#I'm funny and quick on my feet and helpful

[ponderingmoonlight]

Reader falling obsessively in love with kny men after getting poisoned

Pairings: Rengoku x fem!reader; Sanemi x fem!reader; Giyu x fem!reader; bonus Genya x fem!reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: There's no smut going on but it's definitely a close call lol, I just thought this concept is funny so the fics itself and the whole scenarios aren't 100% serious it's getting absolutely heated in every single one though hehe, Not proofread bc I literally finished this last minute before my flight lol, I'm currently in Greece when this gets published so surprise ya girl with your support until she's back 🤍

Rengoku Kyojuro

“And you’re sure this is safe?”, you question while looking up at Shinobu with frightful eyes.

It should be fine. After all, Shinobu is the one who invented a medicine that is supposed to finally force your headache away. She’s a professional, so well-educated that even Kagaya-sama’s very own children get treated by her.

Even though she didn’t have the chance to test this medicine, you should be fine.

Right?

“As you know, I’ll never promise something I can’t keep, (y/n). But you’re here with me and if something goes wrong, I will find a way”, she tries to reassure you, only to spike your panic up even higher.

“Listen Shinobu, maybe I’ll try something e-“

Before you’re able to finish your sentence and stop her, you feel a needle poking through your arm oh so gently.

For a moment, you simply sit there and blink in confusion. Huh, not as bad as you thought. It really seems like your headache slowly but surely starts fainting away while the medicine burns every so slightly through your veins.

Not bad at all.

Until your heartbeat picks up so suddenly that your eyes dart wide open. Like in trance, you yank out of the chair you were sitting in, orbs darting around without a real aim while frantically searching for something.

Or rather someone.

What a quiet and peaceful day it is to roam around the beautiful butterfly estate. Rengoku actually didn’t even plan to come here. After all, he isn’t injured nor does he need something from Shinobu-san. To be honest, he’s only here because of you.

You told him yesterday that you’ll see Shinobu today in order to test medicine that is supposed to end your ongoing headaches. You were a little frightened when you thought about getting an injection, so it was never a question for Rengoku to be there for you. Hopefully, he made it on time.

“Kyojuro.”

He furrows his eyebrows and turns towards that unusual seductive voice.

When your eyes meet his, he forgets how to breathe. There you stand, your kimono opened just enough for him to catch a glimpse of your chest like never before. But what simply sweeps him off his feet are your eyes. As gorgeous and captivating as ever, but this time igniting an so unknown spark, inviting him to a silent dance.

“(y/n), are you feeling alright?”

Your hips swing from side to side as you draw closer to him and place your hand straight over his beating heart.

“I’m feeling better than ever before, Kyojuro.”

Kyojuro can’t help but blush deeply, eyes widening in surprise. A nervous smile plays on his lips while he stammers slightly, unable to hide his flustered state. Is this really you, the secret love of his life, discovering his body with your bare hands? The second your flat palms start wandering over his back, his hands start to fidget. Out of instinct, he avoids eye contact, his very own hands now keeping you in place.

“W-What’s going on. (y/n)?”, he stammers like he never did before.

“Take me, Kyojuro.”

His eyes grow even wider, usual confidence momentarily faltering like a house of cards.

“I-I…um, what?”

With a force he didn’t even know you have, you shove him against a nearby tree, your knee gliding between his legs.

“I want you since the first time I saw you. I won’t wait for another opportunity when you���re right here.”

“(y/n)…D-did you already meet Shinobu-san?”

Are you sick or injured? A quick scan of your body reveals nothing that could indicate a serious wound. No, to be precise, you reveal nothing but your soft curves, your gorgeous frame he has never seen like this before. With your kimono slightly opened and the cleavage that peaks at him oh so invitingly…He never felt your hands pressed against his chest like that before, never got a taste of how well you fit inside of his arms.

No. He shakes his head ever so slightly, forces his own mind back to reality. This isn’t the (y/n) he knows. You’d never sneak up on him like this, even if the words you just spoke are true.

Oh, please let them be true.

