#HEY GUESS WHAT................ I CARE HIM

[jiminiecrickets]

KILLER? I BARELY KNOW HER! FUSHIGURO TOJI / M!READER

summary. shadows of your past catch up to you – but you're the strongest, and there's nothing you can't handle.

wc. 5.5k

tags. smut | top reader, bottom toji. mentions of underage drinking. sorcerer + teacher reader, enemies-to-lovers (with extra steps), sorta sugar baby toji/rich reader, doggystyle + missionary, mentions of exhibitionism + filming, unprotected sex, brief degradation (r. receiving), brief breeding kink, implied shower sex

notes. every dark-haired male jjk character deserves a silly and illogically powerful best friend with whom they have romantic tension :3 you're him. literally.

The pleasant chime of the doorbell echoes throughout your home. You're not expecting anyone.

You know you should be careful. In fact, you shouldn't be staring at the back of the front door at all. Opening it would ruin the carefully put-together façade of the closed-curtain windows and dark rooms.

Maybe you're tired, and you forget, moving on instinct. Maybe you're bored.

Maybe you're hopeful.

The door inches open, and a man looks up from where he'd been staring listlessly at the flower-spotted bushes lining the patch of green between the entrance and the driveway. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants, and his eyes are dark, flickering with an emotion you can't quite catch before it flutters away.

"Toji?" you say, the surprise in your voice teetering on warmth. "Hey..."

"Hey," he replies – exhales, really, something like a hum. He reaches up by his shoulder, the action too familiar for you not to stiffen, but he just rubs the back of his neck, stretching out the cricks of his body. "So. New place, huh?"

Your hand rests behind the door. He knows better than to expect it to be empty. "Old, technically. It was my first property purchase."

He tilts his head. "Yeah? When did you get it?"

"Fifteen. A birthday present for myself – a gift for surviving another year of high school. And curses, I guess. Surviving them was way worse because getting their blood in my mouth made me want to die."

He scoffs, and the raised scar over the corner of his lips shifts with his amusement. "Fifteen... And what does a teenager do with a house?"

You shrug. "Drink. Party. Pirate movies. The usual."

"Hah. Sounds like you were a fun kid." Toji scuffs the toe of his sandals against the ground absently. Then he rolls his neck and sighs. "Look, I didn't come all the way here to talk history. Long-ass way out, too, so just let me in."

Lifting an eyebrow, you give him a once-over that feels keener than it should be. "Are you here to kill me?"

"What, you think I'm here for that bounty? Who do you think I am?"

"Don't blame me. You seem very well aware of it."

"Isn't worth the effort for the price. 'Sides, you've given me more than that over the years, haven't you? I like to keep my options open, and it seems to me like it's a better investment to keep you alive."

"You talk as if you could kill me at all," you mutter, a little disdainfully, but it dissipates swiftly when Toji cracks a smirk, so familiar and entwined deeply with your favourite memories. The breeze stirs lightly, and Toji's hair ruffles, almost blue in the sunlight.

"Couldn't I? You're the one who runs away."

"Yeah, after immobilising you. Not a lot of fun to be had if you're dead as a doornail. Say – how deep are you in the jujutsu world? You must be rusty. I'd be willing to help you train."

"You'd help me kill your fellow sorcerers?" He chuckles and arches a brow. "I'll have you know I'm looking at a contract worth thirty million from a bunch of religious crazies."

"Peanuts." You wave a dismissive hand. "Now that I mention it, I'm getting complacent, too... I could use the challenge. Keep in contact with me and I'll pay you double."

"You're paying me to use my body?"

"Your words, not mine."

He holds your gaze steadily for a while, and despite his airy voice, his eyes are thoughtful. "Let's not talk business on your doorstep. Lost your manners, have you?"

Finally, your shoulders loosen, and the tension in your body vanishes. With a soft chuckle, you pull the door open further and step aside. "Don't make me regret this."

"Please," he says, slipping out of his sandals and into your home. "You never do."

Zenin. Fushiguro. The Sorcerer Killer. All of his names, all of his history, and yet, to you, he is just your baby – your Toji. It'd be embarrassing if he cared enough to be embarrassed, he thinks as you draw him into a rib-shattering hug. Instead, he feels smug.

Before that Gojo kid, there was you. It wasn't a position you were born for – like the kid was – but you trained your way up and eventually found yourself most suited for the role, all but waltzing into it – because what youth wouldn't want to be number one? It was almost gross, your selflessness and single-minded ambition, and Toji knew how that sort of mindset made the people in power feel. They commissioned him for your death at one point, after all.

It was fun. You were both so young: dancing around each other's weapons as if it was all a stage, chasing each other's clues like a couple of dogs running after a bone. Still – you were society's best, the cream of the crop, and for you to be his, of all people, was a selfish triumph he indulged in too many times to count.

His hands creep up beneath your baggy shirt as he leans up to kiss you, tongue slipping between your lips to share in the taste of some expensive whisky he can't name. He hums – a low, rumbling sound, like a tiger chuffing – as his fingers bump over thick, warm muscle.

Blood and bone. That's what you all are, when it comes down to it.

"You should wear tighter clothes," he murmurs against your lips. "Less to grab in a fight."

The backs of his thighs press into the edge of the kitchen bench, where a forgotten glass of water sits – the remnant of your half-hearted attempt at being a good host while his lips found your neck.

You huff. "A 'fight', huh? I wasn't expecting one."

"You should always expect a fight. While you're at it, always expect to lose. Stops you from being disappointed."

"Sounds pessimistic."

"That's the price we pay for being good at what we do."

"As if you pay for anything, Toji."

He chuckles. He drops the hem of your shirt before sliding his palms up your chest – what a tease – and cupping your face. His hands are warm, callused, thrumming with lifeblood. He sweeps his thumb absently over your cheek, committing every pore of your face to memory. You have the urge to pull away, look down, like a schoolboy with a crush – but Toji's hands are firm.

"C'mon, at least look me in the eye before we kick this off. You that ashamed of me?"

Startled, your gaze flicks up to his. Instead of the half-wry look you expect, he smirks and pulls you in to meet his lips. His fingers interlace loosely at the nape of your neck, caging you in place, and you have no choice but to bend to his whim.

"Stupid," you mutter against his lips, mostly to yourself. "Stop playing with my feelings, Toji – that's manipulative. You're breaking my heart here."

Rather than pulling away himself, he pushes you away, a palm flat on your chest but without any real power. It remains there as he leans back against the stone countertop. "My bad, baby. It's just funny."

"Funnier than you calling this," you gesture between your chests, "something to 'kick off' after... how many years? If you weren't all over me seconds ago, I'd think you came over for a beer and a game."

He lifts his hands in teasing surrender at your accusatory tone. "All right. We'll fuck, then. Maybe include some heavy petting for the B-roll, if you're up for it. Sound good?"

You cross your arms over your chest and muster up a suitable amount of annoyance for a glare. Toji finds it hard to take you seriously – what with your dumb jokes and ridiculous inclination towards flashy fighting – so to him, it's more of a pout. "So, you got lonely without me, huh? Yeah, nah. We're not filming ourselves."

"Hm." It's not a yes, but it's not a disagreement, either. "Why not? It'd be hot."

"I'm a teacher, Toji," you remind him, clicking your tongue when he shrugs, one hand on his hip. "I don't want that kind of thing to exist. If it got out..."

"So you are ashamed of me," he mutters. He steps forward to grab your hands when you start to protest, visibly distressed. He snickers. "Kidding, kidding. Fuck, it's fun to play with you. You don't care about the other one, then? The one from the abandoned restaurant?"

"Well—" Your breath stutters when Toji absently compares hand sizes and laces your fingers together. You watch as he aligns four of his fingers against your ring finger specifically, one at a time as if comparing again, but this time...

"Well?" he prompts, his grin broadening. His shaggy hair falls across his eyes as he tilts his head.

"Well, I don't look like I did ten years ago, and as far as I know, my face isn't in it..." All logic scatters like leaves in the wind when he looks up at you through his lashes, that playful, pretty smirk of his tugging at your heartstrings just right. It's like the years never passed. You swallow. "I-It was different," you finish lamely.

Toji's eyes flicker down to your lips. With a flick of his wrist, he twists a hand in your collar and tugs you down so that your faces are inches apart. Your chests collide roughly. He doesn't seem to care, his gaze trained on you with a heavy, smoky intensity. "Fine. If you won't let me film it, you better make it memorable. I'll decide later if it was worth coming here for."

—

Toji should have known you were serious when you pulled the bedframe about six inches out from the wall. He'd laughed at first, insulting you for such uptight behaviour regarding something as boring as walls, but you'd just dragged him to the bed with a roll of your eyes.

With how loud he was moaning, you could only be glad that he didn't find you at your apartment property.

"Toji," you breathe, your gaze trapped on the tight, firm ass ricocheting off your hips. Your grip tightens. "Toji."

"Fuuuck," he drawls as his cock throbs, prying his eyes open to narrow them at you over his shoulder. Lust has turned the usual green of them nearly black. "What?" he bites out.

"I missed you. Missed this. Fuck, baby, you're so fucking tight."

He lets out a throaty chuckle, turning back around to rest his head on his forearms. With a shift of your hips, your cock punches his prostate, over and over, and his eyes roll back briefly, a pleased groan rumbling from the depths of his stomach. His dick pulses and swings uselessly between his muscular thighs.

"M-Men are all the same," he grumbles. You click your tongue, though you don't miss the way an involuntary moan makes him stutter.

"Awful way to greet an old friend, you know. I thought you were smarter than that. Try being nicer," you slam your hips forward, making his eyes fly open with a gasp, "and you'll get what you want."

His skin prickles when you glide a warm hand up his side and come to rest it upon his shoulder, holding him down with just enough strength to make his muscles flex to fight it. Your thumb rubs little circles into the back of his neck, tracing the dips of his shoulders until you find what you're looking for. You dig into the taut muscle, making him wince.

"Stressed?" you hum, and your voice is gentle. Gentler than he deserves. "Is it money problems again?"

Something like guilt stirs in his belly, but a well-angled thrust has his thoughts unravelling. "No."

"No?"

"No," he repeats. You hum in response and don't push the matter further.

Your hand lifts from his shoulder, and already he can feel the stiffness returning. Damn those God-hands of yours. He finds himself arching back, bracing against the bed, in an effort to return your hands to their rightful place.

You hush him sweetly, pressing your chest to his back and burying your face in the crook of his neck. The angle has the shaft of your heavy cock pressed right up against his prostate and his body jolts with the fiery burn of pleasure, his knuckles turning white as he fists the sheets. "No need to chase me anymore. Not going anywhere. 'M right here, baby."

Toji manages to scoff, and his voice is steadier than he expects. "Not chasin' you, asshole."

"Yeah? Then what do you call showing up at my door as you did, unannounced?"

"Welfare check."

You roll your eyes. "I hate you."

You punctuate your sentence by yanking his hips back on your cock, the wet squelch of lube and precome making him shudder. Despite the rough treatment, a moan tumbles from his lips, and he laughs, loose and breathy.

"Fuck me like it, then," he dares, knocking his temple gently against yours.

One hand lifts to card through his hair. He groans softly as your nails scrape his scalp, but his eyes fly wide open as you grab a fistful and tug, wrenching him up to kneel. He sinks his teeth into his lower lip as you wrap your hand around his leaking cock, jerking him off at the same pace as you fuck into him – he swears he sees stars as your thumb and index finger twist roughly around his swollen tip. His cock squelches in your fist, bubbles of precome sliding down his tip and smearing across your palm.

"Fucker," he snarls, ceasing his split second of flailing to grip your hip and thigh. You'd consider it painful if you hadn't also had the pleasure of being stabbed, slashed, shot, and bitten. "Nngh – so fuckin' big—"

"Going back on our word, are we, honey?" you say slyly, twisting your fist up and down his wet cock. "Tsk, tsk, Toji... so forgetful. I'd say you're getting old."

You glide a fingernail up the line of his vein, making his hips stutter and forcing another curse to slip from his lips, and you dig the tip of your finger roughly into his leaking slit. He moans and his back arches against your hold as your throbbing cock easily slides deep into him, the harsh, rapid smack of your balls against his ass almost disorienting.

He shudders. The heat of his body pulls his skin too tight, makes his tongue heavy and clumsy. Your hands are not quite soft – years of weapons training and hand-to-hand combat would do that to someone – but they're sweet on him. Loving, nearly. Your warmth softens the rub of calluses and tough scar tissue, and Toji learns them anew.

"C'mon, baby... want you to talk to me. Love your pretty little sounds." You end the sentence in a whisper, patting his stomach with the absent sort of friendliness you had as a youth. You never shied away from touching him, rewarding him with your weight draped over his shoulders or entwining your fingers when he did something that pleased you.

That familiar feeling jolts him back to reality. He glances your way – perhaps to say something, but he doesn't remember what about – and you capture his lips with yours, tilting your head and running your tongue over his lower lip.

He keeps them sealed, airtight.

You groan into the kiss and nip at him pleadingly, because you'd have to break Toji's jaw to get him to open up – and you couldn't do that to your favourite killer. Your name falling from his lips like a prayer is too sweet to pass up on.

Eventually, with enough petting and kisses, Toji relents, if only to see you perk up like a puppy tossed a bone. He groans softly as you explore his mouth, tongue curling around his and gliding over his teeth.

Your breath is hot and sweet against his, your lips shockingly gentle despite the quick and steady pace of your hips bouncing off his ass. He jolts every time your cockhead kisses his prostate, swollen and sensitive from your unrelenting pace. His dick bobs, dark red and pulsing hotly in your palm, and he groans like an injured animal. It's almost desperate.

Your shaft drags against his slick walls, which clench with a rippling squeeze as if he's trying to milk you dry. With each hungry snap of your hips, your tip punches the breath out of his lungs. His vision blots out, and he swears he can feel your cock in his damn throat.

Without warning, and without a word, he comes, his expression going lax with pleasure as he releases thick ropes onto his stomach. It's four hard spurts and two weaker pulses, the slow, measured tugs of your wrist twisting in a way that has his thick thighs trembling.

You coo softly, and Toji's face is uncharacteristically warm. Little kisses drift their way up his shoulder and neck and he sighs softly, eyes shut and head tilted back against your shoulder. You press your palm against his chest to feel the heart thudding beneath his ribs, the rise and fall with each shallow breath.

You cup his chest and squeeze.

He cracks an eye open, disapproval furrowing his brows. In response, you grin cheekily and nip at his earlobe as you smooth your fingers through his hair – a silent apology for being so rough.

To his credit, he lets it go. Doesn't even smack you for being an ass. He does, however, clamp down punishingly around your cock when he pulls off, making you hiss at the scrape. It bobs and you shiver at the cold air.

Thoughtfully, Toji glances down at it, still hard as rock and curving upwards towards your stomach. He reaches for it.

Your eyes widen when he slips a nail under the edge of the condom. "Wh-What are you doing?"

"Don't sound so scared. I know we're both safe. Said ya missed me, right?" He grins, dark and sharp, with eyes half-lidded – almost coy. "I'll let you finish inside me. For old times' sake."

"Contract-sanctioned stalking? I thought better of you, Toji." Despite your flippant words, your breath hitches, and Toji's grin widens. He tugs the slick condom off and tosses it aside – without even tying it up, the bastard – and before you can grumble about it, he grabs your jaw, forcing you to look at him, and presses his lips to yours.

You groan softly as he parts his lips and allows you in. He shifts closer, his knee between yours, and grabs your hand. He brings it down between your bodies.

"Baby..." you whisper as he wraps your hand around your lengths, pressed together. He is hot and velvety in your palm.

"Mm." The sound is deep and content, and he blinks up at you slowly like a cat. "I know. I want it."

Then, slinging his arm loosely around your shoulders, he pulls you down with him.

You barely manage to catch yourself before crushing him, your instincts and reflexes dulled by familiarity and a dreamy languor. Not that you think he'd mind – not with that grin.

