.

"Who's at the door, dear?" Vision's voice came through the hallway.

"No one, Vis. Just a prank," Wanda answered as she kept her eyes on you.

You couldn't believe what you just heard, but maybe it was all a prank, just some stupid thing that should have never happened. You opened your mouth to speak, to tell her that it didn't mean anything to you so it would hurt her too. But you hesitated. It was rather easy to pretend nothing happened that night rather than convince someone that you would reciprocate the advances presented to you.

When you heard nearing footsteps coming from the house, probably from Vision, you hurriedly left.

Little did you know what awaited you later that night when you come back into your dorm room. Putting on your pajamas as you get yourself ready for bed, you didn't expect someone to knock at a very late hour. You were determined to fight with whoever it was outside the door because you were still filled with rage caused by a certain brunette.

It was Wanda, looking worried and anxious.

"Forgive me" was all she said as she quickly barged through the door and pushed herself against you. The frustration you could have fired back immediately dissipated, as if the touch of her skin against yours was a drug that could cure any negative feelings, any hatred you had for the woman.

You did more than just kiss that night. You performed a sacred dance against your sheets, worshipping her, drinking her as if you had been suffering from drought for ages. It surprised you how eager and deprived Wanda was as she pushed your head between her exposed thighs, begging you to touch her. And you were very compliant.

It didn't stop from there.

The blazed nights continued through the days that followed, each day met with unsatiated hunger. It was either in your dorm room or in the guest bedroom of her house, the house she shared with Vision, the guy she's married to.

You weren't an idiot. You knew what you were. You were that exact person you had despised your entire life as you watched news and heard gossips about married life, never expecting how hard it really was now that you're wearing the shoes of the mistress.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Wanda asked one night as she noticed you stop responding back to her desperate kisses, her straddling on top of your hips as she craved for another round.

"What are we, Wanda?"

Wanda didn't answer for a moment. She took ahold of her ragged breathing, calmed herself down as she cupped your face to look up at her.

Pressing your foreheads together, she whispered as if she was scared anyone could hear her confession. "I don't know. I just know that I want to be here with you."

And that was good enough for you. For a while, anyway.

 

YOU AND Wanda spent more time than the usual nights of fulfilled desires. You had conversations about what your future would look like after murmuring tiny i love yous post bliss from your love making. Whenever you finished your classes, you'd immediately go to the Stark's house and spend time with Wanda in the kitchen as she prepared for dinner. If you two weren't that careful enough, either Tom or Billy would caught you stealing kisses in the kitchen counter. You became a regular to their household, unbeknownst to Vision, who thought you only needed the babysitting job more now that you're graduating.

Your friends started to worry about you when they finally found out about the affair. They thought it was overrated and wrong, falling in love with a married person. You were a believer of that too. And it made you hate yourself as you looked at yourself in the mirror, as you listened to Vision's classes and saw how enthusiastic he still was, not knowing you were worshipping her wife on your knees.

You weren't stupid. You had attempted to discuss it with Wanda, even one time you thought you had begged.

"End it with him please," you asked, as she rode the silicone toy between your legs. "Be with me. Be mine, Wanda, and only mine."

Wanda gasped as she eagerly nodded, looking at your eyes with hooded ones as her fingers dug through the back of your scalp and shoulder.

"Yes?"

"Yes, Y/n, I'm yours and only yours."

And you thought she really was and that she would finally end it. But maybe it was just the wonderful effects of orgasmic pleasure that made her think you two would be more than just an illicit affair.

 

THEN IT happened. The one thing that finally extinguished the guilt you had been carrying for months. The one thing you thought would finally save you and Wanda.

Vision had been kissing another professor from the university rather passionately when you entered his office one unexpected afternoon. He begged and begged for you not to tell her wife about it, pleading you he'd tell her eventually and that he just needed some time.

But that was not what you did.

The first thing you did when you saw Wanda was told her about what Vision did. Desperation and selfishness could do such a thing.

You thought she'd finally wake up and get some sense that staying in that marriage would only worsen the consequences. But you had thought wrong when you woke up in your bedroom and Wanda wasn't there beside you.

Through the days that followed, Wanda had never replied to any of your messages or calls. When you went to knock on their door, nobody would answer.

Is that it?

Is that how she ends things?

When you saw Vision in class the next day, it appeared as if nothing happened, as if he didn't just commit a sinful act like his wife did. Vision was still wearing his wedding ring as if nothing happened.

So it killed you to ask about Wanda.

"She's okay, Y/n," Vision said hurriedly, as if he wanted to get rid of you and the conversation. "What happened shouldn't have happened. And we've agreed to save our marriage for the sake of our kids. And sorry, but we no longer need a babysitter. I hope you understand we need privacy at the moment."