“All I care about is you”, you purr, face now only inches away from his.

If his back wasn’t pressed against a tree already, Kyojuro would lose his balance for sure. He was always captivated by that gorgeous colour your eyes have, never able to look away. But now, with that dark gleam inside of them, your hands wrapped around his neck. A little innocent kiss, a dream that comes true right here and now-

“(y/n), come back right now!”, a voice cries behind him so suddenly that he jumps up inside the cage of your comforting arms.

“We are here, Shinobu-san!”, he replies automatically.

Only to regret his words instantly. Just one second more and his lips would have touched yours, only a few moments more in your embrace before it all ends again. It takes him all his strength to let go of you when Shinobu arrives with an injection ready in her hand.

“I’m beyond sorry, Rengoku-san! (y/n)’s strange behaviour is all my fault. But don’t worry, I’ll bring her back in just a moment.”

Faster than he’s even able to comprehend the insect pillar’s words, she sticks a needle into your arm and releases the injection.

You blink a few times, head spinning uncontrollably as you stumble backwards. Where are you? What happened? Your head pounds so roughly against your skull that you feel like puking any given minute.

“How are you feeling, (y/n)?”, Shinobu’s comforting voice rings in your ears.

Slowly but surely, your foggy vision starts to get clear again.

“Since when are you so tall, Shinobu?”, you mumble absently.

“It’s me, (y/n). Kyojuro.”

Oh.

“Kyojuro!”, you mumble in utter surprise.

“But…what are you doing here?”

“Let’s not talk about it. I-I…I need to go now”, the flame hashira announces before turning on his heels and walking away.

You stare at his back in nothing but confusion. What is wrong with him? Is he not feeling well, maybe?

“Is it just me or does Kyojuro walk very strange today?”, you question, earning endless giggles from Shinobu next to you.

“He does indeed.”

Sanemi Shinazugawa

“Watch out idiot, you’re gonna get hit!”, the white-haired man barks harshly at you before dashing towards again.

It happened faster than you were ready to react. A little troll through the woods at night, a deep conversation with the wind hashira. And just a few seconds later, an upper-ranked demon appeared out of nowhere.

“Don’t let it hit you, (y/n)!”

“I’m not stupid, dumbass!”, you bite back while dodging another hit with a tendril.

What a strange-looking demon that woman is. With countless pink tendrils that act as her hair and her long tongue, she really looks different from every demon you’ve seen before.

“Still fighting for your love, you fool?”, she jeers at Sanemi before trying to hit him once again.

"I will show you what love really is! It's a consuming fire that burns away your sense of self, leaving you hollow and desperate. It's an obsession that blinds you to reality, making every thought, every breath, every heartbeat revolve around the one person who becomes your entire world. In this love, you lose your freedom, your identity, and your sanity, as you sacrifice everything to feed the insatiable hunger that never goes away-“

“Can you just stop talking shit, ugly bitch? I just wanna go home”, Sanemi interrupts her dryly

You chuckle to yourself. As if a demon would know anything about love. Their only purpose on this earth is to kill innocent humans for the fun of it.

“What the hell do you know about love, huh? All you do is destroying it”, you blurt out.

Just a moment of sloppiness, a second of turning your back to the tendrils that surround you like a prison. The second you feel it, it’s already too late.

“(y/n)!”, Sanemi cries out, feet rapidly carrying him to your side in order to slice through that fucking piece of tendril that pierced itself through your leg.

He wraps his arms around you tightly, saves you from clashing onto the ground. But the second you open your eyes again, they don’t look like they did before. No, you look obsessed.

“Hey, look at me (y/n). Come back to me”, he insists, a slight tone of panic now taking over his usual so harsh voice.

What if that bitch poisoned you? Shinobu is miles away, there’s no way in hell he’d make it on time. And even now, tendrils continue to circle both of you, waiting for an opportunity to hurt him as well.

“Just see what love does to you! You’ll have to kill her!”

“What the fuck are you talking about”, he hisses under his breath.

“(y/n)?”

“Sanemi.”