Toji spreads his knees and hooks his calves around your thighs. He guides your cock into him again, and he rumbles out a pleased moan as it buries itself hilt-deep into his slick warmth.

His head falls back against the pillows as you press your hips flush against his ass. "Ah, shit..."

"You good, baby?" you murmur, swallowing harshly as his gummy walls flutter tightly around you, as if he can lock you inside forever. Your dick twitches.

"Mmh, fuck, jus' sensitive. Move."

It's only natural that you obey.

Toji feels hotter now that you don't have the layer of plastic to contend with – hotter, wetter, hungrier. You thrust shallowly at first, but as his moans grow louder – less restrained – you allow yourself to move tip-to-base, deep and dirty the way he used to like it. Seems he still does. The rim of his puffy asshole catches on the ridge of your cockhead and his nails rake down your shoulders and back, leaving stinging raised lines in their wake.

Pride fills your chest, inflates your ego. An infamous assassin, the Sorcerer Killer, spread wide and inviting with his cheeks all flushed – he's certainly given you a thousand little deaths. You grip the meat of his ass and lift his hips off the mattress, fucking into his wet heat at a new angle that has him shouting your name.

Maybe it's because you can see his face – see all the pretty cock-drunk expressions that wash over his features – that you find yourself chasing the precipice of release embarrassingly fast. He locks his legs around your waist, thick and muscular, and you want to laugh at the absurdity of it.

Why would you ever want to leave?

"Toji," you grunt, panting softly. "'M gonna..." Your breath fans against his sweat-slick skin, making him shiver and arch into your touch. He cups the back of your neck as you nibble and suck dark bruises into his tanned skin, his lashes fluttering as you shift his thighs on your lap and leave far too many deep red hickeys printed on his skin. You even scatter a few across his collarbones and chest, and you're only pleased when he looks like he was mauled by a bear.

He pants softly, his bitten moans making your cock throb even harder. Fuck, you're so hard – the shape of your teeth printed into his skin for all to see makes you prouder than you'd ever admit. You trace the marks gently with your fingertips and Toji's chest stutters.

Gazing up at you with lidded, unfocussed eyes, he laughs, freer than he had since you met him earlier. Your heavy cock plunges into his stretched hole, again and again and again like you're trying to make him take, and your grip on one of his thighs is tight enough to leave red crescents. He grasps your face, turning it down towards him, and offers a sleazy, roguish grin, breathless. His eyes trace the cut of your cheeks, the curve of your lips.

"You look less stupid than usual. S'all you're good for, ain't it? Fucking me nice an' deep with that fat cock of yours – f-fuck. S'mine, yeah? All mine?"

You shudder and groan, bone-deep, and Toji can feel the heavy throbbing of your cock leaking inside him. The slick feeling of you against his walls builds a hot ball of arousal in his lower belly. Your chest heaves against his and your stomach tenses, familiar planes of muscle firm against his hand. Excitement roars through him like a wildfire – eager and keening.

He yanks you down for a devouring kiss as you come, catapulting off the precipice into white bliss. You gasp into it. His ass clenches around you with his own release as he moans, his soft walls stroking you and sucking you in.

He's so fucking warm, so fucking wet. His body is slick with sweat and he shoves his tongue into your mouth like a man starved. Maybe he is. You groan, low and pleased, and his thighs tighten around you like a cage, possessive in his hungry, unyielding embrace.

Spilling into him is heaven. You've died and ascended, you're certain of it. He drinks you deep, as if he was made for it, and lets his head fall back against the pillows with a less-than-steady sigh as your balls tighten and pulse hotly against his skin. Dragging it out, you grind your hips into his ass in lazy circles, huffing and puffing against his throat as if you've run a marathon. Your fingers graze his own, fluttering in a way that seems almost... uncertain.

Hah. As if you knew what that word meant. You were unshakeable, infallible. The strongest. You'd hold onto that title for as long as you could; the burden was heavy.

Rather disappointingly, you don't choose to hold his hands. They glide down his waist and hips, making him shiver, and you slowly pull out, the solid but gentle grip on his thighs never wavering. You set him down as if he was made of glass and his body twitches as thick come leaks from his stretched hole, dripping and pooling white below his ass.

He tosses a lazy arm over his eyes, bending one knee and bracing against the bed. Another hot gush of come. "Ah, f-fuck... shit. You still come like a truck..."

Your gaze, once so dark and sultry as if you were about to eat him alive, now snaps to him, wide and kind and so embarrassed that Toji can't help but crack a grin.

"Sorry, sorry! I didn't hurt you, did I?"

He rolls his eyes. "Other than the hickeys, no. Wouldn'ta minded it anyway," he adds slyly, peering out from within the shadow of his arm. "Pretty hot when you get creative."

Shuffling off of the bed with a soft chuckle, you pick up the discarded condom and toss it in the bin. You pull open the wardrobe with a flex of a wall of muscles that Toji watches keenly, spreading his knees to eye you through them. His tongue darts out to wet his lower lip.

"Y'know, I was thinking," you begin suddenly, rifling through clothes and drawers.

"You can do that?"

"Shut up. I was thinking about you – your situation."

He closes his eyes and sinks back into your bed. "When'd you have the time? Not while you were fucking me, I hope."

"Just listen, Toji." You turn around, washcloth in one hand and a pile of clothes in the other. Dark, but loose and unremarkable – as he prefers it. You toss the clothes at the bottom of the bed and disappear into the adjoining bathroom, raising your voice as the faucet squeaks on. "I was wondering if you'd wanna... you know – catch up. Or at least let me help you."

You continue, "I could find you a place in a better school zone, get you set up legitimately. Honestly, actually, you wouldn't even need to work. You could just focus on your family and I'd take care of the rest."

Toji sits up, ignoring the pinch of pain and the mess between his legs. It'll ache later, so he'll deal with it later. "What?"

"I said—"

"Yeah, yeah, heard you the first time. But why?" He lowers his voice as you return to him and begin to clean him up. He meets your eyes and his mouth takes on the beginning slant of a smirk. "My ass that good, huh? You want me to be your sugar baby?"

Heat floods your cheeks. "You're not that hot, Toji. Don't get ahead of yourself."

"Wasn't talking about my face. Still – it's not like you to beg me to go on the straight and narrow. What's with that?"

"At the risk of sounding humiliatingly sappy after sex," you sigh, sitting back and dropping the cloth aside, "I still care about you. A whole fucking lot. I only want good things for you, Toji, and I have all this excess wealth that I can't donate fast enough, so if I can change just two more lives – I'd beg for the chance."

The desire to change lives without ending others'. He can understand the sentiment.

"What would you want from me?"

For a moment, you're taken aback by the tiredness in his voice. You blink. "Nothing? Like I said, the money would just vanish into a charity otherwise. Well – maybe I'd like to be invited over on the weekends, and maybe drop off-slash-pick up itty-bitty Megumi every so often. He's that age, right? Oh – and you gotta let me into the kitchen. I make a mean lasagne. Wonder if the boy would like it..."

He snorts. "That's a lot of conditions."

"Well, I am offering to let you live like a plump and happy housewife, so..."

He's quiet for a while, his hair falling over his eyes in a way that blocks your view of his face. You toss a rolled-up towel at his head, and he catches it without looking.

He lowers the towel. "You... don't seem to care that I left you."

"No, I didn't at all care that my friend dropped off the face of the earth without warning." You cross your arms and scoff, the smile slipping from your face. "I only heard about what happened months after you vanished, and by that time, there was nothing I could do to search for you. I had too many people looking at me to dig up old underground contacts and not enough time to comb through the country myself. You could have talked to me, you know," you say, your voice softening. "I would never turn you away."

He shrugs, noncommittal. "It's like you said – too many people looking at you. Would be alarming if I came strolling up to your door, wouldn't it?"

"You did today," you point out.

"Yeah, when there's a bounty on your head. I could be killing you right now."

You scoff, though the hint of a smile flickers across your lips. "You're impossible. But fair point. Just... think it over, okay? Come find me after all this bounty business is over and done with. You know where I live."

Toji chuckles softly, and he accepts your offered hand. You lead him to the large bathroom and he threads his towel over the rod next to what must be yours. He stares longer than he should, but the sight of the two towels beside each other – his green, yours blue – forms a lump in his throat that's hard to swallow around. His heartbeat quickens.

The sound of water hitting the tiles fills the bathroom. He raises his voice over it. "Hey."

Glancing over, your arm shimmering with water droplets from where it rests against the faucet handle, you tilt your head wordlessly.

"I should be picking up the kid in a couple of hours," he explains, "at six. As far as he and the childcare know, I work a normal nine-to-five like the rest of 'em. You could go."

Your eyes widen, and you let out an endeared laugh. "Toji, Megumi doesn't know who I am. The last time we met, he was a newborn. I'm not about to give everyone a heart attack by showing up on your behalf."

"It wouldn't be on my behalf, dumbass." His tone borders between disparaging and fond. "I'd go with you."

"Wh—?" Your throat bobs harshly. The shower seems forgotten, and Toji pushes you backwards into it with a palm on your chest because he's not about to waste the water. It pours onto your head, your hair beginning to stick to your face, and it still doesn't seem to register. A smile pulls at his lips as he reaches for your body wash, scanning the label while your brain putters out and short-circuits.

You didn't expect an answer that soon.

"You heard me," he says coolly, as if this is a normal Tuesday for him. He squirts a dab of body wash onto his palm. "Isn't this what you asked for? In my opinion, it's not that fun. I get a lot of women chattin' me up while we wait. Awkward as hell since I can't be rude or they might tell their kids, and then their kids won't like Megumi... ah, it's a big deal. You being there will help. You love to talk, so you can do it for me. Good game plan, right?"

"Toji, I..."

"The fact that I'm talking more than you worries me."

"You said pick-up's at six, right?" you say suddenly, the glint in your eyes intensifying.

He arches a brow, glancing up at you. "Yeah."

"That means we have an hour." You lean in, trapping him against the glass of the shower. There's a hint of mania in your gaze, starved with a vehement zeal. "I'm gonna fuck you, now."

His eyes widen. A feral grin spreads across his face. He laughs against your throat and moans when you press your thumb roughly into one of the many hickeys littering his neck and chest. "You're crazy. Fuckin' crazy – oi."

It's disturbingly easy for you to lift him by his thighs and press him against the cool glass. His skin prickles as he grips your shoulders and mutters, his breath mingling with yours: "If you drop me, I'll kill you."

"Promise?" you ask with a breathless grin.

He crushes his lips to yours. No one else gets the privilege of taking your little deaths.

[seattlesuicide]

**Title:** *Grunge Miracle: Kurt’s Pregnant Adventure***Genre:** Surreal Comedy/Drama**Plot Summary:****Act 1:****Introduction:***Scene: Early 1990s Seattle, Nirvana is performing in a packed club. The energy is raw and electric.***Inciting Incident:***Kurt stumbles upon a strange artifact backstage after the concert.***Kurt:** (holding up the artifact) "Hey guys, check this out! Think it’s a new kind of guitar pick?"**Dave:** (laughing) "Looks like something out of a sci-fi movie. Be careful, you might summon aliens."**Krist:** "Or maybe it’s some weird fan gift. Just don’t break it."*Kurt shrugs, putting the artifact in his pocket.***Reaction:***A few days later, Kurt starts experiencing symptoms. He’s at a band rehearsal, looking uneasy.***Kurt:** (grimacing) "Man, I feel weird. Like, really weird. My stomach’s been doing flips all day."**Dave:** "Maybe you’ve been hitting the Taco Bell too hard."**Krist:** "Or you’re just pregnant, dude." (laughs)**Courtney:** (overhearing, teasingly) "Well, weirder things have happened."**Act 2:****Acceptance:***Kurt visits a doctor who confirms the unbelievable news. He’s now sitting with Dave and Krist, trying to process it.***Kurt:** "So, I’m... pregnant. Like, actually pregnant."**Dave:** (jaw dropped) "No way. This is insane."**Krist:** "Does this mean we need to start a nursery in the tour bus?"**Media Frenzy:***News leaks, and Kurt is swarmed by reporters. He holds an impromptu press conference.***Reporter 1:** "Kurt, how does it feel to be the first pregnant man?"**Kurt:** (smirking) "Weird. But then again, what about my life isn’t?"**Reporter 2:** "Is this a publicity stunt?"**Kurt:** "I wish. But no, this is real. Guess I’m just full of surprises."**Emotional Journey:***Kurt’s at home, talking to Courtney.***Kurt:** "This whole thing... it’s making me think about what I want to leave behind. Not just music, but something real, you know?"**Courtney:** (smiling) "You’re gonna be an amazing dad, Kurt. Weird, but amazing."**Act 3:****Climax:***Kurt goes into labor during a major concert. The band tries to keep playing as chaos ensues.***Kurt:** (between contractions) "Guess this is the ultimate stage dive, huh?"**Dave:** (panicking) "Someone get a doctor! And a camera, this is rock history!"**Resolution:***Kurt holds his newborn baby, exhausted but happy. The band and Courtney surround him, sharing the moment.***Kurt:** (softly singing a lullaby) "Hush little baby, don’t say a word..."*The movie ends with Kurt on stage, holding his baby, the crowd cheering, blending the rawness of grunge with the tenderness of new life.

heye every one.

[vmlnrzmp4]

What if Blue Lock dad's parents were visiting to see their grandchild? (Though with an exception of Michael, for an... Obvious reasons, so, how about with Michael instead some comfort stuff with him having some memories of his parents after seeing his mother on TV, then coming back to reality with a family he actually has now?)

a/n: hey lovely, i excluded kaiser here for obvious reasons :(

itoshi sae

"tadaima," sae says nonchalantly as he steps in, his parents following behind.

the moment they enter, natsuki—who had been playing with barbie dolls—gets up and rushes toward them.

"ojiichan!" she calls, sprinting straight into her grandfather’s arms.

sae’s father laughs heartily, kneeling down just in time to catch his granddaughter, "ah, my little natsuki! did you miss me?"

"mhm! so much!" she says, nuzzling into his shoulder.

sae’s mother, standing beside him, crosses her arms, "no hugs for me?"

natsuki giggles and wiggles free, rushing toward her.

"obaachan~!" she sings, wrapping her tiny arms around her grandmother’s waist.

sae clicks his tongue, "natsuki," he calls softly but firmly.

natsuki looks up from the hug. "yes, papa?"

sae stares at her for a second before sighing and turning away. "nothing. forget it."

natsuki blinks then realizes, "oh papa! hug for papa!" she says as sae picks natsuki in her arms.

you chuckle, stepping forward to help with the bags. "guess you were feeling left out, no?"

"shut up," he mutters.

his mother smirks. "he was always like this when rin got more attention as a baby too."

"mom—" sae glares at her.

his father chuckles, placing a hand on sae’s shoulder.

"some things never change."

itoshi rin

"—and don’t forget how you used to follow sae around everywhere."

"mom, enough," rin says, angrily stabbing his food with the fork. but trying his best to be gentle for his daughter.

sakura gasps, "papa, were you a little shadow?"

"absolutely not," says rin.

"yes," his mother corrects.

you couldn't help but look away, your hand covering your mouth as you laugh.

rin groans, rubbing his temples. "can we just eat?"

but sakura isn't done and starts mimicking his every movement. If he reaches for his glass, she does too. If he leans forward, so does she. "look, ma, obaachan! ojiichan! i'm a little shadow just like papa!" she giggles.

you hold back another laugh while rin sighs, giving his daughter a stern look, "sakura. sit properly."

"but papa—"

"sakura," he warns.

his mother laughs, "she really takes after you, rin."

isagi yoichi

"yuki-chan!" yoichi's mother exclaims, taking yuki in her arms and showering her face with so many kissys.