You thought whether Vision finally found out about you and Wanda's affair or maybe he was just angry at you for telling her about his own affair.

 

BUT YOU were too adamant to find out. So when it was their twins' birthday, where you remembered how Wanda wanted just a house celebration for their day, you bought a nice gift for the twins and went to their house without an invitation.

Luckily, the house was open to guests that you found yourself invisible as you went inside the house.

You could see Wanda from a distance, chatting with some guests as she drank a glass of white wine in her hand, the hand that still wore her wedding ring. You knew you should be mad but you missed the woman so much that you only wished to touch her and kiss her, to feel her against you.

When yours and Wanda's eyes met, time slowed down. As if this moment was it — the start of another chapter or the ending of the book that was your love affair.

"What are you doing here?" was what greeted you in the kitchen as you busied yourself getting some refreshments. You knew she'd excuse herself and follow you. You could feel her breath at the back of your neck, wondering if she was eye fucking you in the revealing dress you decided to wear for her that day.

"That's something I didn't expect coming out of your mouth after weeks of not seeing and talking to each other."

You faced her this time and drank a gulp from your cup, suddenly feeling emboldened.

Wanda could only sneer as if in disgust but you mistook it as challenged.

"You're not invited. I think you should just leave."

You frowned. "Why? After all that I've done for you and your twins. I'm sure they'd be happy I'm here on their special day—"

"I need you to leave, Y/n."

"Why so hostile? I haven't done anything wrong."

Wanda paused for a moment as she let some guests pass their way.

Then you got serious. "I thought you'd end it with him."

This time she glared at you, her nostrils flaring. "Do you think I'm that stupid, Y/n?"

"I never thought of it—"

"Do you think I'd believe some kid over my good of a husband that he could do such a thing towards me?"

And your whole world just crumbled. "What?"

"Vision told me everything. You're so good, so desperate to have me that you would concoct such a creative story."

"I didn't make it up. It was true. He was cheating—"

"Shut your mouth," she hissed, turning her head to see if you two were still alone.

"I can't believe you won't believe me," you said aloud, more to yourself than directed at her.

Wanda exhaled as she took a step back from you. "Besides the point, I'm trying to save our marriage by putting a stop into this nonsense—"

"Nonsense?" you asked incredulously. "You literally had your tongue and fingers inside me not two weeks ago."

Wanda flared again and cornered you, her fingers wrapping the front of your dress. "You better shut your mouth or else—"

"Or else what?"

You thought you'd broken her resolve as she stared at you. You thought the look on her eyes was hunger and longing. You thought she'd kiss you like she always did. But you had thought wrong. You'd thought wrong all this time.

"You might not believe me," you spat on her face. "But does Vision believe how innocent and faithful you were of a wife?"

"You wouldn't dare." Her grip tightened around you and you wished you hadn't worn that dress.

You were almost crying, but you stopped yourself as you fought back. You didn't want her to see how weak you were.

"What if I might?"

"If you ever dare tell him or anyone about us," Wanda went on, her face only an inch or less from your face, lips barely touching, "I swear to God I will tell everyone how good of a liar you are."

You searched her eyes if she meant it. If she was only bluffing. And you wished she were.

But the hatred and distaste in her tongue proved otherwise.

"You would be expelled," she whispered. "Legal actions would be taken against you, for creating such false gossip between married couple. No one would hire you with your records. And no one," she paused, her thumb tracing your lower lip, "no one would trust you. I'm sure you don't want that, right?"

You hadn't seen this side of Wanda. And maybe this was what your friends were warning you all along, that married couples weren't meant to be dealt with.

The woman you loved so much turned into someone you wouldn't thought would ever do something cruel to you.

"You wouldn't," you said but you didn't sound sure anymore.

Wanda finally let go and stepped back from you. "I'd do anything for my family."

And you wished the ground would just swallow you whole. Fortunately, that ground was in some sort of a guest interrupting Wanda as she asked for some paprika spice.

Before Wanda left to tend to the guest, she whispered so low that only you could hear, "Don't do anything stupid I wouldn't do."

But you weren't listening anymore. All became white noise as you looked at your surroundings. You were frozen on the spot, suddenly realizing you didn't belong there at all.

And what little of dignity left inside you fuelled your legs and feet to move on their own accord. You left their house silently, promising yourself you'd never ever dare set foot unto that house again as long as you lived.

 

YOU DELETED her number, your photos together, any memories that the two of you ever shared. You requested to transfer to another dorm just to eradicate the nights you spent with Wanda in your old room. Your friends were helpful. If it weren't for them, you wouldn't have lasted another two months until you left that shithole of a place.