Your voice sounds dark, unpromising, coated in something he’s never heard before.

“Hey, are ya alright?”

You’re moving too fast for him to react. In the split of a second, you sit on top of him, your hands holding his in place while your lips start tracing up and down his neck.

For a moment, Sanemi forgets how to exist.

You’re sitting on top of him.

With your lips pressed against his neck.

Almost instantly, blood shoots up his face and straight into his private parts, eyes widen in…horror?

No, not because of you, not because he doesn’t enjoy to finally feel you this close. But this isn’t you. This is the poison of that fucking demon.

Just before he gets hit as well, he slices through another tendril that was ready to attack both of you.

“You can’t save her and yourself!”, the demon shouts at him in sheer amusement.

“Your love will get you killed!”

“(y/n).”

His voice is as tender as never before, hands now grabbing your arms oh so gently.

“You need to come back to me, okay? This isn’t you, this isn’t…how you feel for me.”

He hates the way his heart starts aching as soon as those words leave his mouth. There’s no way in hell someone like you would ever fall for someone like him if it wasn’t for that demon. Not when you’re so gorgeous, so breathtakingly beautiful, so smart-

“But I love you, Sanemi! And I need you!”, you cry out, lips now only inches away from meeting yours.

“You don’t love me, (y/n). How could you ever love me?”

“Let me show you.”

Just before your hand gets the chance to grab his pants, he swings you around in order to lay on top of you – completely out of breath and flustered like never before.

“You need to focus. We need to kill that bitch”, he tries to remind you while dodging another wave of attacks with his free hand.

“You’ll need to kill her!”

“Shut up!”, he barks at the demon behind him.

But that thing’s right. With you writhing like a snake underneath him and those countless merciless attacks, he can concentrate on neither.

“I’m the only one who’s able to save her-“

“I said shut up!”

“(y/n), please get yourself together”, he breathes out.

God, why do you have to look so damn tempting with your legs wrapped around his waist and eyes as flustered as he’s never seen before? Countless lonely nights, he imagined what you might look like, feel like, sound like.

But this isn’t real. That sudden outburst of love isn’t real.

“Looks like you’re busy, Shinazugawa. Maybe you should do things like that somewhere other than on the battlefield”, a painfully known voice comments behind him dryly.

“Shut up at take care of that bitch. I need to look after (y/n)”, he instructs the serpent hashira sharply before picking you up and sprinting into the woods.

“I need you. Please”, you beg between his arms, the way your hands roam around his chest simply driving him insane.

“You can’t help her!”, a faint female voice cries behind both of you.

Screw that fucking demon. He needs to get the real you back, needs to finally confess his damned feelings. Even if all of this is nothing but poison, he simply can’t live like this anymore. Not when you’re so close to him every day, not when he secretly can’t get enough of that sight in front of him right now.

“Come back to me, (y/n)”, he almost begs while letting you down.

Fuck, what is he supposed to do? What if he’s not able to help you? Even if he sends after Shinobu, you might go insane until she arrives. And what if you do something stupid, what if he isn’t able to protect you? And what if this isn’t the only thing that cursed poison does?

“Don’t you love me? I thought you like me back, I thought we have a future together, I…I can’t do this without you!”, you suddenly scream on top of your lungs while bursting out in tears.

“What? I never said that-“

“I don’t wanna live without you. I…I’ll end this!”

It happens almost too fast for him to react. In the matter of milliseconds, you grab your sword and direct it towards your throat, ready to slice it open with full-force.

“You little idiot”, he hisses through gritted teeth while forcing your blade away.

“I love you so fucking much that it hurts, you’re the only thing I’m thinking about constantly! Can’t you see that you’re driving me crazy since joining the corps!? I love you, (y/n)! I always did and I definitely always will! You’ve got me trapped, goddamn!”

And then he presses his lips against yours. Longingly, passionately, as if you’re air and he cannot breathe. Never in his life, Sanemi longed for something so small yet so big. Each and every night, his mind wandered to your lips, your laugh, just you and your fucking perfect self. He can’t stand the thought of you talking about yourself so badly. Him not loving you? Are you fucking insane?