"obaachan!" yuki giggles.

after setting yuki down, yoichi’s mom turns to you, "y/n-chan!" she says, pulling you into a hug, "it’s been too long. have you been taking care of yourself?"

you nod, hugging her back, "of course, mom."

yoichi steps forward, expecting a greeting, only to get a quick pat on the head. "ah, and there's yo-chan."

"mom!" he groans.

his father chuckles, lifting little yuki, "my little yuki-chan has gotten so big! look at you!" then, turning to you, "yoichi isn’t giving you trouble, is he?"

"oi! why does everyone assume that?!" yoichi asks.

his mom smirks, "because yoichi was such a weak little thing growing up. always so soft-hearted, getting teary-eyed over the smallest things."

"mom—!"

"oh, like that time he lost a game and clung to me the whole day, pouting?" his dad adds with a laugh.

"mom! dad! enough!"

yuki gasps dramatically. "papa, you used to pout?"

you let out a chuckle while yoichi buries his face in his hands. his mother simply pats his back. "don’t worry, yo-chan. you turned out fine."

"barely," his dad jokes.

taglist: @anuverse @luciddre @kongkhoi @illyriakrasniqi2007 @passw-0-rd @x3nafix @levihanmyotp [open]

[heartsforjh]

reader having big crowd anxiety and qhughes picking up on it leading her through the crowd? 🥲

here you go nonnie! i hope you like! :)

main masterlist | 100 follower celly masterlist

As your boyfriend opens the door for you, a wave of loud talking and laughter hits you immediately. It always amazes you how many people come to these events for Quinn’s work. It’s easy to forget the amount of effort that goes into those fun little games on ice.

You step inside, glancing around as the herd of people closest to the door turns toward you. Naturally, their gaze lingers on Quinn—and then shift to you, standing right beside him. Quinn waves to a few people as the two of you move deeper into the room.

“We’ve gotta find the guys. They’re around here somewhere,” Quinn says, scanning the room.

You nod quickly. Surely being around familiar faces will help ease the nerves that are already starting to build up from all of the attention.

You squeeze his hand, trying to focus on the warmth and pressure of his grip as he holds yours. “Yeah, let’s find them.”

He leads you through the bustling crowd until he eventually spots Elias Pettersson and Conor Garland.

“Hey, you two,” Conor greets, pulling both you and Quinn in for hugs, with Petey following suit.

Quinn’s hand finds its place on your waist as he settles into conversation with his friends. You chime in here and there when something catches your interest, the comfort of their company gradually putting you at ease.

For a while, you feel better, laughing and chatting with the small group. But that changes the second your purse slips from your hand and falls to the ground with a thud. Instinctively, you look around to see if anyone notices, expecting a few fleeting glances.

Your stomach drops when you’re reminded just how many people are around, and they’re all staring. Not just glancing, but staring. Why are they staring? Their eyes linger, waiting—maybe for you to pick it up. The pit in your stomach grows as you start wondering what they might be thinking.

Your chest immediately tightens. The room feels louder and everyone seems closer. When did they get so close? Your chest moves up and down rapidly, desperately trying to get a full breath, but the air gets stuck in your throat.

“Babe, you okay?” Quinn’s voice cuts through the haze, grounding you.

You blink, and suddenly the world is back in focus. He’s holding your purse, having picked it up amidst your small panic.

“I’m- I’m fine,” you stammer, unconvincingly.

Quinn’s eyes search yours, concern etched across his face. “You’re shaking, sweetheart.” His tone is gentle, careful not to draw any more unwanted attention to you.

“I told you—I’m okay,” you insist, but your body betrays you with a slight sway.

Quinn sighs softly, placing his hands on your hips to steady you. “Well, this isn’t okay with me. Come on, let’s go talk.”

Taking your hand, he quietly leads you out of the crowded party room and into the hallway.

Once outside, you squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, trying to calm your racing heart. “Quinn, we don’t have to do this. We should go back in—this is for your job.”

“Y/n, baby, we can go if that’s what you need. It’s just a New Year’s party. We’ll do our own New Years at home,” he assures you, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

You sigh, guilt creeping in. “I just feel selfish. You’re the face of the Canucks—people are going to stare. You shouldn’t have to miss this just because I’m… freaking out.”

Quinn shakes his head, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks as he cups your face in his hands. “You don’t have to get used to anything. You’re dealing with something, and that’s okay. You’re not doing anything wrong. Besides, I can’t enjoy this if I know my girl’s struggling, can I?”

His words melt some of your worries, and a small smile breaks through. “No, I guess not.”

“Also,” he adds with a small grin, “between you and me, I didn’t want to come to this thing anyway.”

You raise an eyebrow, feigning offense. “Wow, so you’re just using me as an excuse to ditch?!”

“What? No! That’s not what I was trying to say! I meant—” his eyes widen, and he fumbles over his words, making you giggle.

“You know what I meant!” he huffs, shaking his head. “You’re a jerk.”

“It was just a joke!” you tease, still laughing as you walk towards the exit with him, hand-in-hand.

Quinn gives a small, dramatic pout. “Why are you so mean to me?”

“I’m not mean to you! I was kidding!” you repeat while laughing even more at his reaction.

Secretly, he’s overjoyed to hear you laughing, even if it is at his expense. He’d gladly let himself be the punchline to your jokes as long as he gets to hear that favorite sound of his.

tags: @beenucks @lukey-pookie-hughes43 @sweetestdesire @azure-dawn81 @emsdevs @puckmedude @joesnumerouno @alex-wotton @r0wdymaize86 @ccomandercody @macklin-celebrini-71 @randomcuboidshape @when-im-with-you @quillycrow @rainyvalentines @alwaysclassyeagle

join the taglist here! :)

[etherealrin]

Hey! Love your works, it's really nice to read them and I just love your style💖, may I request an isagi x reader but the reader is kaiser's little sibling? It sounds fun ☺️

⋆｡˚꩜ a comprehensive tutorial on how to piss off michael kaiser in his penthouse; by yoichi isagi.

yoichi isagi just wants to hang out with you...but your brother is making it quite uncomfortable

warnings: slight violent descriptions (as a joke), michael kaiser gives you no privacy, one mention of google translated german // wc: 957

note: i was giggling the entire time writing this LMAOO imo such a funny dynamic, the rivalry goes crazy.

your bubbly laughs that echo through the penthouse allow isagi to relax, just a little bit. the environment is new to him, and he’s afraid that the smallest slip-up will result in his head being chopped off by one of the rather large, menacing butcher knives lined against the marble kitchen walls.

but what’s even more threatening is the way kaiser is glaring at him, blue gaze more piercing than any dagger.

“micha, you’re making yoi uncomfortable,” you begin, shooting the blonde haired man your own look of annoyance. you turn your attention away from the mixing bowl in front of you to interlace your fingers with yoichi’s, trying to offer him some comfort. isagi wonders if theres nervous sweat on them.

“he’s in my penthouse, with my sibling? am i meant to leave him unattended, to let this donkey roam around with free will?” kaiser huffs, arms crossing.

yikes, was he in a mood today.

“you’re calling my boyfriend a donkey?” yeah, you were ready to throw hands right there.

isagi had practically jumped for joy when you’d invited him over to bake cookies. he somehow managed to forget that you were rival’s little sibling, and that your house was technically also michael’s—of course he would own a penthouse with a city view. michael was an oddly protective elder brother, or maybe his rivalry with yoichi just ran that deeply; was it not enough for isagi to steal the soccer ball on court? did he have to steal michael’s bloodline too?

“go, um, read a psychology book or something,” you say, wanting to get your brother off the scene. “hang out with ness! i’m sure he’d love to!”

yoichi nods his head hurriedly in agreement.

“you think you two are getting rid of me that easily? that’s-“ your brother is cut off mid-scoff, his phone ringing loudly and persistently. you snicker, knowing that you were about to win.

“was zum teufel,” michael spits, picking up the line.

“no, ness, i’m busy…what? you seriously can’t drive yourself? can’t i…uh….i guess you’re right,” he seems to be arguing with ness, going back and forth.

“you two lucky idiots are getting your wish,” michael snaps as he hangs up, hurrying out the door. before it closes, a warning: “isagi, if you try anything, i’ll screw you over before you can blink twice.”

“yeah yeah, shitty rose.” yoichi’s ego gets the best of him. great, now he’d been rude to your brother in front of you!

but you don’t seem to mind, maybe you didn’t care, humming softly as you add chocolate chips to the mix.

"you need to move out," yoichi doesn't think he can visit you if this is how your brother was going to be.

“hmmm, could be worse. what if we made s’mores cookies?” you reply excitedly.

“the ones with marshmallows?”

“yep! i think i have them somewhere,” you pull him into your startling large pantry. the size is almost that of a grocery aisle, and it’s stocked with an insane amount of protein powder—likely your brother’s doing—but you find the small package of the fluffy white sweets tucked away in a corner.

except, you can’t quite get to it, the nook being far above your head.

“let me,” yoichi says, reaching up. he has to be on the tips of his toes, curse michael kaiser for being so damn tall!

as yoichi fumbles above you for a bit, he doesn’t notice the odd position he’s forced you into, your back flush against the shelves. you’re not that much shorter than him, but he’s gripping onto your shoulder for support, and the proximity makes you flustered. he smells good, crisp and clean, a hint of citrus in the mix.

with a small flop, the bag finally comes crashing down, along with yoichi’s balance. he lets out a startled yelp, hurriedly latching onto your other shoulder.

oh.

you blink, fazed by his deep aquamarine eyes, and the way that your noses are practically touching. his breath is ticklish, irregular from the earlier struggle, and a cherry red blush painted across his entire face.

you’re both too scared to move, stuck in the haze, should you move? closer? maybe further?

it’s like that for an agonizingly long second—still—until yoichi chooses for the both of you, his fingertips make contact with your jaw and they’re warm, hot like the kiss he suddenly pulls you into.

you’re far too eager to reciprocate, hands finding their way into his soft dark locks. the cookie batter stays neglected on the sleek white countertop, both of you distracted and lost in another world.

when your lungs threaten to implode from lack of air, that’s when you pull away, gasping softly.

your boyfriend’s face is ten times redder now.

“sorry, i- i should’ve asked first,” yoichi stammers, flustered and unable to meet your eyes.

“it’s fine, i like you when you’re confident, yoi,” you smile, twisting a strand of his hair.

you fail to notice how the front door had opened, and you’re greeted with michael kaiser standing in the hallway, gawking at the two of you.

“why’s he in my pantry?” michael’s pissed now. “of all damn places, could you two not make out in the middle of my protein powder? seriously, that is gross. i won’t be able to drink that shit now!”

“oops,” you giggle. “you’re just upset that you don’t have someone.” your brother lets out an indignant huff, ready to start hell as he marches closer. you’re still snickering.

unfortunately, yoichi cannot find any of this nearly as funny as you do—no, he’s already thinking about the hell your brother’s going to give him during the game tomorrow, convinced that both of the kaisers would be the death of him.

a/n: michael says "what the hell" in german, i just wanted to make it diverse idk. like genuinely isagi is lucky if he makes it through the week dating a kaiser sibling...kaiser is not giving his blessing for the wedding LMFAO

masterlist!

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

I guess only those the reader loves and trusts completely can touch his hair.

Yes, so true. If a reader lets you touch their hair, it's a form of love, trust, and bonding. The only person who got to touch the reader's hair was Alfred because he really cared for the reader and always wanted to help them with their hair. But let's be honest, he doesn't know a thing about curls, but he's willing to try. Since you're the Batfam's new obsession, they'll make it a mission to get your guard down and touch, ruffle, and twirl their fingers around your curls and dreadlocks. They treat you like a cat, really, but just like a cat, you refuse to let them touch you or your hair. But sometimes you get vulnerable and need to ask for help. What do you do? You swallow your pride and deal with the shame later.

"Hey Bruce, could you tie my hair back for me? For some reason, they don't want to cooperate today," you sighed, looking up at the tall man. Nothing ever shocked Batman—hell, nothing ever shocked Bruce Wayne—but this was shocking. When your middle child, who avoids you like the plague, asks you for help, he tries not to act ecstatic.

"Sure, of course, come here, sit." He didn't even bother to turn off his laptop. Sure, he was scheduling an important meeting, but this was more important. You never asked for help; you could be holding the whole world on your shoulders, and you still wouldn't ask for help. You sat on his knee, and you started to feel like a child once again, letting his calloused fingers run through your dreads. For a man so busy beating up bad guys, he could be very gentle.

"Your hair is getting longer," he muttered.

"It's reaching your shoulders," he continued.

"Yeah, I know." You answered fast.

You let your old man tie your hair back, and to him it looked like black licorice. But if he we're to say that out loud, you probably hit him.

"You know, if you ever need my help with your hair, I'll be happy to. I mean, I've never done hair like yours before, but I could learn and try," he started to ramble, and you really want him to shut up.

"It's fine; I already have a hair appointment," you started to step out of the living room.

"And thanks or whatever..." you huffed. Deep down, you wanted to cry; this was the first time your father felt like a father.

[coolemmasulivan2]

A Beautiful Mess | 1

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: Two neighbors who can’t stand each other, until an accidental kiss changes everything.

Word count: 2846

But close ain't close enough 'Till we cross the line So name a game to play And I'll roll the dice, hey

You and Lando Norris had a problem with each other. There was no denying it. Something about the other person made your skin prickle with irritation, like an itch you couldn't scratch.

You were a Monegasque kindergarten teacher, a job that suited you perfectly. You adored kids. Their joy and innocence made your life simpler.

Monaco had always been your sanctuary: peaceful, elegant, yours. But that changed the moment Lando moved in next door a few years back.

You got along with everyone. It was just who you were. Friendly, patient, easygoing. But him? He was the exception. Loud, cocky, and an absolute menace of a neighbor. Even if he spent most of the year traveling, when he was home, he made sure you knew. The roaring engines, the late-night laughter, the endless stream of people coming and going. It was chaos wrapped in luxury.

He could've lived anywhere. He had the money. But somehow, out of all the places in Monaco, he chose your building.

"I guess Lando's back?" Your sister said, raising an eyebrow as loud music blasted from the apartment next door.

You let out a deep sigh, chopping vegetables with more force than necessary. "He's been back for a while… unfortunately."

A smirk tugged at her lips. "Let me guess, he did something already?"

"Oh, just parked in my spot today. Again." You shot her an exasperated look before slamming the knife against the cutting board. "Someday I'll kill him. I swear."

She chuckled. "Maybe he's running out of places to park his collection."

"I don't care!" You huffed. "He's a billionaire, he can buy a garage. Or better yet, move to a bigger place and stop being my problem."

"You know he does all of this just to piss you off, right?" Your sister said as she sat at the dining table, watching you set down the salad. "You should just ignore him."

"I know!" You groaned, sinking into the chair across from her. "But I can't. He's impossible to ignore. He knows exactly how to push my buttons."

Lando and Max were deep into a racing simulator session, music blasting through the apartment as they waited for their food to be ready.

It was Max's turn on the sim, but the pounding music was messing with his concentration. "Dude, the music... turn it down." He grumbled, eyes locked on the screen.

Lando barely glanced up from his phone. "Why?"

"Because I can't focus! It's too damn loud." Max tried to keep his attention on the race. "Someone's going to complaine about the noise." Then a thought struck him. He paused the race and shot Lando a knowing look. "Wait a second… You want this, don't you?"

Lando shrugged. "No idea what you're talking about."

Max scoffed. "Bullshit. You're trying to piss her off. You want her to came here. That's why the music's so loud. What's your problem with her?"

Lando smirked, eyes flicking back to his phone. "It's fun watching her all worked up."

Max shook his head, half amused, half exasperated. "You know, she's actually really nice."

Lando snorted. "To you and everyone else. Not to me."

"Yeah, because you're an asshole."

Lando finally dropped his phone onto the desk and leaned back in his chair. "She's been like that since day one. She started it."

"And instead of finding out why, you just decided to make things worse." Max said, shaking his head. "Classic you!"