You never dared to be alone with Vision, nor cared when you still saw him and that professor locking tongues together. You just needed to leave. To forget that you just got your heart broken by someone you shouldn't have been having affairs in the first place.

And that day finally came. It was graduation day and you never thought Wanda would come but she was there, in all her glory.

"Don't worry, Y/n, we won't let her come near you," Kate promised. But the fear inside you only worsened. What if she'd tell everyone in the university how much of a slut you were?

You couldn't believe you could ever love someone so empty as your eyes finally met. Time didn't slow down this time.

You were the first to look away as it already pained you how stupid you were.

When the ceremony was over, you immediately left the venue as if scared Wanda could still make a scene if she wanted to.

Something inside you urged to go to the comfort room to get changed first before heading back to your dorm. So you did just that.

And when you were already leaving through the front doors after changing, there Wanda was with her back at you already waiting outside, her neck craned around her searching for something. As if she was looking for you.

You could have just done it. You could have just walked outside and talked to her.

But you couldn't, not after what she did.

You stepped back from the door and went to another exit instead, vowing to yourself never to come back.

Author's Note: Not sure I'd be writing a part two for this because I just want to read angsty stuff nowadays 😂😂😂😭😭😭

[cherienymphe]

Teenage Dirtbag XV

JJ Maybank x Reader x Rafe Cameron

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, abusive relationship, domestic violence, mentions of violence (+ gun violence), gun kink, dacryphilia, attempted murder, blood, semi public sex,  jealousy, manipulation, infidelity, underage drinking, drug use, canon ages, kook!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

➥ series masterlist

summary: You’re charmingly spoiled. You’re too kind for your own good. You’re the princess of Figure 8 …and you’re way out of JJ Maybank’s league, but when he realizes that Rafe Cameron’s pride and joy is actually a bruised and battered damsel, he’s determined to save you.

Your rescue just comes with a price.

⭑

“Mother, please…”

Your parents and Rafe found your exasperation amusing, your back vibrating from the feel of his soft chuckle as you leaned against him. The blond wrapped his arms around you as your mother quietly pleaded for ‘just one more’. Your father wasn’t on your side on today of all days, and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

“You know how she gets,” he told you. “Let her have this.”

“It’s just Midsummers,” you said to them. “We do this every year.”

You tried not to let your unenthusiastic thoughts slip through too much, but where there was once a time you loved Midsummers, you mostly just wanted to get the night over with now. It still brought you joy—this you wouldn’t deny—but it wasn’t the same as it used to be. You used to look forward to it, and while you enjoyed getting dolled up and seeing your parents’ friends as they asked about you, you didn’t enjoy smiling in everyone’s faces and gushing over how happy you were with Rafe.

You looked forward to the food and drinks and floating around in a beautiful dress, but you didn’t look forward to Rafe’s hand on your waist all night. You didn’t look forward to laughing along as countless people wondered when Rafe planned on popping the question. You didn’t look forward to posing for countless pictures.

…as you were currently doing.

“Mother,” you sighed.

“You should be used to this by now,” she softly laughed. “…and grateful because I’m going to be far worse than you could ever imagine on your wedding day.”

Your stomach twisted at that, and you swallowed down bile just as Rafe tightened his arms around you.

“Stop being such a brat and just let your mom take the picture.”

His voice was quiet as his lips grazed your ear, and you kept a smile on your face as he straightened again. The older woman made a noise of approval, and you felt no relief when she was finally done. You glanced at Rafe just as your mother turned to your father to discuss the best ones, face even as your boyfriend adjusted your necklace.

He’d just bought it.

“Just stop smiling,” he murmured. “You look like you’re being tortured.”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

Rafe paused, staring you down for a moment before a small smirk made its way onto his lips. Dropping one arm, the other hand moved towards your face, touching your red lips.

“Cute…”

“We’ll meet you both there,” your father said over his shoulder as he walked your mother to his car. “…and please don’t forget to set the alarm. I think someone broke into our pool house.”

His words made your heart drop, and you whipped your head around to stare at the older man with wide eyes.

“What?” you said, voice uneven.

Your father made a gesture with his hand like he was scolding himself for forgetting to tell you that.

“Yeah, I went in there the other day looking for my golf clubs, and it just looked…off. Lived in,” he said, opening the car door. “I might install a camera or two, I don’t know.”

They bid you both goodbye, none the wiser to the internal turmoil he’d just caused, and you swallowed just as Rafe started to pull you back inside. You heard him scoff.

“Probably some Pogue looking to mooch,” he snidely commented, making his way to your father’s bar. “Typical.”

Clearing your throat, you grabbed your purse.

“It’s probably nothing,” you found yourself murmuring. “Besides, it’s a pool house, not exactly The Hilton.”