“Sanemi.”

You breathe his name against his lips oh so sweetly.

Sweetly, with that cheeky undertone he knows so well.

“Is that you, (y/n)?”

When he opens his eyes again, he gets greeted by the gleaming kindness that radiates from your orbs just inches away from his.

“I’m sorry for…throwing myself at you like that…”, you mutter with reddened cheeks.

How embarrassing. You can’t believe you were about to touch his groin without permission. Even if you were poisoned, what the hell has gotten into you? And why do you have to remember all the things you’ve said and done? That would have been the least that cursed poison could have done…

“Don’t be, it’s fine”, Sanemi replies equally awkward.

“But…are you actually into me?”, you mumble followed by a swift gaze.

“I…I mean…-“

“He totally is”, Obanai barges into the conversation from behind.

Giyu Tomioka

“Didn’t you say that-ah! This was supposed to be easy?”, you press out while fighting a bunch of demons.

You really have no idea how you ended up here. Just a few seconds ago, you were having the best sleep of the week when your crow interrupted your slumber as rude as ever and literally dragged you onto the battlefield straight on his side.

His side. Giyu Tomioka, to be exact. The mysterious yet captivating water hashira you are eyeing since the first day of joining the chosen circle of pillars. What is it that ties you onto him like a chain, that forces your mind to wander towards him each and every day without any break?

“I will take care of the right side. Stay focused”, he instructs you as absent as ever, not even sending you a single look while your heart is all over the place.

It’s ridiculous and you know it all too well. A man like Giyu would never fall for someone as clumsy and unsettled at you. He will never look at you the way you look at him, not even daring to send you a single smile. Because you’re nothing but comrades, distant known. If it wasn’t for your responsibilities as pillar, he would have never even talked to you.

And you absolutely hate the way this stinging fact bugs you every single day of your life.

“You’re not focused enough, stupid girl”, a voice way too close suddenly purrs inside your ear.

There’s no time left to react. Not even Giyu Tomioka is able to reach you in time when the demon scratches your neck oh so slightly.

Only enough to spill your blood.

Only enough to make you go absolutely insane.

Your mind gets flooded by a wave of emotions, memories, thoughts. All at once. So rapidly that you feel like fainting any given minute.

“What did you do to her?”

“Nothing hurts more but the truth. Did you ever wonder about what she might feel for you, even love, maybe? I will reveal her darkest secrets, her thoughts that were never said out loud. And when she finally loses her mind completely, I will force her to kill you and afterwards herself!”

Giyu’s eyes widen at those words. You, loving him? He never even dared to think about something like this, not when you are admired by everyone around you. Why would you fall for someone as quiet and boring as him?

He swallows hard. But knowing that deep inside him is definitely different from hearing those words coming out of your mouth.

“Giyu.”

Your voice sounds cold and distant, eyes completely blank.

“(y/n), I will get you out of here, I’m sure Shinobu is able to-“

“I love you.”

You hate him.

No.

You love him?

“And I’ve loved you for so long that I lost count a long time ago. I love the way you walk, the way you inspect the world around you so carefully. I love how tender you are when it comes to children. I love your kindness, your calm voice-“

“Wait, this wasn’t supposed to go like this!”, the demon cries out.

“I love the feeling of your eyes set on me even though I know I’d never stand a chance. You are so much more than a friend to me, so precious that it hurts. And I can’t help but imagine myself lying inside your arms every night. I can’t help but stare at you whenever I catch you training. I can’t stop those butterflies from invading my stomach every time you’re around. I love you with all my heart even though I know you’d never love me back.”

HIs mind goes blank, ocean blue eyes staring at you in sheer disbelief. Suddenly everything else around you goes silent. The demon, the screams from afar. All he’s able to see is you with those tears glistening in your orbs.

Giyu’s heart skips a beat when he begins to realize.

You really mean it. Every word you just said is true.

“But I do feel the same way about you”, he finally replies while cupping your hands with his.