Before Lando could fire back, a knock on the door echoed through the apartment.

His smirk widened. "Told you, she can't stay away." He pushed up from his seat, heading for the door.

Max groaned, calling after him, "Dude, be nice, please!"

You bit your nails, pacing as you waited for Lando to answer his door. Normally, you were a calm and patient person. But Lando Norris had a talent for bringing out the absolute worst in you. And the worst part? He enjoyed it. You knew he did.

Inside your apartment you heard the door finally open.

"Hi!" Your sister's voice rang out, soft and sweet, just like she always was. Unlike you, she had never raised her voice in frustration, not even to assholes like Lando.

"Oh, hi!" Lando's voice dripped with warmth, and you immediately rolled your eyes. Of course, he could turn on the charm when he wanted to.

"Sorry to bother you…"

"No problem!" He said. You nearly gagged.

"Could you turn the music down a little?" Your sister asked politely.

"Yeah, of course. Sorry about that, I didn't even realize it was that loud. Really, I'm so sorry."

Your jaw nearly hit the floor.

You had stood at his door countless times, asking the same thing, and every single time, he would gave you a cocky remark, or worst of all, he'd turned the music up louder just to spite you. But with your sister? He was suddenly the picture of politeness.

You were seconds away from storming out of your apartment to tell him exactly what you thought of his two-faced behavior, but your sister's voice stopped you.

"I appreciate it. Goodnight."

"Goodnight!" Lando replied smoothly. You let out a deep breath, leaning your head against the wall in frustration. Your sister had just started pushing the door open when Lando added: "Oh, and say hi to your sister for me."

That was it. You clenched your fists, shoving past your sister, ready to wipe that smug grin off his face, but before you could get a single word out, his door clicked shut.

"I hate him so much."

From the other side of the door, Lando grinned like an idiot, watching you through the peephole as you stomped away in frustration.

"There's just something special about pissing her off." He mused, clearly enjoying himself.

Max, standing behind him with his arms crossed, let out a sigh. "You're an idiot."

Two days had passed since your sister left for Rome, where she lived with her boyfriend. You were alone again, not that it bothered you. Your parents still lived in Monaco, in the house you grew up in, and you saw them almost every day.

One of the things you loved most about Monaco was being so close to the ocean. Every morning, as soon as you opened your bedroom window, you would close your eyes and breathe it in—the salty air, the gentle breeze, the familiar scent that made you feel at home. It was the perfect way to start the day, making your morning run that much easier.

Like always, before heading to work, you laced up your shoes and stepped outside. Today was no exception.

You had been running for a while, sweat clinging to your skin as your breath fell into a steady rhythm. The music playing softly in your ears didn't drown out the sounds of the city.

Lost in thought, you instinctively turned toward your building, crossing the road without a second glance.

The loud sound of tires screeching against the asphalt snapped you out of your trance. A rush of air whooshed past as a sleek car came to a sudden stop just inches from you. Your heart leaped into your throat, your body reacting before your mind caught up. You stumbled back and before you could stop yourself, you were on the ground.

The driver's side door swung open, and before you even looked up, you knew exactly who it was.

Lando stepped out, his expression a mix of worry and frustration, but before he could speak, you were already pushing yourself to your feet, your hands shaking slightly from the adrenaline.

"Are you insane?" You snapped, ripping your airpods out. "You almost ran me over!"

His brows shot up. "Me? You're the one who ran straight into the road without looking!"

You opened your mouth to argue, but the truth of his words sank in. Still, there was no way you were letting him win this. "Maybe if you weren't driving like a lunatic--"

Lando scoffed, running a hand through his hair. "Driving like a lunatic? I was literally pulling out of the garage."

You huffed, brushing the dirt off your leggings. "What if it was a kid crossing instead of me?"

"Then I would've stopped, just like I did now." He shot back. "But you... You didn't even look before stepping onto the road! What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that I wouldn't have to worry about being flattened by my obnoxious neighbor before eight in the morning!"

Lando shook his head, a smirk tugging at his lips. "You're unbelievable."

"You're infuriating."

"You're dramatic."

"You're--"

"Y/n?" A new voice cut through the tension, making both of you turn. Standing a few feet away was your kindergarten director. Dressed in his usual grey suit, he raised an eyebrow at the two of you. "Is everything alright?" He asked.

You cleared your throat, suddenly aware of how ridiculous this must have looked, standing in the middle of the street, flustered, sweaty, and arguing with a F1 driver.

"Yes, everything's fine!" You said quickly, forcing a polite smile.

Monsieur Bernard nodded, then glanced at Lando. "I didn't realize you knew such a famous driver, Y/n!" He stretched his hand and Lando shook it.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. "We're just neighbors."

Lando grinned. "Very close neighbors."

You shot him a glare, but before you could say anything, Monsieur Bernard continued. "You know, our little ones love racing. It would be wonderful if you could visit the school sometime, talk to the kids about it."

"Oh!" You forced a polite chuckle. "I'm sure Lando is far too busy. I wouldn't want to take up his time."

Lando, to your absolute horror, shrugged. "Actually, I think it's a great idea." You snapped your head toward him, eyes wide. "Yeah, why not? I've got some time before the season starts again. I'd love to come by."

Monsieur Bernard smiled. "That's wonderful! Y/n, can you please set everything up?" You smiled and nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Norris. It was nice to meet you."

"Likewise." As Monsieur Bernard walked away, you groaned, rubbing your temples. Lando chuckled, slipping his hands into his pockets. "See? I can be a good neighbor."

You exhaled sharply, turning on your heel toward your building. "I hope the kids throw paint at you."

Lando chuckled, watching you storm off, clearly frustrated with how the day had started. His gaze lingered for a moment longer than necessary and not even he could deny that your ass looked good on those leggings.

"Stop it, Lando!" He muttered to himself, shaking his head as if it would physically shake the thoughts away. "Don't go there."

With a deep breath, he slid back into his car, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter than necessary. Without another glance at the building, he drove off.

You lay in bed, scrolling through your phone, hoping to lull yourself to sleep. The soft glow of the screen was the only light in the room, your thumb moving lazily over the screen, until something in your feed made you pause.

Your eyes narrowed as you clicked on the reel. A fan edit of your annoying neighbor filled your screen, all set to a song that did nothing to make him look innocent. Quite the opposite.

Your breath hitched slightly, your eyes locked on the video as if trapped in some kind of trance. The way he carried himself, the confidence, the effortless charm-- No. Absolutely not.

The reel restarted, snapping you out of whatever trance had just taken over you. With a horrified gasp, you jolted upright, tossing your phone onto the bed like it had burned you.

"Ugh-- no. What the hell?" You threw a pillow at your phone, like the device was alive. "Even on my phone?" You groaned, burying your face in your hands.

This man was infiltrating every corner of your life. And you hated it.

The day had arrived.

The kids had been buzzing with excitement all week, their energy doubling ever since they learned that Lando Norris was coming to visit. It didn't matter that half of them were too young to understand F1, but the mere idea of someone fast and famous coming to their school had them bouncing off the walls. You, on the other hand, were bracing yourself for chaos.

You had done your best to keep the kids calm, but by the time the morning rolled around, they were practically vibrating with anticipation. What car does he drive? Will he let us race? Can he do drive in the playground?

And then, Lando arrived. Dressed in his McLaren clothes, sunglasses and wearing that signature smile.

The kids lost their minds. "Landoooooo!" The group rushed toward him, bombarding him with questions before he could even say a word.

"Whoa, whoa, one at a time!" Lando laughed, crouching down to be at their level.

You stood at a distance, arms crossed, watching as he handled the chaos with surprising ease.

"Can you drive faster than Batman?"

"Can we race you?"

"Do you get scared when you go super fast?"

Lando hesitated for a second, then grinned. "Sometimes! But that's what makes it exciting."

You rolled your eyes. Still, you couldn't deny that the kids adored him. They hung onto their seats, eyes wide with fascination as he described what it felt like to race at over 300 km/h, how he trained, and even how he sometimes got nervous before big races.

Somewhere in the middle of the chaos, you realized that Lando was actually good at this. He had their full attention, something you usually had to work twice as hard for.

And then, as if sensing your thoughts, he caught your eye from across the room and winked, making you gag.

Unfortunately for Lando, someone else caught the moment.

A little girl sitting nearby tilted her head curiously, her big eyes flicking between the two of you. "Is Miss Y/n your girlfriend?" She asked innocently.

Lando, who had just taken a sip of water, immediately started coughing. He nearly choked, hand flying to his chest as he struggled to recover. "What?"

You, on the other hand, wanted the earth to swallow you whole. The rest of the kids, now very interested, turned toward you both with excited expressions.

"Is that why you're here?" Another girl asked, eyes wide with curiosity.

"Do you live together?" A boy asked before Lando could even recover from the first question.

Lando, still slightly choking, looked horrified.

"Nope!" You cut in quickly, clapping your hands together in a desperate attempt to redirect the conversation. "Who wants to show Lando their artwork?"

A chorus of Me! Me! Me! erupted, and just like that, the kids forgot all about their matchmaking attempts, eagerly rushing to grab their drawings.

You let out a slow breath, glancing at Lando, who was still lightly hitting his chest.

"What the hell just happened?" He asked, his voice still uneven.

You crossing your arms. "They're kids, Lando! If you wink at their teacher, this is what you get."

"A vision of a nightmare?"

You shot him a glare. "Asshole!"

He smirked. "Such a dirty mouth for a kindergarten teacher."

Your jaw clenched. You took a deep breath, forcing a smile as sweet as honey. "And yet, still more mature than a F1 driver."

Lando grinned, leaning in just a little. "Debatable."

Before you could walk away from Lando, chaos erupted.

"Me first!"

"No, me!"

Two of the kids appeared out of nowhere, each clutching their artwork, too focused on their battle to notice where they were going. Straight into you.

You barely had time to react before they crashed into your legs, making you lose balance.

"Oh--"

Lando was sat in a chair right in front of you, and before you could steady yourself, you stumbled forward and fell right into him.

His hands instinctively came up to catch you, but it was too late. Your lips brushed against his. It was barely a touch, but enough to make the world stop.

The kids were still yelling, the classroom still buzzing with energy, completely unaware of what had just happened, but all you could register was the way your lips were still touching.

You quickly pulled back, eyes wide, heart racing. Lando blinked up at you, looking just as stunned, his lips slightly parted as if he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words.

You straightened, feeling warmth creeping up your neck,

"This is my drawing." One of the kids said, tugging at Lando's sleeve. "It's a boat and this is my dad."

That snapped Lando out of it. He cleared his throat and looked away from you. "Wow, that's amazing! You're so talented."

You turned away quickly, your pulse still hammering as you focused on the children, pretending like nothing had happened.

Lando rubbed the back of his neck, still looking anywhere but at you.

For once, there were no smirks, no teasing, just the feeling that something between you had just shifted.

[akawifeyy]

LEMONADE | fic (DR3)

description: as much as he would miss the high-stakes lifestyle of formula 1, daniel ricciardo is ready to start fresh. and the perfect start seems to be in his hometown, where a little girl is running a lemonade stand.

tropes: meet-cute, happy ending, lemonade stand au!, single mum!reader

face claim: none

trigger warnings: mature content (!!), swearing

| note: i love dr3 soooo much y'all, i hope i did him justice 🫶

It all started with the lemonade stand.

A young girl, probably five or six years old, with curly brown braids tied up in pink ribbons, was standing by its side. She stood at attention like a miniature soldier, her eyes watching the street for potential customers.

The hand-painted sign swinging from the top read "Leia's Lemonade Stand" in blocky yellow writing, and a giant beaker of the refreshment was perched on the counter.

Daniel was intrigued. He patted his pockets, looking for any spare change, and found a wad of bills. "Hey," he greeted the little girl, who looked up at him with owlishly large eyes. "I'd like to buy some lemonade? One glass, please."

She beamed, dashing behind the counter to hand him a cool glass filled with sugary yellow liquid. "That'll be two dollars!"

"Here you go," Daniel said, counting out the money and leaving her some extra change, handing it to her. "Thank you for your service."

As Daniel was turning to leave, you walked up to the girl, who was your carbon copy, just a decade or two younger. You were her mother, Daniel assumed. "What do we say, Leia?" you asked, a proud smile evident on your face.

"Thank you and you're welcome!" Leia chirped.

Daniel took a sip of the cool refreshment, sighing in contentment. "This is delicious stuff. Did she make it herself?" he asked you.

"I helped out a bit, but most of this was done herself."

He outstretched his hand. "I'm Daniel."

"Y/N," you replied, taking it. "I haven't seen you around before. Did you just move here?"

Daniel shook his head, trying to formulate an answer. "I just moved back from, uh...out of the country."

"Oh?" you inquired. "I'm jealous, I've never lived outside of Perth. My parents were born here, I was born here, and now Leia was born here. It's tradition, I guess."

He laughed. "Perth is a nice place. The rest of the world is overrated."

"At least you've experienced it," you griped.

Daniel huffed out a breath, reminiscing on his years of fast-paced travel. City after city, country after country. He never stayed in one place for long. "Yeah, I suppose so. Have you really never been outside of Perth?"

You lowered your head, self-conscious. "I mean, I've visited Melbourne for a weekend girl's trip, but my life has been pretty busy ever since I had Leia. And her father...doesn't help out."

Daniel's attention sparked at the mention of Leia's father. "Is he around?"

You twisted your lips in consternation. "He's alive, but he skipped town shortly after Leia was born. Said he was destined for greater things, or some shitty statement like that. I don't remember, and frankly, I do not care. Leia and I get on just fine."

Daniel grinned. "I can tell." He set the glass back down on the counter, and Leia picked it up, putting it under the stand to be washed and cleaned later. "Thanks for the lemonade. Keep up the good work, hm?" he said to her, and she gave him two enthusiastic thumbs-up.

"I'll see you around?" you asked, hopefully in a casual tone.

Daniel nodded, giving you a cheesy wink. "Of course."

Two days later

The doorbell rung half past noon, and you checked the peephole to see who was there. Daniel. He was shifting nervously, wringing his hands out. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" you greeted him, stepping aside so he could enter the house.

"I was wondering if I could get another glass of the lemonade? Leia's done an amazing job with it."

You sighed sorrowfully. "We're all out, sorry. Leia has just started school again, so we haven't continued the business. Maybe we'll make some more during the weekend?"

Daniel pouted. "That blows. I've been looking for a way to talk to you again."

"Sorry." You shrugged one shoulder, and then you realized what Daniel had said. "Pardon me, what did you say?"

Daniel's eyes widened, his face reddening with embarrassment. "Uh, I was hoping to chat with you a bit? If that's alright? I don't want to intrude."

You shook your head, leading him into the living room. A variety of Leia's toys were scattered about, and you bent down to pick them up and move them out of the way. "It's OK, don't worry. My job's remote, so I don't have to leave or anything. Not until two, when Leia comes home from school."

"Great," Daniel said, sitting down on the couch beside you. "I've been bored out of my mind since I've come back to Perth."

You swallowed, not exactly sure of how to respond. "Yeah? Is your past haunting you or something?"

Daniel chuckled. "Not exactly. I'm just used to a lot of hustle-and-bustle, and Perth...isn't really delivering on that."

"Where did you work?" you asked.

He fidgeted with his hands. "Er...I used to be a Formula One driver. I know, wild, but yeah. DR3." He laughed again, but this time it was dry and full of resentment.

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Formula One? My sister's obsessed with it. Wow, that's really cool."

"Yeah, it is. But they moved on to better talent, and now I'm back here." He slouched down, avoiding your gaze.

You gently nudged his shoulder. "Well, I'm glad you've returned and that we've met."

He gave you a wan half-smile.

For another hour, you two chatted away, talking about your past, about Leia, and about your hobbies. You told him about your Star Wars obsession (aka the reason why you'd chosen the name Leia for your daughter), showing him the vintage R2D2 toy you kept on your bookshelf. In return, he told you about how he used to go fishing with his parents in Lake Monger and about some of his F1 exploits.