“Babe, your fucking basement would be like The Ritz to those people,” Rafe said with a shake of his head as he downed a quick drink. “You think too highly of them and their lack of standards.”

You really didn’t want Rafe of all people to preach to you about standards, and you huffed.

“Do you plan on driving there drunk or…?”

Rafe was in a lighter mood today, and so that actually brought a chuckle out of him. Pouring one more drink out of your father’s bottle, he made his way to you. When he kissed you, you could taste the alcohol on his lips, and you watched him pull away to empty the glass.

“I need something in my system if I’m going to be around my family and their friends all night. Especially Rose’s book club women,” he said with a shudder, guiding you out after setting the alarm.

You were almost to his truck when he stopped you, forcing you to face him. You felt nervous as you looked at the blond because you had no idea what he was thinking nor what was about to come out of his mouth. You rested your hands on his arms as he pulled you closer, his own hands comfortable at the small of your back. His blue gaze flitted between your own.

“Try to lose the pout, alright?” he said to you. “Your knee is much better, your nose is practically like new, and you look good enough to eat.”

Rafe leaned in, gently pressing his lips to your cheek.

“Things could always be worse,” was what he said to you when he pulled away, a hint of a threat in his voice as he stared into your eyes.

Yes, you supposed that was true, and you allowed him to walk you to the passenger door.

You didn’t know what Ward had said to him exactly, but you couldn’t ignore the restraint Rafe had practiced for weeks, now. You didn’t know if Ward had legitimately found something to scare him with or if it was a conversation that went more along the lines of ‘at least wait for her to fully recover’. You realized that your thoughts were bordering along something much worse than praising a fish for swimming, but it was relieving to not have to deal with Rafe’s violence and especially for this length of time.

The reprieve was almost enough to make you feel bad for seeing JJ behind his back.

Almost.

“I almost didn’t recognize you.”

The dark-haired girl turned to look at you, her confusion dying down as she placed the face to the voice. Kie weighed your words over in her mind, head slightly tilting from side to side before a small smile adorned her face.

“I know that’s meant as a compliment, so I’ll take it as one,” she said, taking her drink from the bartender. “I look like an uppity Kook princess…no offense.”

You didn’t take any offense to it.

“I know you wouldn’t dare be caught dead here willingly,” you commented, and Kie rolled her eyes over to her mom.

The woman was talking to your mom, a third woman with them that you didn’t recognize.

“It’s amazing how you know me so much better than my own mom,” she snidely replied, taking a sip of her punch. “She keeps waiting for me to ‘grow up’ as she puts it…”

You felt her eyes on you as the bartender finally gave you your own drink. You discreetly shook your head when he asked if you wanted anything else in it, the man no doubt familiar with how underage attendants got their way around here. At Kie’s surprised look, you spoke.

“I still take painkillers, so…”

The tan girl nodded at that, and a look passed over her features that looked a lot like concern.

“Sarah told me that your leg is much better.”

“It is, yeah,” you confirmed. “I can walk without a splint for the most part, but Rafe and my parents still want me to stay off of it if I can.”

She nodded, a soft ‘that’s good’ reaching your ears. Kie looked like she wanted to say more, and despite you two being friendly—with her eventually coming around to you—it was very clear in this moment that you were not friends. You blamed Rafe for that and was just about to go find him when she spoke again.

“It’s not my place…it’s really JJ’s to tell you the truth, but… He was really out of line that day in the hospital.”

Her words took you by surprise, her expression even more so because she looked genuinely embarrassed by what had occurred.

“Yeah, Rafe’s an asshole, and sure, sometimes he’s an asshole to you, and we’re probably the only ones who ever see that, but… JJ accusing him of that was really gross and uncalled for,” she continued.

You looked down at her words, unable to defend JJ in the way you wanted. Everyone thought he was just being a dick who hated Rafe, but in actuality he was right, and you took a sip of your drink.

“His feelings aren’t any excuse to accuse someone of something like that…”

You looked at her again at her words, expression inquiring.

“You know, about Rafe…and you,” she eventually added, albeit reluctantly.

She shrugged at the look on your face, her own expression softer than what you were used to.

“I think he likes you,” she said, shocking you. “Or…at the very least you surprised him. You’re just not what he expected.”

You struggled to respond to that, taking another sip.

“What makes you say that?” you wondered with a scoff.

“He brings you up sometimes. Just to me,” she added at the look on your face. “Nothing crazy. I just think he worries about you dating Rafe, and I keep telling him you’re with that guy for a reason.”

You swallowed, unsure of how to feel about JJ talking to Kie about you.

“There’s probably a whole other side to Rafe the rest of us will just never see…”

You thought to yourself if she only knew.