“I just never thought someone like you would fall for someone like me.”

“I would always choose you”, you clarify in an instant.

And then your eyes roll back into your skull, your lifeless body threatens to hit the cold ground.

-later-

“Giyu? Where’s Giyu?”, you croak out before you even open your eyes, your heart hurting so bad that you feel like puking.

What happened? All you’re able to remember is Giyu’s hands intertwined with yours before everything turned black. Or was it just a dream?

“Finally, I was so worried about you, (y/n).”

But no. At this very moment, he still holds onto your hand tightly while looking down at you with his brows furrowed.

“What happened?”

“You were poisoned by a demon and lost consciousness. I carried you to the butterfly estate”, he explains as briefly as ever.

“You…carried me?”

“Of course I did. You were unconscious, like I said.”

“Did we hold hands?”, you blurt out so suddenly that you even scare yourself.

You can feel Giyu sliding back and forth on his chair, eyes avoiding yours at any cost. Oh no, did you make him feel uncomfortable? What if he’s annoyed because of your foolish mistake? You should have never asked him-

“(y/n), do you remember the conversation we’ve had on the battlefield?”, he questions with unspoken hope glimmering inside his orbs.

“I…I don’t remember anything…”, you finally admit.

What did you talk about? Did you insult him? And what about that demon? That thing definitely wasn’t a lower ranked demon.

“You told me you love me.”

Your heart leaves your body and soul behind, glossy eyes staring at him in sheer disbelief. Fuck, did you hear that correctly? You told him you love him?

“I…I said that?”, you stutter.

“I mean…M-maybe I h-hit my head a l-little too h-“

“And I love you too.”

Oh.

This is even more ridiculous.

“You love me?”, you shriek in reply.

“I never thought about the possibility that you might actually like me back. But when that demon poisoned you, when you told me that you love me…I can’t keep this lie up any longer. I love you, (y/n).”

Gently, he wraps his comforting arms around your aching body, allows you to take in his calming scent.

“It embarrasses me that it took a demon to finally say this out loud.”

“But…would you mind telling me what I said?”, you mumble against his neck.

He lifts up your head enough for you to catch a glimpse of his breath-taking smile.

“I’d rather keep these words for myself.

Bonus: Genya Shinazugawa

“Where’s (y/n)!?”, Mitsuri cries out in sheer panic while darting around the estate in a haste.

“(y/n)? I’ve seen her on her way to the hot springs just a few moments ago”, Tanjiro replies in utter confusion.

“Is there somebody else, Tanjiro-kun?”, Mitsuri continues while grabbing Tanjiro’s shoulders roughly.

“Hello, Genya”, you purr.

“(y-y/n)!? What the hell are you doing here, I’m taking a bath!”, Genya cries out with his cheeks already bright red.

But instead of getting lost like he told you to, you let your towel fall to the floor.

And stand in front of him.

Completely naked.

“What are you doing!?”, he shrieks.

In the matter of seconds, he turns himself away from you, his face burning like a thousand fires. Fuck, he’s already flustered when you’re around him in your uniform. But you, butt-naked, in the same hot spring? He’ll definitely die here.

“I needed to see you. There’s actually something I wanted to tell you in a long time, Genya.”

When the water around him starts to move due to you entering the hot spring, he feels like dying out of excitement and fright. You shouldn’t be here together, not when you’re completely naked, not alone. He never prepared himself for something like this to happen, didn’t even allow his mind to wander such places. Fuck, what is he supposed to do?

Suddenly, he finds himself whirled around in your arms, your chest pressed against his.

Your very naked chest.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

“What are you doing!?”

“Come on, I saw the looks you were giving me when you thought I wasn’t watching”, you purr while drawing small circles onto his chest.

“I…no…I didn’t mean it…that way…I just think that…that you are awesome. And cute…”, Genya mumbles.

“(Y/N)!”

Another splash, another butt-naked woman that now grabs your shoulders and pulls you out of the water with impressive strength.

“I’m so sorry, Genya! I fear (y/n) mistook the love portion I made for juice!”, Mitsuri bubbles while trying to tame you down.