Eventually, the alarm you set to keep track of when to pick Leia up went off, marking the end of your conversation. "I've got to go," you apologized.

"It's no problem." Daniel waved a hand, brushing you off. "Here's my number in case you want to keep in touch?" He wrote it down on a piece of paper and handed it to you.

"Thanks," you said, flustered.

"See you around, Y/N," he said as he stepped out the front door.

Text messages between Daniel and Y/N (Takes place a week to two months after their first meeting)

Sydney, Australia (Two months later)

"Come on, Leia," you urged your daughter as you led her through a thick crowd of people in the airport. "Don't let go of my hand."

Daniel was in front, leading you towards the exit, where a glossy crimson Ferrari was parked. "Here we go." He opened the door for you, sliding beside you and helping to buckle Leia in.

You smiled at him. "Thanks so much for inviting us."

"No problem, darling."

The pet name sent a curl of heat through your core, and you looked out the window so you wouldn't have to respond. The view was stunning: metallic skyscrapers, a bustling city center. You couldn't believe that this was what you were missing out on your whole life.

About twenty minutes later, the car stopped in front of a sleek modern hotel. You saw Daniel's mum wave at you, and swallowed roughly. You prayed that she would like you.

"Leia, be nice," you chastised her before you disembarked from the car. "Use your manners."

Leia bobbed her head up and down. "I know, Mum."

When you walked over, Daniel's mum immediately struck up a conversation with you, pulling you into a tight embrace. "I'm Grace!" she introduced herself. "And this must be little Leia." She bent down to shake Leia's hand. "You look just like her."

"Thanks," you replied. "It's nice to meet you."

Grace put her hand on her heart. "Danny's told me all about you. I'm happy to see that you're exactly as I hoped."

Your gaze whipped to Daniel, who turned even redder. One more shade, and he could pass for a bearded tomato. "Really?"

"Yep!" Grace clapped Daniel on the back. "He loves you."

You blinked, but didn't blurt anything out. "We should probably head inside."

Daniel nodded fervently. "I agree."

That night

"You want to explain to me what your mum told me?" you probed Daniel, crossing your arms over your chest.

Daniel covered his face with his hands. "Fuck, Y/N, I'm sorry. She's not a good secret keeper."

"Are you saying that she was lying?"

His eyes peeked out from behind his palms. "Do you want me to say no?"

"Tell me the truth," you scolded.

Daniel sighed and took a step closer to you. "She wasn't. Ever since I saw you at that lemonade stand, I thought you were the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. You're funny, and strong, and independent. I want to prove to you that I won't be like the other one. I'm here to stay."

Without a second's worth of hesitation, you tugged on his shirt collar, pulling him down to your height, and kissed him. He moaned softly, his arms snaking around your waist and caging you against the wall. "Fuck, Y/N."

The kiss became more passionate as you tangled your fingers in Daniel's brown curls, and his own found the swell of your breasts underneath your shirt. "You're so perfect," he murmured softly. "Can I?"

You nodded, at a loss for words. Daniel lifted your shirt over your head, revealing the lacy pink bra you were wearing. "Fuck, I'm going to come in my pants like a schoolboy right now. My God, you're a fucking work of art."

You unbuttoned his shirt and loosened the waistband of his pants, letting them fall to the floor. Daniel picked you up, placing you on the bed. "The door's locked," he assured you when you opened your mouth. "If we're quiet, Leia won't know anything."

"Good," you whispered. "I don't want to traumatize her."

He laughed, and kissed you again on the collarbone. Carefully, he placed your hands above your head and said, "I want to have sex with you. Is that OK?"

"You don't have to ask, Daniel," you rasped.

Daniel shook his head. "Yes, I do. Consent is not a laughing matter, darling."

You expelled a breath in faux-annoyance, and he continued his mission. One slow thrust, and he was in you, filling your pussy and making you groan with pleasure. "Daniel..."

"Does it hurt?" he asked worriedly. "I'll go slower."

You twisted your head to look at him. "No, it's fine. Just...not used to this. It's been a while."

He pecked you on the forehead, his arms caressing the curves of your skin. "I won't hurt you, I promise."

He drove into you, the movements firm and sure. Soon, you felt the tidal wave of pleasure build up in you like an insistent hum. "Daniel, I'm going to..." you trailed off, the sentence ending with another moan.

Daniel kissed you on the temple, the touch exactly what you needed to tumble over the edge. "Let go for me, darling."

And so you did, the orgasm rippling over you and making you shudder with satisfaction.

He pulled out a moment later, his own orgasm succeeding yours, and he flopped down beside you, one arm wresting you closer to him. "You're stunning."

"When I'm all fucked out?" you teased.

Daniel played with a loose strand of your hair, his eyes bright with happiness. "Yep."

"You're so silly, Daniel," you poked fun at him, tapping his nose twice.

He flicked your nose, and stated the very obvious fact, "But you adore me."

Three weeks later

Daniel clutched the bouquet of tulips in his hand, suddenly nervous. It wasn't the first time he had taken you out on a date. Hell, it wasn't even the second time. Yet each and every time, he was terrified.

You were perfect.

And he was...he was Daniel, the former F1 driver for four teams.

"Thanks for picking me up," you told him as he ushered you to his car. "I really appreciate it."

He gave you a quick kiss on the forehead. "No problem, darling."

You sat down, and then readjusted your position, feeling something poking your back. It was a box.

"Not a ring," he promised when he saw your expression. "I wouldn't have you accidentally sit on your engagement ring, darling."

You scowled at him, but popped open the top. A beautiful ruby necklace gleamed up at you, and you let out a gasp.

"It's my mother's. She wanted you to have it," Daniel told you.

"Wow, Daniel. This is...breath-taking." You hugged him.

"Just like you," he flirted, and you rolled your eyes. "It's the truth."

You extricated the necklace from the box and clipped it around your neck. "How does it look?"

"Perfect." He kissed you on the lips, one hand nestled on the crook of your jaw. "And all mine."

─── ୨୧ ─── THE END ─── ୨୧ ───

[melodyreads]

Our Little Secret

You and Hamzah are in a secret relationship. While you guys kept each other a secret to protect one another, was it really what you both wanted?

Contains: fem reader, angst, confused reader, lack of communication, arguing, happy ending <3

a/n: I appreciate all the love I've received for my most recent works. Hope you guys enjoy this one, it's definitely my best yet.

---

From an outside perspective, there was nothing out of the ordinary about this situation. Just two couples out on a double date. Me, Mandy, Martin, and Hamzah grabbing dinner at our usual pizza spot. Nothing suspicious. Nothing complicated. Just friends catching up.

Mandy waved kindly as she saw me approach their group. Martin stood next to her seemingly making a joke to Hamzah as he stood there with his hands in his pockets wearing a neutral expression on his face. That was, until he saw me arrive.

A familiar feeling of excitement filled my stomach at the look on Hamzah’s face. I wanted to run up to him and throw my arms around him while greeting him with a kiss. He would smile down at me as his left hand placed itself in my back jean pocket.

Except, of course, Martin and Mandy were the only couple actually together. 

I guess you could say me and Hamzah were together too. We basically lived at each other's apartments, always leaving clothes in each other's space. I would wake up to Hamzah’s messy curls aghast on the pillow next to mine. I would plant his face with kisses as he grabbed my waist and pulled me on top of him.  

We were together, but in a, “we don’t want to put a label on it” kind of way. No commitments, no pressure—just what we wanted.

I wasn’t so sure about that anymore.

For me, it was about not wanting anything serious right now. I wanted to protect my relationship with Hamzah, what we had was different than anything I had experienced with boyfriends in the past.

For Hamzah, it had more to do with his online image— he didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable with their fans' inevitable perceptions of you if you two were to date. I joked that he was just playing up the “I’m available” act for his followers. He would always roll his eyes but I’m sure this was part of it.

If people found out we were together, it’d ruin the whole thing. Which is why I had to be extra careful. Even around our best friends.

So imagine my horror when, halfway through dinner, Martin suddenly narrows his eyes at me.

“Hey… isn’t that Hamzah’s sweater?”

The table goes silent and my stomach drops.

I freeze with my pizza halfway to my mouth, my brain scrambling for a response. The oversized grey hoodie I’m wearing is definitely Hamzah’s— the words “nap queen” in black letters I envisioned on my chest made me want to laugh and bury my head in my hands at the same time. I didn’t even think about it when I threw it on before leaving.

It even smelled like him.

I set my pizza down trying to brush it off, “Am I not allowed to wear your guys merch anymore? Y’all should be grateful.” I say acting offended.

Mandy’s eyes flick between me and Hamzah, who—thank god—keeps his expression cool, shoveling food into his mouth as he nodded his head at my response..

Martin, however, is still staring. “I swear that one is yours though, isn’t it Hamzah? It has the exact same material as the one you wear. ”

I let out a short laugh, trying to play it off. “I’m not sure why because this one is mine.” My voice started to shake

Pull it together.

“It looks exactly like Hamzah’s,” Martin insists. He turns to Mandy. “Doesn’t it?”

Mandy shrugs, sipping her drink. “A lot of those hoodies look the same.”

Hamzah finally speaks, his voice casual but just a little too fast. “Yeah, man, it’s just a hoodie. All those hoodies look the same, part of the reason we sold so many.”

Martin still looks unconvinced, but he lets it go, turning his attention back to his food. My entire body is tense, and across the table, I can feel Hamzah suppressing a smirk.

Under the table, his finger interlocks with mine, a slow, deliberate touch that sends a jolt up my spine. I flick my eyes toward him, and there’s something smug in his gaze—something knowing.

I roll my eyes at him, trying to ignore the way my face feels hot.

That was too close.

But the truth is, I kind of love the risk. I love the way we sneak glances at each other when no one’s looking, the way my body reacts when he’s just close enough to touch but doesn’t. I love the late nights, the whispered conversations, the fact that we’re both holding onto something we’re pretending we don’t want to name.

God I wanted him bad.

---

The party was loud—too loud. Music pulsed through the walls, and the mix of voices, laughter, and the occasional clatter of a drink being set down filled the air. Mandy and Martin were off in their own little world, and I had lost track of most people in the crowd.

Hamzah settled next to me "How're you doing?" he asked, leaning down to meet my ears while looking out into the sea of people.

I sighed in response, "Alright, I guess..." I snapped my head to meet Hamzah's dark eyes, "...Can we go home soon?" I asked sticking out my bottom lip. He chuckled before leaning down once more.

"Come with me," he murmured, his voice just low enough for only me to hear.

I barely had time to react before his fingers brushed against my wrist—just a ghost of a touch, but enough to send a jolt through me. Before I knew it, I was being pulled down the hall, away from the noise, away from prying eyes.

He didn’t stop until we were inside an empty room, the door clicking shut behind us. The sudden quiet made my pulse hammer in my ears.

"Wait, what if someone sees?" I whispered, even though I was far too gone to start moving away from him.

Hamzah exhaled, leaning back against the door with a sly look covering his face. His eyes were dark, and the dim lighting cast sharp shadows on his face. "I don't care," he said.

That was a lie. He did care. We both did. That was the whole reason we were keeping this secret.

And yet… here we were.

The tension thickened in the air between us, something unspoken crackling like a wire about to snap. Hamzah's jaw tightened, his fingers twitching at his sides before he finally gave in, stepping closer.

I barely had time to breathe before his hands cupped my face, his touch gentle despite the desperation in his eyes. This was the last look I could register before his lips were on mine.

A slow, deep kiss started, stealing the air from my lungs, and making my heart stutter.

I wanted this. God, I wanted this.

But before I could get too carried away, I thought of where we could have been. Kissing in the middle of a crowd, unwavering concerns about what others around us thought. His hand in mine not hidden beneath a table, but revealed proudly.

The weight of it—the secret, the hiding, the way we only allowed ourselves these moments in the dark—it was all too much.

A sharp pang in my chest pulled me back to reality. Before I could stop myself, I tore away, my breath ragged.

“Hamzah, I—” My voice broke, my hands shaking as I stepped back. “I can’t keep doing this.”

His brows furrowed, his hands hovering in the empty space between us like he wanted to pull me back but knew he shouldn’t. “What do you mean... what's wrong?”

I forced a swallow, blinking hard. “Being with you in secret... it just hurts too much.” My voice was barely above a whisper, but the way Hamzah flinched made it clear he heard every word.

His lips parted, like he was about to say something, but I couldn’t stand there and let him try to fix it with more whispered reassurances, more stolen touches that would only leave me aching for something real.

Before he could even get a word out, I was already out the door.

I pushed past the crowd, the music and chatter barely registering. My chest was tight, my pulse racing. I needed air.

I needed to get out of here.

The cold night air hit me as I stepped outside, but it didn't stop me. As I started to come to terms with what just happened, tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, threatening to spill. I sucked in a sharp breath, hugging my arms around myself, trying to shake the feeling of Hamzah’s hands still lingering on my skin.

Then, I heard determined footsteps tracking behind me.

“Wait.”

Hamzah’s voice.

I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself not to turn around. But then his hand caught mine, stopping me in my tracks.

I exhaled shakily as he moved in front of me, his brows furrowed, his expression torn between frustration and desperation. Whatever it was caused your whole body to shudder.

“I don’t want to hide anymore,” he said, his voice rough, his grip tightening just slightly, “Not if it means losing you.”

I swallowed hard, my heart hammering. “What about your whole ‘single guy’ thing? What about—”

“Screw all that,” he cut me off, shaking his head. “None of it matters if it means I can’t be with you. I don’t care who knows.”

The words hit me like a punch to the chest, knocking the air out of me.

I searched his face, looking for hesitation, for doubt. But there was none. Just him—bare, vulnerable, real.

A shaky laugh left my lips, part disbelief, part relief. “Are you sure about this?”

Hamzah let out a soft chuckle, his hand lifting to brush a strand of hair from my face before resting gently against my cheek. “Yeah, I mean it.” His thumb traced my skin, slow and reverent. “I want you. For real.”

I didn’t need any more convincing.

This time, when I reached out and kissed him, I wasn’t thinking about the consequences. About who was watching or who would care. What came next and what the future held.

From now on, we came first.

---

a/n: Hope you'll enjoyed this!!!!! It's so hard to end stories, but I think I'm getting better at it lol. Lmk if you guys want a part two????????

[jjscrybaby]

could you do kook!reader spoiling jj? like, they're surprisingly really good friends and she's always getting stuff that she thinks he might need or want, like he comes over and she's doing skin care and she'll do his, or bringing him lunch, even buying him rings or surf supplies and everytime he gets all choked up and red because she's so sweet to him, just wanting to make him happy, and all his friends tease him for it calling her his sugar mommy and everything (all cutesy, sfw ^^)

jj maybank x kook!fem!reader | fluff | (sweetheart!reader, both are massive simps honestly, reader spending too much money on jj, lotta fluff!)

finally getting to my requests! hope you enjoy baby🩷 after writing this i’ve realised i have an obsession with jj and a sweetheart kook so if anyone has any requests for them i’m allll ears!!

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

One thing about JJ was that he wasn’t used to being spoiled. That made sense, with the way he’d grown up and the people he was friends with. The Pogues all adored each other, but they showed their love with banter and loyalty not with gifts and affection. That was probably the reason he turned into a teenage girl every time you were around, because you always had something for him.

It was a known fact that you had a crush on him, ever since Sarah had started dating John B and dragged you along with her you’d thought JJ was cute. At first, he wasn’t a huge fan of you, you were a Kook and in his eyes that made you the enemy. It only took a few days for that novelty to wear off, once he realised there wasn’t a cruel bone in your body.