“That’s flattering,” you slowly said, attempting to steady your heart. “I didn’t even think JJ cared enough about me to talk about me to anyone. Especially to you.”

Sarah was always vocal about how tight-knit John B.’s friend group was before she came along. There’d been a few days where you absentmindedly listened to her talk about how she’d felt like she was intruding at first, only feeling welcomed by all after some time. You especially remembered a few comments on how protective Kie was over her boys, doubly so towards Sarah considering their history.

“I was surprised too,” the other girl agreed. “…but I guess he just wanted to talk to a girl about it.”

You only nodded at that, and you could feel her gaze on you, although it was hard to read when you looked at her.

“You know he’s here tonight…”

Even though your face didn’t move, your heart did skip a beat in your chest, and you sharply inhaled. You didn’t need her to confirm who she was talking about, but she did anyway, and you took another sip of your drink.

“He’s making some extra money,” she explained. “I didn’t get why he’d want to work Midsummers of all events, but…maybe now I do.”

Your gaze met hers at that, and before you could really study her expression, you were interrupted.

“You’re going to hang by the bar all night?” Rafe wondered, saddling up next to you as he flagged down the bartender.

He only just noticed Kie after a moment, throwing her a dismissive look before resting his blue eyes on you.

“Is she why I’ve had to entertain myself with Kelce and Topper despite coming with my beautiful girlfriend?”

You hated the way he talked about her like she wasn’t there, but before you could scold him on it, Kie made herself scarce with one last glance thrown your way. You forced it out of your mind, sighing at him.

“You three were discussing football. I figured that was your subtle way of excluding me…”

After being handed a drink he was just shy of being legal for, Rafe snaked his arm around your waist. He pressed his lips to yours, humming to himself.

“If I’d wanted you to go away, I would’ve said so,” he murmured into the kiss.

His lips made their way to your cheek, and that was the moment you took note of familiar blond hair over his shoulder. Just as Kie said, he was wearing a uniform, a serving tray in his hand, and you blinked. Was he really here just for you? It seemed like way too big of a risk to take, but you found yourself glad that he was.

You needed to tell him that he couldn’t sleep in the pool house for a while.

It was then that you heard Kelce call your boyfriend over, and you both turned to see the other guy waving him over. He and Topper and some of Rafe’s other friends were laughing down at someone’s phone, and Rafe squeezed your waist.

“Now I’m telling you to entertain yourself,” he chuckled. “I won’t be long.”

He left you to go and see what was so funny, and you tapped your finger against your glass a few times before stepping away. JJ’s blue gaze was already on you when you glanced over, and you looked back at Rafe one more time before stepping into the building. A few beats had passed before you heard footsteps mirroring yours.

Knowing this cursed place like the back of your hand, you were quick and discreet in slipping into a storage room. You swallowed down the rest of your drink as you slowly paced, telling yourself you were on a time crunch. It wasn’t too much longer before you had company, and you were quick to get your words out before JJ got the wrong idea.

“You can’t stay at the pool house tonight,” you told him, giving him pause. “Not for a while actually. Not until I can convince my father he doesn’t need to install cameras.”

You sighed.

“I might just tell him I’m the one who’s been in there.”

The blond nodded at that, and you watched him purse his lips.

“So…this isn’t what I thought it was going to be.”

You couldn’t hold back your smile at that, gently laughing to yourself.

“No, JJ,” you admonished. “Rafe is…right outside.”

You gestured towards the door.

“…and his friends will keep him occupied for a while sure, but definitely not long enough to…”

You trailed off, shrugging and dropping your arm. Your words made JJ’s eyebrows raise, and he gave you a look you were more than familiar with.

“That sounds like a challenge.”

You gave him a look.

“JJ…be serious…”

He slowly made his way to you, keeping his eyes on yours the entire time.

“I am,” he breathed, gaze finally dropping. “You look beautiful.”

Rafe had given you the same compliment, but it meant more coming from JJ’s lips, and your own lips parted. Your stomach always flipped when he said things like that to you, and you reminded yourself that you hadn’t met up with him for this. You said that, but the more you looked at him the more you thought how nice he looked in something akin to a suit.

JJ’s blond hair was just a tad neater, resembling Rafe’s almost, and you didn’t think you liked it. Too busy taking in his uncharacteristic appearance, you didn’t pay attention to how close he’d gotten until his hand was touching your necklace. It was a tennis one, the expensive piece of jewelry catching the light, and you focused in on JJ’s face just as he let out a low whistle.

“Rafe bought it,” you explained, noting how much it felt like a collar. “He insisted I wear it tonight.”

You glanced at the clock on the wall, telling yourself to leave, to tell JJ that you’d see him later. However, you couldn’t deny that you didn’t want to, hating that you were here with Rafe instead. You wanted to prolong your time with the other blond for as long as possible, and you knew that JJ was thinking the same thing by the way his hand rested on your cheek.

“JJ…”

Your voice was low as he moved closer.

“Rafe isn’t going to be distracted forever.”

He looked between your eyes at that, his teeth sinking into his lip. He seemed to be contemplating it for a few moments before dropping to his knees. Your heart thudded in your chest as he reached under your dress, dragging your underwear down, and you didn’t stop him as your stomach flipped. You didn’t miss the way he slipped them into his pocket as he stood, lips immediately finding yours.

You couldn’t resist rubbing your thighs together in anticipation, feeling heat settle in the pit of your stomach. JJ tasted the inside of your mouth, and you could tell he’d had a drink or two earlier. He took his time in kissing you, mouth slowly moving against yours, and somewhere along the way he seemed to remember where you were…what you were not supposed to be doing…and who you had to get back to.

Resting between JJ and the wall, you helped him undo his pants, hand immediately wrapping around his cock the moment it was free. He hissed against your lips, and you couldn’t hold back your smile, kissing him harder and stroking him. He groaned into the kiss when you squeezed him, and reminding yourself of Rafe, you pushed your lower half against his.

One of JJ’s hands slid behind your thigh before hooking your leg against his waist. He rested between your legs as his lips traveled down your neck, and with your underwear in his pocket, you could feel the tip of him poking at your bare skin, a shudder passing through you as you wrapped your arms around him.

Guiding the tip of him between your folds, JJ pushed himself through his fist a few times before sliding into you with one quick thrust. You threw your head back, gasping at the tight fight and thinking you liked it a little better when you weren’t as wet. The slight burn made you buck your hips, and JJ’s hands were tight on you as he started to thrust into you.

You couldn’t swallow down your moan, reaching out to press your hand against the wall as JJ fucked you. Wrapping your other arm around his shoulder and neck, you pressed your face against him, teeth sinking into the nice shirt he had on. His hands were guiding your hips to meet him thrust for thrust, his cock stretching you out. You grew wetter with every movement, and it wasn’t long before each thrust was smoother and easier than the last.

For a few moments, you forgot all about Rafe and Midsummers and the fact that you had to go back out there and smile on your boyfriend’s arm. There was even a faint thought that he might be looking for you that you pushed out of your mind. All you could focus on was the feeling of JJ inside of you, chasing both of your climaxes. You wanted to keep fucking him for hours, but you knew that wouldn’t be possible, now.

You glanced at the clock again when JJ left open mouthed kisses against your throat, groaning against your skin as you squeezed him. You kept pushing your hips forward to meet his thrusts, dripping around his cock, and pulling at his uniform. Your other hand reached between you, dipping under your dress and circling your bundle of nerves. Your toes curled at the feel, and when you came, you came hard.

You swallowed down your moan as you tightened around JJ, and when your climax triggered his own, he pressed his face into the crook of your neck. You clung to each other as you came together and getting it in your head that you needed to go, you dropped your leg. You were going to help JJ get redressed, but he deterred you with a quick kiss.

“Go, go,” he urged, ushering you out of the room, and you hurried to make sure your hair and dress were fine as you sped away from the room.

You were down the hall when you felt JJ dripping down your thighs, and with a start, you realized he still had your underwear. You were contemplating turning back when you heard your name, the sound getting closer and closer until Rafe finally rounded the corner. Your eyes were wide as they met his angry ones, and you didn’t get a word out before his hand tightened on your arm.

“Where the hell have you been?”

“The bathroom,” was your quick answer, blinking before adding to it. “…and then the kitchens. I was trying to find a ginger-ale. My stomach felt weird.”

“I’ve been looking for you forever,” he spat, pulling you in the opposite direction of the party. “Sarah and my dad are being especially irritating, right now.”

When Rafe pulled you into an empty room, your heart sank.

…because you knew what he wanted.

“Rafe…not here…”

Your words actually gave him pause, and your boyfriend looked at you like you’d lost your mind. One of his hands pressed to the very door you were leaning against, and you watched him tilt his head at you. His hair wasn’t so neat now—a sign that he’d been running his hands through it—and you swallowed at the way he looked between your eyes.

“We’ve never not fucked at Midsummers,” he told you. “It’s practically a tradition, now.”

He softly laughed to himself, finding that funny.

“Can’t we just go? Let’s just go home and shower and-.”

“I’m not ready to go,” he cut you off, eyeing you. “My sister has been annoying me, and my dad is making me want to snort four lines of coke, and instead, I choose to fuck my girlfriend.”