It was after a couple months of friendship that the never-ending string of affection began. Showing up to his work with his favourite sandwich in a paper bag — a heart drawn on like you were his mother sending him to kindergarten — buying him a new board after he was complaining about how old his was getting, realising there was hardly any body wash left in the bathroom so ordering three bottles for next day delivery. He’d blush and stammer over his words every single time, you just had that effect on him and he couldn’t work out why.

“There she is, JJ’s sugar mama,” John B teased as you came skipping into the Chateau with a shopping bag in hand; nothing out of the ordinary.

“Shut up,” JJ grumbled, shooting him a look before turning to you. “Hey, sweetheart.”

“Hi, guys,” you beamed, sitting down on the couch beside the blonde. Your knee was bouncing excitedly, just waiting for one of them to ask you what you’d brought.

“What’s in the bag?” John B finally asked, a smirk on his face.

You instantly opened it up, grabbing a shirt from the top to throw his way. You didn’t want him to feel left out, although Sarah spent enough money on him that you didn’t feel quite so guilty for showing up with presents for JJ and nothing for John B.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” John B laughed, catching it with ease. He held it up, grinning at the shirt. You imagined he was similar to JJ in the sense that he didn’t get a lot growing up, although you always smiled in the same way whenever you bought yourself a cute outfit.

“It’s the same colour as your eyes!” You exclaimed, a cheesy smile on your face. You liked treating your friends, it was probably the thing that brought you the most happiness.

“Well, I appreciate it, thanks kid,” John B smiled, standing up to give you a pat on the shoulder. “I’m guessing everything else in there is for Mr Maybank here.”

JJ’s cheeks instantly lit up, looking away to try and cover it before his friend could make fun of him. John B stifled a laugh as you nodded sheepishly. You knew that they’d all worked out how you felt about JJ, you’d always drunkenly told John B and Sarah that you wanted to have his babies so that probably gave it away.

“I’m gonna go try this on,” John B decided, ruffling your hair before disappearing inside the Chateau. JJ took a moment to thank God for that, he hated reacting like an idiot in front of the others.

“You know, us inviting you ‘round doesn’t mean you have to bring presents,” JJ stated, scratching his chin awkwardly.

“I know,” you shrugged. “But I was at the mall, and there was so much cute stuff! I got this skirt, too.” You tugged on the end of your baby pink skirt and he let out a soft laugh.

“Go on then, show me what you got,” he sighed, watching as you squealed and started to empty the shopping bag.

There were at least six new shirts in there, a pair of cargo shorts because he’d ripped his at a kegger, some new rings just because and a sweatshirt he himself had been saving up for. He had the same reaction as always, a lump in his throat as he wondered what he’d done in his past life to deserve such kindness and a blush coating his cheeks as you rambled on about how good you thought he’d look in the shirts.

“Do you like them?” You asked softly, after he’d been silent for longer than usual. Normally, he’d stutter out a thank you, kiss your temple and flip off the Pogues as they laughed at him.

“I— yeah, of course I do, but I don’t know if I want you to keep buyin’ me stuff,” JJ said, running a hand over his face.

He could see the way your smile dropped, a look of confusion and hurt in your eyes. “Why?” You asked quietly.

“Because, babe, I— I can’t return the favour, y’know? I don’t have enough money to go ‘round buying you a bunch of stuff, as much as I’d love to. Makes me feel guilty,” he explained, placing his hand on your arm to show he wasn’t mad.

The hurt faded from your face and instead you gave him a soft smile, one reserved for him. “I don’t want you to buy me stuff, I don’t care about that. I like getting you stuff. Besides, it’s not like you don’t do anything for me.”

“What do I do for you?” He questioned, eyebrows furrowing as he tried to think.

“Lots of stuff! You make my coffees when I stay over, and you give me your extra fries. You scare away the boys at parties and you always say I look pretty,” you listed, this time a blush coated your cheeks.

He’d never really thought about it like that, like he was actually doing something for you. In his mind, he knew you liked a coffee so he’d make you one before waking you. He knew the Wreck’s fries were your favourite, that was a given from the way you’d scoff them down, so when you ran out he didn’t mind sharing. The scaring away boys was more for him, he didn’t want any of them swooping you off your feet whilst he was trying to work out how to do that himself. And calling you pretty? Well, you were.

JJ didn’t say anything, an idea came to mind. He reached behind him, undoing the shark tooth necklace he’d been wearing ever since he could remember. You watched him in confusion as he moved your hair out of the way and did it up, grinning as it rested just above your cleavage.

“I know it ain’t designer or anything, and it probably doesn’t got with any of your outfits, but it’s my favourite—” he cut himself off, watching as tears ran down your cheeks. You threw your arms around him and he was quick to wrap his around your waist, letting out a chuckle. “It was, like, a few dollars. No need for the tears, baby.”

“I love it,” you sniffled into his shoulder.

He felt himself pressing a kiss to your cheek, hand stroking over your back. Maybe one day that kiss would be on your lips, and instead of a stupid necklace he’d be buying you a damn ring. Not today though, today he was content with just knowing you’d be wearing a piece of him.

[revelboo]

iiiiinch resting that shockwave has these archival records of Ye Ole Cybertronian/Organic Sparkbonds... would wheeljack have something similar on the flipside? maybe optimus, even?? cuz i cant imagine megatron making another "hey dont fuck the wildlife" psa but for lifespans ykwim??? hell, maybe kup, ratchet or ironhide might but im stumped outside of the first two guesses on if any autobots would be able to dig that up

I just like Shockwave knowing all the random, weird stuff- being a bit of a history buff. Optimus might have encountered that information when he was Orion Pax, but likely would have forgotten it by now.

Pretty much my fics are just Primus being so over his awful kids murdering each other for millennia and also wiping out thousands of organic races and worlds as collateral damage in the process that he pulled out the intergalactic get along sweater. You want to repopulate/ save the Cybertronian race from extinction? Now you’re dependent on not murdering this one organic race that might be every bit as awful about murdering each other as you are. Have fun with that.

Megatron Shitpost Pt 2

• Venting tiredly, he knows he doesn’t have that long before a brawl breaks out. Cramming this many Decepticons in one place is exceptionally ill advised, but fear and intimidation are about all that work on this rabble. “Tarantulas, where are the other bugs?” He demands, scanning the crowd. Sees the scientist stiffen, extra limbs flaring out slightly. ‘As I’ve said countless times, I’m not a bug or an Insecticon,’ Tarantulas hisses. Swallowing a growl, he presses a servo against his helm. “Does anyone know where the Insecticons are? Who’s supposed to be watching them?” And the silence that follows the question is no real surprise. Alright. So those cannibals are loose. And the little, accident prone one, what was his name? Waspinator, maybe? “What about that radioactive lunatic?” A lot of silence is his answer. That one he knows was Shockwave’s responsibility. So it’s entirely possible the scientist just turned Sunstorm loose to see what he’d do. Fantastic.

• “I know that some of you have humans or have been interacting with humans despite being told not to,” Megatron continues when no one volunteers any information on Sunstorm. “I want honesty. Everyone who is harboring a human, raise your hand. Don’t make me go check your habsuites.” And Bonecrusher finally raises a hand, but their human he knows about. “If you make me check your habsuites, I’m going to make all of you as miserable as that waste of time will make me.” There. Skywarp, Thundercracker, and- Vortex? Is that human even still alive? Rumble and Frenzy.

• “Anyone else? Alright. See Scrapper about getting modifications made to your habsuites. As for the rest of you, humans aren’t to be harmed. They’re now a protected species. I don’t care if you frag them, but don’t spark bond them. And don’t draw attention to us.” Aware of Swindle cautiously raising a hand, Megatron growls. “No, I’m not elaborating. But since you’re volunteering, you’ve always been good at acquisitions, Swindle. See if you can get your hands on human food stuffs, clothing.” Staring them all down, daring them to question him while he tries to figure out how this has become his life.

[hyuny-bunny]

seasons // series

part vii

summary: Minho is determined to be the one to win your heart.

warnings: sweat (?), panic attack symptoms (hyperventilating)

part vi • masterlist

"Hey, look at me," Jisung says as he grabs your face. You were beginning to hyperventilate after seeing the look on Minho's face.

"Jisung I-"

"Stop, just breathe, okay, close your eyes," He held your face as you focused on every breath count.

Why did the idea of these two crossing paths make you so anxious and uncomfortable? Minho had been around your ex's before, even going as far as trying to befriend them for your sake. So, why was this any different? After your heart rate began to level, Jisung pulled you into a hug rubbing your back soothingly as he called someone. It was only a few moments after, you picked up you head to see the puppy faced boy who was the 2nd person closest to you.

Seungmin took the seat on your on the side of you before ruffling your hair.

"What's wrong?" He asked sympathetically. Even his voice was enough to ground you in something.

You gave him the run down of saturday morning's argument with Minho, then going out and meeting Hyunjin, going home with Hyunjin, to now sitting outside the dance studio where the two have crossed paths.

Seungmin doesn't shame you or even scold you but he does lightly bump his fist to your head making you let out a strained laugh.

"Why are you so worried about this? Is Hyunjin a bad guy?"

"No... he's actually a really sweet guy, even for an alpha.."

"Okay, and how is this situation any different then when you were dating someone else?"

You stop for a moment thinking with pursed lips.

"I guess it's... not? I just... you didn't see the look on Minho's face, he looked like I had just murdered his cat."

"That's a bit extreme," Seungmin says with a chuckle as he fixes a strand of hair from your face. "Either way, who you sleep with or don't sleep, whether he knows or doesn't, is your choice and only you for you to judge. If you say he's a good guy, then trust yourself."

He was right. Why should you be so afraid of what Minho thought? As much as you valued his opinion as a friend, it was just as much you're right to sleep with whoever and whenever as you were single, not tied down to anyone. You lay your head on Seungmins shoulder for a moment.

"I should've told you everything yesterday but I knew you were busy with-"

"I am never too busy for you, okay? Call, text, send Jisung to my door with a message from you- actually don't do that I don't want him at my place," Seungmin says as his face scrunches in disgust at Jisung who sits next to you about to protest.

The two banter back and forth for a moment making you laugh, feeling lighter about everything. They keep you company until the others emerge from their dance class.

-

Jeongin yapped Hyunjin's ear off in those 10 minutes they had for a break as Felix shielded his face in hands. He could feel Minhos eyes throwing daggers at Hyunjin's head.

Hyunjin had learned in those 10 minutes that Minho and you had been friends since childhood, with Minho having had a crush on you long before you presented as an omega and him as an alpha. He couldn't help but wonder why the two of you didn't ever get together. As far as he could tell, the two of you seemed a likely match. While he did know Minho well enough to pass judgement, it was clear the Alpha had an affinity for taking care of the people around him, even if it was as simple as helping someone get a dance move down correctly or making sure no one was too worn down.

Even the bite in the way he joked was so similar to you, it was playful and harmless but could be taken very different if aimed at the right person. There was no denying how good looking he was either. From his build and stature despite not being very tall, there was an energy about him that asserted that dominance intentional or not.

Hyunjin had decided it was best to not let Minho on any further information about the nature of your relationship. If Minho wanted to know anything then he would have to ask you.

The class continued on for another hour, if Minho went back to his cool and collect facade for the remainder of class. Felix watched every movement for Minho waiting for the moment he snapped but he never did. Once the class was over, students trickled out slowly until it was just Jeongin, Hyunjin, Minho and Felix.

As much as it hurt Minho to do this, he couldn't deny the talent that Hyunjin had. The two exchanged numbers so they could work on a possible separate choreography to film. Hyunjin kept his cool so long as Minho did. As the four of them began to make their way to the door, Minho's stomach turned at the idea of facing you.

When he saw you sitting on that bench beside Jisung and Seungmin, it seemed to all melt away. You held out an electrolyte bottle to Minho who gleefully took it. Hyunjin trotted behind him with a smile on his face.

"I'd hug you but I'm soaked in sweat," Hyunjin said as he stood in front of you.

"Oh it's fine don't worry about it! So, uh, I'm guessing I don't have to introduce you two to each other?" You ask looking between Minho and Hyunjin.

"We're pretty well acquainted now," Minho says a bit stiff but Hyunjin just laughs. You attempt to change the topic.

"How come you didn't tell me you were a dance major?" You asked nervously looking between Minho and him.

"You never asked," Hyunjin shrugs as he drinks his water, "I'm not a dance major though."

Minho, Felix and Jeongin cock their head in confusion. He laughs at their reactions before speaking again, "I'm an illustratrative art major, painting is more my forte but dancing is my outlet."

Felix chimes in, "Was that tattoo your design then?"

"What tattoo?" You ask confused but Hyunjin just lets out a soft laugh as he nods to answer Felix's question.

Hyunjin puts his bag down to peel his shirt up revealing the rose tattoo the starts between his shoulder blades and trails down further beneath the fabric in vines and thorns. Unconsciously you reach out to touch it which makes Hyunjin shiver and takes everything in Minho to not rip your hand away.

"I didn't see this before," You murmur in awe of the space it takes up on his back.

"Kinda hard to with when you were preoccupied with other things," Hyunjin says with a wolfish grin as he pulls his shirt back on as he watches the flush creep onto your cheeks and watching you awkwardly laugh.

Minho clears his throat grabbing your wrist abruptly, "We should get going, have somewhere to be in a few but we'll see you guys on wednesday."

"Minho, we don't have anything-"

"Yes, we do, remember." He says through clenched teeth before continuing to drag you away from the group.

"Still on for Friday?" Hyunjin's calls out as he watches the Alphas drag you away.

"Yes!" You shout from over your shoulder as Minho throws his arm around your shoulder to keep you from looking back.

Hyunjin watches feeling satisfied by successfully getting under Minho's skin. He bids his goodbye to the others but before he does Felix runs up to him asking to exchange numbers, you know, incase co-captain things come up. Hyunjin is more than happy to exchange numbers with the pretty blonde omega as he bids goodbye for the last time.

-

"This is the urgent business you were talking about?" You ask sarcastically as you sit in the quiet boba shop booth with Minho across from you.

It was your normal hangout spot but it was also ritual for the two of you to come here every 1st day back of the new semester. It was a cat themed boba shop and it was truthfully one of Minho's favorite places to be, especially with you.

"Yes, they close at 8pm, I didn't want us to miss our chance... how were your classes today?" He asks looking up at you attempting to change the topic from his insistent ways of getting you as far away from Hyunjin as possible.

"Good, my professors are pretty nice. I'm writing my first novel this semester too."

"Will you read it to me when you're ready?" He asks.

"Of course, who else will I read it to?" He internally responds with a scowl at the thoughts of you reading it to Hyunjin.

The two of sit in a comfortable silence listening to the sounds of the people chattering around you.

"What are you doing with Hyunjin on Friday?" Minho is the first to speak up. Likely plotting how to disrupt those plans.

"Not too sure yet... How did you like him?" diverting the question back to Minho.

"Seems nice." He says shortly, unable to meet your gaze. He wouldn't admit that despite his flirty advances towards you, he liked him enough to consider him someone worth getting to know. You hum in acknowledgment. "The lunch you made me was good, thank you."

"You're welcome, nothing compares to your cooking but I try," You say as you stretch up in your seat feeling the exhaustion of the day wearing on you. Minho takes the signal and grabs both your belongings ready to head out.

The warm feeling that spread through your chest as you can't help feeling thankful how easy Minho picks up on your body language, almost better than you can. The drive to your apartment is quiet as the two of you talk about the coming day of other classes tomorrow.

"Oh that reminds me, Saturday night, are you free?" You perk up in your seat.

"I should be, something you want to do?"

"I promised Seungmin that we'd go to his nerdy film marathon, please come with me?" You ask jutting out your bottom lip, while giving him your best puppy eyes.

"Mmmmm what's in it for me?" Minho would say yes regardless but he wanted to see what you would say.

"I'll make your favorite cookies but... i'll make them into little cats." You say with a straight face.

"Deal." He mimics your face until he sees that smile on your face making his heart do a flip.

"Perfect, I'll see you tomorrow," You say quickly climb out of his car before he got a chance to say anything else.