The determination on his face made your nerves spike, and you were all too aware in this moment of the feel of JJ’s cum drying on the inside of your thighs. You didn’t think Rafe would even notice such a thing in his haste to be inside of you, but you knew you didn’t have the capacity to not feel icky fucking Rafe after just doing so with JJ.

“…but for whatever reason, she’s fighting me on that.”

Now, he looked angrier than he did before, and you looked towards the ceiling.

“I thought we were past this…”

When you looked at him again, his face was much closer.

“I thought we were on the same page about the least you could do in this relationship.”

You looked down at that, chest clenching painfully at the memory. The silence between you was thick with tension, and when he slowly reached up to touch your face, you let your eyes close.

“Are you going to fuck me, or do I need to give you another nose job?”

At his soft words, you looked into his eyes. Rafe was entirely serious, and with a shaky sigh, you reached for his belt. He didn’t say a word as you unbuckled it, and you shuddered when he leaned in to kiss your cheek, inhaling at the feel of you slipping your hand into his pants. His hand reached up to the back of your neck as you stroked him, fingers finding that stupid necklace and tightening it around your throat.

“Fuck,” he cursed against your skin.

Rafe moved you towards an empty table, hurried in pushing you onto it, and he didn’t hesitate in covering your frame and guiding himself into you. He groaned at the smooth entry, kissing you again and pushing his hips against yours.

“So wet for me already?” he hummed into the kiss.

He reached under you to lift your hips a bit, holding you right where he wanted you as he thrust into you. So eager to fuck you, Rafe didn’t even notice your lack of underwear. Or at least not enough to comment on it if he did, too preoccupied with taking out his frustrations on your body. You held onto him and his arm as you squeezed your eyes shut, fighting to convince yourself that you weren’t as horrible as you felt.

It wasn’t even twenty minutes ago when JJ was inside of you, fucking you in some storage room and fighting to make you come before you had to get back to Rafe. Now, here you were, once again in an empty room but having sex with someone entirely different. You shuddered as you recalled Rafe’s words, knowing that it wasn’t your arousal for him but instead a combination from both you and JJ after the other blond had come inside of you.

The thought made you want to shy away from the man on top of you, but there was nowhere to go. The table shook beneath his rough thrusts, and Rafe seemed to forget that you were there as he pounded into you. You flinched and squirmed beneath your boyfriend from both the rough treatment and the overstimulation, feeling torn between wanting to come again and pushing Rafe away.

When he fisted his hand into the hair at the nape of your neck, pulling your head back, you knew that you were in for a long night.

Your chest was painfully tight as you stared at Rafe in horror. Your boyfriend looked nothing like the gentleman he pretended to be but instead like the monster he often was. Only this time, that violent gleam in his eyes wasn’t directed at you. It had set its sights on JJ.

“Rafe…come on, this is ridiculous, let’s just go,” you repeated for the umpteenth time.

It was only an hour ago that you were hanging onto him as he fucked you in some empty room, pent up and angry at both Sarah and Ward. Now—somehow—you’d found yourselves outside as his friends held JJ’s arms, your boyfriend gearing up to hit him again. It was unfair and disgusting and cruel.

“You’re being an asshole, and for what? Because he’s here?”

The party was still going on, and twenty minutes ago you’d thought you were leaving. Now, you were basically forced to watch Rafe hurt the guy you were sleeping with. He kept telling you to leave, that this wouldn’t take long and wouldn’t be much longer, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to abandon JJ so easily.

“Rafe!”

“Get in the damn truck,” he called over his shoulder.

He sounded exasperated with you, and his friends chuckled. You looked between them in disgust, most notably at Topper who clearly wasn’t enjoying this as much as the others but didn’t have the balls to actually say something. Disappointed in all of them, your eyes briefly met JJ’s, his practically pleading with you to just leave.

You huffed.

“Fuck this,” you spat, making your way back towards the building to find someone who worked here.

Your tone must have caught Rafe’s attention because he was quick to stop you, roughly grabbing you.

“Woah, woah, woah,” he chuckled, but it had an edge to it. “I thought I said to wait in the truck?”

He looked at you like you’d lost your mind.

“What, you’re-you were going to go tattle on me?”

“This is shitty, and I won’t stand by and let it happen,” you replied.

“Who gives a fuck? He’s a Pogue!”

“…and so that makes this okay? I want to go home, and you want to stand here beating on someone who can’t even fight back!”

Rafe looked between your eyes, and you hated the way he tilted his head.

“Why do you care so much about what happens to him?”

“You’re so stupid-! It could be anyone, Rafe,” you sneered. “This is childish and mean.”

Rafe stared you down for what felt like too long—too still—and your heart beat faster the longer it went on. Before you knew it, his hand had fisted into your hair, and he was dragging you over to his friends.

“See… This is why he’s always making googly eyes at you,” Rafe said, not sounding the least bit amused. “This is why he’s making comments and accusations about me and our relationship.”

Rafe maneuvered his arm around your neck, holding you close as he grinned at JJ.

“You’re too nice, baby. Too sympathetic,” he chuckled, gesturing to the other blond. “He’s got himself a little crush, I just know it.”

You attempted to move out of Rafe’s grip, but he wouldn’t budge. You hated the bruising that was already forming under JJ’s eyes and the blood on his lip too. You made a noise of protest when Rafe kissed you on the lips, sloppily and rough, before turning away.

“Hey, JJ,” your boyfriend softly said, tone mocking. “She’s just being nice…because that’s just who she is.”

“Rafe…”

“Don’t go getting any ideas.”

“You’re making a fool of yourself,” you spat at Rafe, knowing that he was doing so in more ways than one.

Rafe looked at you in mock outrage, shrugging.

“I’m just trying to help him out,” he told you. “It’s not my fault these Pogues always want what we have.”

“Rafe, stop this,” you hissed. “You’re being an asshole.”

The words had barely left your mouth when his hand roughly closed around your chin. You winced at the feel, and neither you nor Rafe missed the way JJ tried to break free. Rafe’s friends chuckled at the sight, but Rafe didn’t, merely staring at the other blond.

“Look at you,” he finally mused. “I don’t know whether I should feel flattered or offended that you feel so protective over my girlfriend.”

There wasn’t a hint of humor in his tone, and before you could quite marinate on that, you were harshly thrown to the ground. The mood seemed to shift at that, and you could tell that his friends hadn’t been expecting that. You didn’t know if Rafe was drunk or high or both, but he’d never been so public in his cavalier treatment of you.

“She’s my girlfriend, JJ, and I could do anything I want to her…”

You attempted to push yourself up when you felt the sole of his shoe on your knee…that knee.

“I could set her little healing journey back…”

You looked up at him with wide eyes, sure that he wouldn’t with so many witnesses, but also…not so sure. You glanced at JJ, but the other blond was staring at Rafe with wide eyes, and you couldn’t tell whether he was angry or scared. Probably both.

“I could rip her hair out right here…” he gestured to his friends. “…and do you think any of them would stop me?”

“Rafe,” Topper finally said, and your boyfriend’s gaze snapped to him.

“Would you?”

Topper just stared at him, but his silence spoke volumes, and you only attempted to stand again when your boyfriend finally moved his foot. He pointed around, his gaze resting on JJ again.

“None of them are going to do shit,” he said to him. “So, what makes you so special to think you have a say in how I treat my girlfriend?”

Your lips trembled as you finally stood to your feet.

“…because she was nice to you once? Because she doesn’t want me to kick your ass now?”

You looked between them, the faint sounds of the party reaching your ears.

“Truth be told, I should kick your face in for that stunt you pulled at the hospital,” your boyfriend sneered.

“Rafe, you’ve made your point!”

You hated this entire pissing contest he was doing, and at this point, you half expected Rafe to whip it out and mark his territory. He stared JJ down for what felt like too long, his friends equally uncomfortable now with the turn the night had taken. You could see it in his eyes that he wanted to slap you clear across the face—maybe even break your arm—all just to prove that he could do whatever he wanted to you, and there wasn’t a thing JJ could do about it.

Rafe, however, settled for harshly grabbing your face and spitting right into your mouth as you gasped.

Taken aback, you couldn’t hold in your coughing fit, forced to follow along as he roughly grabbed your arm.

“Like I said JJ. Anything I want,” he repeated.

Dragging you along, Rafe tossed his next words over his shoulder at his friends.

“That Pogue’s all yours.”

You felt riddled with disgust the whole way to his truck, humiliated and angry. You blinked back tears as you recalled the way his friends did nothing, didn’t even move a muscle as he threw you to the ground, and you didn’t know what you hated more—that or Topper’s cowardly attempt that he ultimately backed out of.

Once you were at his truck and away from prying eyes, the slap came harshly and swiftly.

It made your ears ring and your cheek sting, tears forming behind your eyes as Rafe leaned in. His nose grazed the burning cheek, and you could hear his labored breathing as his chest heaved against your arm. He didn’t say anything for a few minutes, and neither did you, just staring into the darkness as a few tears finally spilled over.

“That is the last time you defend that Pogue…especially around me,” he whispered. “Do you understand?”

You started to nod when his hand circled around your throat, making you sharply inhale.

“I want to hear you fucking say it.”

Pulling at his arm, you eventually gave up on that, forcing the word out.

“Yes,” you struggled to say.

Shoving you away from him, he opened the passenger door, telling you to get inside. Wiping your face, you did, settling in the seat with a newfound hatred for Midsummers.