He watches as walk off into your building waving back at him, meeting Hyunjin was like setting a fire under him. He was more determined than ever to get you to see him as someone who could be there for, love you, to be your mate. He would stop at nothing now to be the one that puts that smile on your face.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Now don't throw tomatoes at me but I'm actually really excited to finally see malleus again— I've always loved malleus since we met him in the story, but I'm also sooo curious about what's gonna happen next,, I'm wondering the obvious thing, about whether or not we might get a parralel scenario like what happened with the KoD and silver will have to "slay" malleus or at least be the one to land a killing blow, but I also saw a really interesting post focusing on how magic is a manifestation of dreams and deep desires and imagination,,,, in that case, I may (VERY delusionally) hope that Yuu finally gets to be a major part of the story for once??? Even reading the novels, there HAS to be something bigger for yuu— while the idea of crowley simply being an incompetent airhead is fun and more comfortable, haven't you thought that meybe he pulled them into this world deliberately??

All to say, what if at some point, Yuu somehow manifests magic in a very dire moment ?? You know lol?? Agh idk. I just want yuu to finally make impactful choices but that IS too much to ask, as far as we can see for now,,, (but hey, that part leading up to ace getting is UM, and the convo between him and yuu,,, it *does* give one a sliver of hope, doesn't it? :') )

Don't worry, no tomato throwing here! 😅 I may not care for certain characters, but I’m not going to shame anyone that does. You’re free to think however you want about Malleus!

dbjsvsJcwhj My personal feelings about him aside, I am actually glad he’s finally relevant to the main story again. He’s missed out on so much of his own book OTL In the time he’s been gone, the fandom has been left to speculate about both his and Lilia’s potential death flags. I really doubt Twst will have the balls to kill off one of them, but it would be cool to at least see Silver delivering the final blow to knock some sense into (not necessarily kill) OB Malleus.

Yes, it’s true that Silver states in the recent update that magic was originally considered “a miracle borne of strong desires from the heart.” But 💦 I don’t think that means Yuu would randomly manifest magic in the final fight?? It feels more like a “let’s save the day with the power of friendship” to me, but I could of course be wrong.

I understand being frustrated that Yuu’s participation in the main story seems to fluctuate a lot, with most of their activity being books 3, 4, and segments of 1, 6, and 7. That’s not much, especially considering how long books 6 and 7 are. Sometimes (even in events) it feels like Yuu is barely there, as most dialogue options don’t involve different reactions from the characters. Even Yuu's quest to find a way home is barely addressed or taken seriously until early in book 7. Yuu hasn't gotten "real" development unless you count them realizing their Disney dreams are prophetic in book 5, taking the initiative to save Grim in book 6, and that dialogue option about them being worried they're not contributing + the related convo with Ace in book 7. All very short moments in the grand scheme of things. And honestly, I think that makes sense for the kind of character Yuu is. A blank slate, a self-insert, an outsider that's easy to exposit information to, someone with which to view the story, characters, and world through. Yuu is primarily there to be the POV character, the lenses, the camera that we see Twst through. They're not really meant to be a traditional "main character". It's possible that Twst gives them a slightly bigger role at the very end (especially with what went down in the dream in book 7), but I doubt it will be a huge triumphant moment where they and they alone save the day or deal the final blow in a crazy act of self-sacrifice. Twst has always been a story that puts the NRC boys first, while Yuu is the observer.

I've noticed that the complaint of Yuu not doing a lot in the story comes mainly from English speaking fans?? And I guess that makes sense, given how western culture tends to emphasize independence and standing out. They want Yuu to reflect that. They want to be the ones to make a difference. I don't even remember ever seeing these same comments from the Japanese speaking fans; it's definitely a less common sentiment for them. The Japanese fans seem pretty content with Yuu being an observer and taking on more of a minor or supporting role. Again, this fits in with what I understand of many eastern cultures. They're demurer, not wanting to stand out too much from the crowd and instead prioritizing group harmony. Very interesting cultural difference to note!

It's a common theory (with many variants) that Crowley intentionally summoned Yuu to Twisted Wonderland for his own nefarious motives. People found him pretty sus right away due to how he seems to not put in any real time or effort into investigating a way to send Yuu home. Plus, there's that ominous opening monologue of his to consider. However, I don't think he summoned Yuu because of their (potential) great magical capabilities. The Mirror of Darkness tells us that it doesn't sense a shred of magic in Yuu, and Leona smells zero magic on them (though that could be because it hasn't technically manifested yet, as some fans claim).

The idea is that Yuu is supposed to be plain. They are supposed to be magicless. Why? To humble the NRC students and to show them that asserting yourself violently or with great magical power ISN'T the way to go. To show them value in strategizing (which Yuu does in the prologue by helping Grim aim at the ghosts), of camaraderie. What does it say about the story's themes if Yuu, the person who is supposed to be showing them the worth of mundane things, is suddenly... "secretly ultra-strong, actually/“just like you guys” (even if it's only a temporary hope-fueled magic)? It might contradict what has already been set up. It also breaks the self-insert appeal of Yuu, since developing magic would also mean Yuu would later have to further develop things like proficiency in magic, best/worst subjects, and an unique magic/signature spell... meaning Yuu HAS to become better "defined", thus losing their blank slate nature. This would surely upset some fans who deeply project onto Yuu, have a Yuusona, etc.

Yuu can still make an impact on the characters and the world--and they have, judging by how much closer the boys are with each other--without having to be The Most Special One or like everyone else. I think it undermines what Yuu has already managed to achieve to say that they haven't made an impactful choice at ANY point in the main story when I believe they definitely have. Yuu made the choice to sign the contract with Azul. Yuu made the choice to approach Malleus. Yuu made the choice to go against Crowley's orders and go retrieve Grim from S.T.Y.X. Yuu made the choice to get Leona’s help with the contracts. Yuu made the choice to stand with Adeuce against Riddle in book 1. Yuu made the choice to let the VDC/SDC tribe train at Ramshackle. Yuu has done a lot, and all without needing to seize the spotlight or to do anything big and flashy. I don't think Yuu needs to be big and flashy. There is pride to be had in simplicity and being humble too. There is pride in representing the 90% of humans in Twisted Wonderland that are ordinary and without magic.

(An aside: so if Yuu wasn’t able to manifest magic in many other extreme instances, does that mean their desire to save Grim in book 6 wasn’t “enough”? That their desire to save Ramshackle, their one and only home in this world, wasn’t “enough”? It implies that Yuu didn’t wish hard enough for these other things they clearly care about and want.)

I think a good way to give Yuu a decent role while staying true to their design as a blank slate would be for Twst to really lean into the whole "beast tamer" aspect that was introduced all the way back in the prologue. This would work well with their deep connection to Grim as well. Assuming that Grim ends up being the final OB... We could easily have the NRC students and staff on the ropes, Malleus at his wit's end after exhausting himself with his own OB, a rampaging Grim about to end it all. And then... one lone figure shakily rises from the rubble and confronts Grim. One human. Magicless, defenseless. A human lost in an unfamiliar world, a human who believes they're useless and don't contribute much. A human who is always in need of being protected by others. But not anymore. This time, it's Yuu's turn to protect what they love--their friends, this world they've come to love, Grim. Ace and Deuce yelling at Yuu to not be stupid, to get back--but Yuu just advances, calling out to Grim and begging him to stop. And maybe it's Yuu's wish that rallies everyone and/or gets OB Grim to hesitate. That's when they can strike. Is that corny? Yeah. Does it sound like the ending to a Disney film? Sure. But it still grants Yuu, a magicless human that is supposed to be there to teach everyone about friendship, cooperation, and humility, their big moment to shine. The best of both worlds, I'd say.

[kashimos-hajime]

—a man | s.r.

summary: "what we need, sweetheart, is a man."

pairing: suna rintarou x reader

a/n: for context, inarizaki is being placed in nishinomiya for the sake of this fic | part of the undateable series

masterlist

The lunch bell shrieks and the students all around give a grumble as they pour back into the class room. You’re in the midst of putting your lunch box away, but the question Mina, your near and dear friend, poses you has your face akin to a woman who’s got sliced lemons wedged into her cheeks. “No, no, I’m fine not dating anyone right now. Akio just dumped me—” you count on your fingers— “two, or, three? Weeks ago.”

“Ugh, but that was nothing. You don’t even care, so why not come with me?” she pleads, clasping her hands and leaning on your desk. “I promise, it’s not going to be bad. Just one date. A double date. That handsome boy from Kujirami we saw from the spring party asked me out to see a movie in Kobe, and it’ll be so lame if I have to go by myself. I’m sure he has a cute friend!”

“I guess?” Your voice, tinged with doubt, twangs when you wince and you search for an excuse, glancing around the room as casually as you can. The teacher's behind his desk, re-organizing his papers, and you agonize over the minutes he takes. Couldn’t he cut class conversation short, for once? “But I don’t want to transit to Kobe from Awaji on the weekend. It’s so much time, and I have to work. Maybe if it were afterschool?”

“Would Friday work?”

You try not to curse to Mina’s face. “Maybe… but it’s the end of the school week. I’d, y’know, wanna go home. And Thursday is like... we have homework. And stuff.” At your friend’s crestfallen expression, you quickly add, “I wouldn’t want to third-wheel your date anyway. If I’m there, and his friend’s there, we might end up talking to each other rather than our dates.” 

A pout flashes across her face. “If they can't keep us interested, then they’re not good enough for us. Didn't you say on your first date with Inoue-san, he didn't say a single word? And we know how that turned out."

“Well, don’t take a page out of my book. Every time I give a guy a chance, they’re just not…" You don't exactly want to linger on all your failures at the moment. "Well, just give him a chance, and don't look for the bad stuff. You know, sometimes first dates, the nerves get in the way.”

“Is that what you tell yourself, too? 'Cause if you have no luck, I can't imagine what I've got going for me. Ugh, I'm so sick of boys!" Mina shoots to her feet with a new, ferocious light in her stare as she flexes her arm, patting the bicep with a sharp smile. “What we need, sweetheart, is a man.”

“A man,” you snort, laughing. “As if those exist.”

“You never know.” The chair squeaks as Mina finds her seat again. Twisting around, she sends you a wink. “Think about it, won’t you?”

“I will,” you agree. Reaching down into your bag, you feel a shadow fall across your figure, and you crane your head up at the boy standing before you. Suna Rintarou is staring down at you as if you’re the one in his way, but you can't possibly be so, and he's most definitely in the wrong section of the classroom.

“Hey.” 

You only straighten up, withdrawing your English notebook and dusting off your desk quickly. “Hi.” Picking out your favourite pencil, you adjust the layout of your desk, and take a quick sip of water before realizing Suna’s still standing there, tapping on his phone, and you look at him again. “Can I help you?”

He withdraws something from his pocket—a cleanly folded piece of paper—but doesn’t even meet your gaze. A flicker of irritation licks at your stomach. “Osamu wanted to give this to you.”

“What is it?”

“From our volleyball meeting.”

“What’s that got to do with me?”

“He volunteered you to fill our manager spot since Shiri-san won’t be coming back this year. It’s the form.” 

Taking it, you open your mouth to ask another question but he’s already walking to the back of the class, and you frown, eyes trailing after the boy who sits down and pulls out his phone, already slouched over and half-hidden by the person sitting in front of him. Ridiculous.

With a huff, you face forward again. The paper crinkles as you see your name already written at the top in Osamu’s slanted writing, but the teacher is calling for the class’s attention (of course, now is when he decides that his paper stacks are straight enough), and the idea is pushed to the back of your head with a firm, resounding answer.

No way.

[sheaabuttaababyy]

Mood swings - RR

Pairing: Roman x Kimora

Short Fluff

The sounds of buzzing filled the room as Joe sat in a chair at the barber shop. His barber Larry was cutting his his hair as he received a message from his wife.

Wifey💍💗: Babe when you coming home? You’ve been gone for so long.

Joe bear ❤️🐻: sweetheart It hasn’t even been an hour😂

Wifey💍💗: I don’t care you’ve been gone too long. I miss you.

He sighed going to her contact. "Hey man. Do you mind if I call my wife? I just need to checkup on her"

"Nah go ahead man, it’s no problem" Larry waved off before continuing to trim Joes hair.

FaceTiming her it rung twice, before seeing her gorgeous face pop up.

"Hey baby. You okay?" He asked seeing a slight frown on her face.

"No. I miss you can you come home please"

"Ki I’ve only been gone 35 minutes" he laughed, But Kimora didn’t find shit funny. She just wanted him home.

"I knoww but I just want you to hold me and rub my stomach"

He heard her voice crack making his heart ache. "Okay baby I’ll be home in 25 minutes. Okay?"

"You promise?"

"Yes, I promise. I love you I’ll see you soon"

"Love you too. 25 minutes Joe." She pointed her finger at him through the screen before hanging up.

Larry let out a whistle making Joe look at him. "Damn bro. She has you wrapped around her finger."

Joe smiled at his words nodding his head. "She really does, and I’m not even mad about it."

At home Kimora laid in her and Joe’s bed naked, Watching The game. A bowl of cut up pickles and hot sauce sitting on her 8 and half month belly.

"Derwin foul as fuck for that" she spoke to herself seeing Derwin cheating on Melanie.

She heard the bedroom door open, seeing Joe walk in looking fine as fuck in his black hoodie and matching shorts, with a bag in his hand.

"Hey baby" Placing the bag down by the bed he took off his hoodie, and shirt leaving him shirtless.

Lifting the covers up he got into the bed. Once he got comfortable he tried to pull Kimora into him but she pushed his hands away. Leaving him confused.

Scooting up to her side he tried placing a kiss on her cheek but she swerved it. Leaning back he sighed burning a hole into the side of her head. Kimora just staring at the TV.

"What did I do now?"Joe was used to this already. He had to deal with it everyday, since she got pregnant.

"You said 25 minutes…it’s been 40" ki crossed her arms finally turning her head to look at her husband, who was smiling.

"That’s why your mad? Kimora if you don’t scoot your ass over here and cuddle with me."

"No you lied. I don’t want wanna lay up with a liar." She crossed her arms scooting away from him.

Joe laughed at her dramatics "Alright. I guess I’ll just go to the living room and watch Tv by myself"

Kimora’s head whipped to him real quick at his words. Yeah she was annoyed yeah, and being overly dramatic. But she didn’t want him to go.

he got out the bed, grabbing the plastic bag that had all of Kimora’s favourite snacks. Also the reason why he took longer than 25 minutes.

"Here" he placed the bag on the bed giving her forehead and swollen stomach a kiss.

Taking a peek Ki saw all of her favourite foods. She started to feel guilty for being rude, as she realized that’s the reason why he took so long.

Grabbing his iPad and glasses, Joe left the room. Leaving Kimora in her thoughts.

Tears built up in her eyes as she grabbed the chips from the bag. Sniffling she opened it before stuffing her mouth with Doritos.

She ate some more silently as tears ran down her face. Licking her fingers clean she got up slowly going to washroom, washing her hands.

Grabbing her brown silk robe she put it on making her way to the living room where Joe was.

Going into the living room she saw him watching a YouTube video on his iPad with his glasses on.

Standing at the end of the couch she watched him, feeling sad again. How could she be so rude to him? He was just a giant, tatted, loving teddy bear.

Looking up from the screen he sent her a smile. Seeing the pout on her face he turned off the device, placing it beside him. Opening up his arms he gestured his wife over to him.

She went over to him laying sideways in his lap. She took a deep breath before bursting out crying. Making Joe rock her back and forth.

"I’m sorry I was so mean to you. You’ve been such a good husband. And all I do is have an attitude."

Joe let out a laugh as she spoke. "Baby. Baby it’s okay" he rubbed his hand up and down her back as little sniffles left her body.

"It’s not okay. Your so good to me and you have to deal with me. I’m sorry if I’m too much for you"

"Let me stop you right there. Your not too much for me to handle. Your carrying our child Kimora. That’s a beautiful thing and I’ve been through every moment of it. Your my wife, and I love you and I’ll continue to be here and take every step of the way with you. We’re in this together."

"Awhh Joe" she leaned in kissing his lips softly which he happily returned. "I love you so much" she spoke against his lips.

They both pulled away smiling as Joe placed one last peck on her lips. "You wanna go back in bed and cuddle?"

"Yes please I wanna be in your skin" getting off Joe’s lap with his help. Slowly she waddled to the stairs with her hand on her belly. Joe following her watching her in awe.

The two were in bed Joe in his boxers as Kimora was fully nude. Since she got pregnant, wearing clothes really irritated for some reason. So when she was at home. In her safe place she would always sleep and walk around naked.

Her right leg was across his torso, her head resting on his chest

"What about Alex?" Joe questioned as he kneaded Kimora’s ass with his right hand as his left was caressing her stomach. They were currently talking about baby names.

"Alex is so basic. No."

"Jaxon?"

"Mmm…no" Damn she’s picky Joe thought.

"What about…Josiah?"

"Josiah…Josiah" Kimora tested the name on her tongue, before a smile broke on her face. "I love it."

"Yeah?" Joe leaned down kissing her forehead. "Yeah. I think that should be baby boys name"

Joe felt a movement on his hand. Looking down at his wife’s stomach he saw an outline of little foot, pressed up her stomach.

He saw the little feet kick again. Feeling their baby kick the area of Joe’s hand that was resting on Kimora’s belly.

"Oh wow. I think he really liked that name." Joe had a goofy smile on his as he scooted down so his head was leaning against Ki’s swollen belly.

He started talking to their baby through her stomach. "Im gonna love and protect you, I can’t wait for you to meet mommy and daddy" Joe spoke kissing and caressing her tummy.

A big smile was on Kimora’s face listening to her husband continue to talk to their child, her heart feeling warm and full.

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[hiraethwa]

one summer day

19 promise. where a new promise is forged in place of broken ones.

<< 18 hiraeth. | >> 20 (coming soon)

pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x reader word count: 3.1k warnings: angst, what's new :)

there is an indescribable feeling welling within your chest, a sensation that prickles at the edges of your frozen heart, as if it had weathered a long winter, as if spring has finally arrived, the sun smiling warmly upon you and welcoming you into its comforting embrace.

a mixture of nostalgia, melancholy and regret that seems to have seeped into your bones, unable to shake it off. 

semi and his now fiancée are making their way through the crowd of friends and family who have gathered tonight to celebrate their engagement, and you feel immensely… happy for them. 

they are good for each other, anyone who sees them knows it, with the way they complement each other’s strengths and weaknesses, facing the world together fearlessly with the other by their side. 

though, the thought of that makes your eyes wander the crowd, searching for the warm chocolate eyes you still think of as home. 

this might have been you—if you were not so quick to jump to conclusions, if he had trusted in you. maybe, maybe it would have broken you in the end, like he guessed. maybe he was right not to trust in you.

but the past remains there, in the past, and even now, you are not sure what would have been the right thing to do. it’s easy to recognize rights and wrongs in hindsight, but there was never a clear way forward, never a right way forward for a present that was not so broken and mended at the same time. 

off balance. 

like a violin that was tuned to an old orchestra’s lower frequency trying to fit in with the new one. even a single hertz of frequency makes all the difference, singling you out from the others because you are out of tune. 

the more you get along with ushijima, the more this… feeling grows in your chest, this unshakeable nostalgia to return to what once was, to stay there and never grow up. 

you had forgiven him, and he had forgiven you, both of you having made mistakes that led to where things are now. semi and tendo were the more excitable pair between you about this development, as though they are dead set on the two of you getting together. 

but it is all too late, too much history, too much hurt between you to go back to what once was. 

you could never go back. 

the understanding should not pain you as much as it does now, as if a claw is gouged into your chest and dragged down and down.

it should not hurt so much when he smiles at you across the room, and you feel the warmth radiating from him even with the distance, reading the touch of melancholy from the way he carries himself, the lines in his face, the eyes that you fell in love with. 

enough time has passed for you to move on, so why does he still make your heart race like a teenage girl? how can you still be in love with him when neither of you are the same people you used to be?

he is not the same boy you loved in high school. still quiet and stern, sure, but he is also more open with those close to him, like tendo and semi. more relaxed and more communicative with the people he cared about, more willing to share about himself than he used to. 

as if he had taken his mistakes with you as a lesson to learn from. 

you don’t know how to feel about that realization. 

on the other hand, you are not sure if you have grown as a person as much as he has. you were still quick tempered, jumping to conclusions like your life depended on it.

and if you were being frank, you could be blamed for most of this mess, from being stubborn enough to cut him off for years. 

and still he waited. 

“hey,” he sidles up to your side, cocking his head as you turn away from him, blinking rapidly, wishing the sudden welled up tears away, scratching your eyebrow and swiping at your eyes discreetly, you hope. 

“hey yourself.” you smile back at him, hoping he does not see through your shit act immediately. you know he does though, because your cheeks are hot and red from the sudden rush of regret. 

“it feels unreal that semi is engaged, doesn’t it? he always seemed like he would be the last one to settle down among us.” he remarks.

and we thought we would have been among the first. how the tables have turned.

you chuckle in response, focusing on anything but the heat radiating from his arm to yours as you stand side by side against the far wall away from most guests. like two wallflowers avoiding the party.

you guess some things never change. 

“i think the universe had a different plan in mind for all of us.” one we never saw coming.

”perhaps. but we are the ones who dictate our future, aren’t we?” his eyes are on you keenly, and you choose to ignore it. 

“maybe some things are written in the stars, long before you and i were brought into it.” it is no longer about semi, but about you, about this half wilted, half revived twisted thing between you. 

”we have a say in it, in our choices. you don’t think so?” you think you hear a hint of desperation in his voice, for you to give in—say it’s not too late, you could go back to what you were before. but it’s too fucking late. 

you thought he knew this, so why is he being insistent, even all this time?  

all this time you had been gifted with, a mere three weeks in your homeland, busy with the orchestral competition and then the showcase performances afterwards, squeezing in what time you could with your friends, including him. 

every conversation you shared with him after that first one in years had been friendly, inquiring, mindful. the mutual understanding you thought you also shared showing in his eyes, tinged with sadness and regret, reflected in yours.

”you know we can’t go back, toshi.” you curl your free hand into a fist to hide the trembling in your fingers. 

“then look forward to the future. if it hurts, don’t look back, let it stay where it belongs.” he circles your wrist, gently and firmly, stilling your shaking. he knew, he always knows.

he knows you too well, that you are choosing to stay in the known where it is safe, afraid to risk your heart, to trust once more. he is right, you would rather it stay broken than be disappointed again. 

if you dared, you could tune your violin to the higher frequency, risk the worn strings snapping as you turn the peg tighter. you could always just replace it with a new string.

though unlike violin strings, you only have one heart, worn and tired. you are not sure how much more it could take before the point of no return, and there is no replacing it. 

but it does not have any sense of self preservation when it comes to wakatoshi, yearning for you to say yes, yearning to be home again. you don’t blame it, your rationality seems to go out the window on matters concerning him. 

“why? why did you wait? i left you high and dry for years, and then i come back with little to no warning, and you are being nice to me.” you face him, wringing your hands, breathing heavily, stuck with the countless thoughts flying through your head, each and every last of them devastating. “why?”

“because you are the only one for me. you always have been.” he tugs your hands apart, holding each hand gently, rubbing circles on the back of your palms. 

“i am nothing short of irrational and horrible.” you whisper, feeling particularly awful about your past decisions, your stubbornness that stopped you from hearing him or even semi out.

“sure, but i fucked up first.” gods, why is he so good? it would be so much easier if he isn’t. “you are blaming yourself for something i had a part in. that’s not quite fair, is it?”

he tugs at your fingers for you to look at him again. “i tried to respect your wishes, really. i thought maybe you don’t feel the same way anymore, and the first few times i saw the look in your eyes, i thought i was going mad from desperation, that i was imagining it.” wakatoshi tightens his hold on you ever so slightly at his memory, but continues, “you still have that look in your eyes, the same one i do when i look at you, and it didn’t make sense to me why this should be our ending.”

“there’s too much between us, toshi.” the sounds fall from your mouth like a plea for him to let go, to move on, to stop looking back. 

“two people who still love each other belong together, don’t they?” his words make you curl your fingers around his thick digits, a sharp feeling brewing in your belly. 

anger, you recognize. it is anger that strikes you, taking hold of you as your lips curl and you scowl at the man before you. “you are being unreasonable. how could you just pretend like everything never happened? that it did not hurt for months, years? and to make things worse, i went years not speaking to you out of sheer hurt and stubbornness, only to find out that i was wrong. i should have given you a chance to explain– hear your side of the story out, something.” 

you lick your lips, trying to gather your thoughts, communicate them coherently. “but i didn’t. and you’re acting like it didn’t hurt you. like i didn’t hurt you. for years. you say you feel the same, and yet you look unfazed by my actions that should have carved your heart out of your chest. you are acting like my mistakes are so easily forgiven, like it was nothing, but you are pretending. i know it hurts.”

your neatly trimmed nails are pressing crescents into his palm even as your shoulders shake, feeling the absolute guilt heavy and crushing. because you don’t deserve him. he should be glad that he is free of you, not trying to get you to change your mind. 

“that day i saw you at the apartment. you were speaking to me as if nothing happened, trying to talk to me the way you used to. but you should have yelled at me for being stupid. threw me out on the streets. slammed the door in my face and never looked back. you should never have let me back into your life. i fucked everything up so badly and you are standing here trying to convince me to give us a second chance. do you hear yourself? are you insane?”

this is pathetic, you think. you are shaking, salty tears flowing freely down your cheeks, and sometime during your little confession of truth he had guided you to an empty corner of the room for more privacy. or to keep people from seeing you fall apart. 

but he is gaping at you, as if you just told him something he didn’t know, and you look away, ashamed of yourself. 

“no, no, look at me,” his fingers chase after your turned face, fitting in the curve of your jawbone as he firmly tilts your head to look at him. try to resist as you may, you end up giving in to him, as you always does. “that is what you are torn apart over? that you might have hurt me with your actions? not that i kept my arranged marriage a secret from you?”

his eyebrows are furrowed in confusion, leaving you frustrated “but i did hurt you from my actions, didn’t i? unless you don’t love me. which i am assuming is not the case since you are trying to convince me to give us a chance. of course i was hurt you kept that a secret from me. what was i supposed to think when i heard about it from your mother and not you? but it pales in comparison to my– how unreasonable i was, dragging this easily solved issue over years. how could you say that?”

“and your reaction was perfectly reasonable, why can’t you see that?” 

“why can’t you let me go?” 

wakatoshi almost drops his hand from your words, feeling them pierce the thick layers he kept over his own heart to shield its injuries from the world. he feels the nonchalant charade he kept up crack and slip, no longer able to ignore the hurt that coursing through his veins.

“because now you’re being stupid. are you actually saying that you won’t give us a chance because you hurt me after being hurt by me and you think that the hurt you caused me is worse than the hurt i caused you? why do you feel the need to atone for your mistakes by denying yourself a shot at happiness?”

“because you have not given yourself a chance to live in a world without me.” gods— 

“i don’t follow.” he says flatly, hands dropping to his sides, visibly deflated at your repeated attempts to move on. 

“you still live in our apartment. you never let me go, never allowed yourself to experience a world without me in it,” you swallow, though the lump in your throat remains at the thought of what you are about to do—what you are about to ask of him. you so desperately want to keep silent, want to jump into his arms, but you would also never forgive yourself if you kept him from a better life. “i want you to go and live in that world, let yourself experience the happiness and joy i once brought you with someone else. someone with whom you don’t share a tainted past with. i want you to give this chance to someone else.”

“what about what i want? have you thought about that? of the possibility that i only want you, not anyone else, even if they are perfect.”

“how do you know that? you haven’t given anyone else a chance!” you surmised as much from your observations, a conclusion that you arrived at after learning that he is still living at your shared apartment, which tendo confirmed.

“because i don’t need to! gods, you are killing me.” he exclaims as loud as he could without drawing anyone’s attention, staring at you intensely. 

“i know.”

he lets out a heavy exhale, rubbing his hand over his face. “so what then?”

“go live a life without me. date someone. move out of that apartment, for the love of god.” fall in love with someone good for you, like semi did. not me. 

“and then what?” he quirks an eyebrow at you. 

“and then what?” you repeat his words back to him in disbelief. 

“what if i still want us?” his stare pierces through your defense, forcing you to take a step back before you could pull him in. 

a brittle, fragile bridge of trust stretches between you, and you are sure that it is bound to break if either of you were to take a step towards the other. 

“you haven’t even given it a shot yet.” you retort, hands crossed over your chest. this stubborn man…

“i already know so.” he states firmly, leaving no room for argument. it makes you want to strangle him and kiss him at the same time, if it were not for the plethora of reasons that would cause it all to fall apart stopping you from doing so. 

“you are so fucking stubborn.” you grit your teeth. a pair of waving arms catches your attention, as the man himself makes his way to the two of you. you roll your eyes at the glint of interest appearing in his mischievous eyes. 

“i could say the same about you.” he replies. 

you look away, pointedly avoiding his gaze as your red-haired friend approaches. tendo would never let you live it down if he hears about this conversation. 

“i suppose so.” you murmur before tendo pulls you towards the circle of people forming around the newly engaged couple who are starting their toast, leaving wakatoshi to follow. 

their beautiful story brings a fresh wave of tears to your eyes. your lower lip is wobbling as you dab at the corner of your eyes with a napkin that tendo offered. 

pure bliss radiates from the pair as they glance at each other lovingly, so much so that one could mistake them as newlyweds. it makes you falter in your decision, just enough that you allow yourself to think of a future where everything goes right. 

enough that you slip out from the party as wakatoshi excuses himself for an early night. 

enough that you call out after the man you who is both a stranger and your home. 

“wakatoshi!” his name leaves your lips, carrying on a life of its own. it reminds you of the boy who took flight in the gymnasium one summer day. .

“vienna.” you repress the smile that threatens to break at the sight of surprise in his warm honeyed eyes, his half-turned body with his hand still on the door. “i will meet you in vienna in a year. i–if you still feel the same way. if i could leave the past behind us.”

“just tell me where and when.” there is a tremble in his voice laced with disbelief. 

“that’s up to you to figure out.” find me, you seem to say, like this is a test of his belief and knowledge in you, and of fate. 

“see you in a year then.” a muscle in his jaw twitches as his lips part, but he presses them shut with visible turmoil shortly after, as though he had more to say but decided against it. 

you swallow with your fist grabbing onto the fabric of your shirt above where your heart lays, wishing it to calm, begging for hope to delay its flight. 

there are many things that could go awry in this plan that hinges on him getting the time and place right, including the fact that it requires you to trust him again. because trust is the foundation of any relationship—without trust, there is nothing. 

not to mention, it also depends on him not changing his mind. 

it is tricky because he might just meet someone who changes his mind in between now and the next year. tricky because you might not be able to trust him again for the decision is the hardest first step. tricky because—

“time changes all.”

no one is impervious to the passage of time, not you, not even ushijima wakatoshi. 

so why is hope still beating its wings with all its might in the confines of your ribcage?

a/n: i had a hard time figuring out how to phrase the promise, but had a breakthrough today and could not wait to post <333 enjoy y'all, lightly edited! only one more chapter to go, i am gonna cry thinking about osd ending :') (also spy the title reference in the chapter :3 i love y'all thank you for being on this wild ride with me tags: @lemurzsquad @daisy-room @integers @brokenbraveakira @whosmarjj @nansfyy @illuzminate @httpshoyo @manyuyuu @hatsukeii @bakery-anon @wrimaira

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