“CAN THE TWO OF YOU JUST LEAVE ME ALONE NOW!?”

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix  @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld

@froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake

@lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @sugu-love @ryva @baku2345

@komelrebi-san @kentocalls @barbuse @sunshine7queen @lavenderdrxp

@yaninnaacu @hopefulbelievertimemachine @laurencrsnt @sanemifucker

[moonchild9350]

Napping With Stray Kids

Summary: Just my thoughts on napping with Skz!

Pairing: OT8 idol Stray Kids x reader

Word Count: 881

Genre: fluff, suggestive

Warnings: none (shocking for me lol)

Notes: This was fun to write and had to put something together real quick before life gets busy again! I'm happy this came up in our convos @jeonginsleftcheek! I hope you guys like it!

Likes, reblogs, and comments welcomed as always :)

Please do not copy, translate, modify, use, or repost this work elsewhere without my permission. ©moonchild9350 (2024)

Bangchan We all know Bangchan has insomnia and doesn’t sleep well or much at all but he’s more than happy to at least try to nap with you if you suggest it. He’ll hold off on his never ending to do list, because he’ll do anything for his baby girl. You snuggle into his arms, as he pulls the blankets up and around you to keep you warm. His fingers lightly drag up and down your spine, soothing you. He’ll even sing you a song to help you fall asleep if you want. Tucking your head into his chest, your breathing starts to slow as you fall asleep. Chan tries, he really does, to fall asleep and nap with you but he’s perfectly content watching you sleep in his arms.

Lee Know I’m convinced that if you try to nap with Minho, sleep won’t come right away. He’ll try and tickle you knowing how ticklish you are, giggling as you squirm and grab a pillow to throw it at him. He’ll tackle you and press kisses all over your face while you laugh and tell him to stop (even though you don’t want him to, not really). After retrieving the pillows off the floor, you’ll both settle in, Minho wrapping his arms around your waist and snuggling his head into your neck. If you’re lucky the kids will come nap with you guys too, Soonie napping by both of your heads, Doongie at your feet, and Dori snuggling into your side.

Changbin Changbin would be one to be watching videos on his phone like tik tok or YouTube and would giggle every two seconds at something funny. Every time you close your eyes to nap, his giggle would fill the room causing you to open your eyes and laugh back with him. You can’t help it, he’s just so darn cute! Eventually you do fall asleep, your head resting on your chest. Binnie notices you’re asleep (which is a miracle honestly because the man can’t multitask to save his life) and tries his best not to make a sound, you just look so peaceful and he wants to make sure his baby gets plenty of rest.

Hyunjin I believe that napping with Hyunjin would be the most poetic? Like you’re all curled up in his bed, blanket wrapped around you, your hair fanned out on his pillow. He’s sitting at his desk painting, cause when is he not. But you don’t mind. You watch him for a while, the way his hands move around the paper, the little face he makes when the color doesn’t come out the way he wants. You eventually drift off to sleep. Hyunjin notices, and smiles, happy you’re here with him. Little do you know, you’re sleeping form is the subject of his painting, as he thinks you look like an angel.

Han Han is the certified nap man, this is no secret. He is always down for a nap, add you in the equation and he’s the happiest man on earth. He’ll pull you into his arms, pressing sweet kisses and nuzzling his head into your neck. It doesn’t take long for you both to fall asleep. You’re just so cute together. And bonus points for the members if you guys fall asleep at the studio. They’re ohhhing and awwing at you two love birds, fast asleep together.

Felix On his off days, he’s at his computer, playing Genshin. It’s really the only time he has to play. But the moment you come over, he logs off and he goes to snuggle with you. You love looking at Felix’s face, tracing his freckles while he looks deep into your eyes. You’re both just so in love with each other. Your eyes slowly close, perfectly content in his arms. Felix would lean down to press a kiss on your nose, before closing his own eyes. He finds he sleeps best when you’re by his side.

Seungmin Now Seungmin could go both ways when it comes to napping with you. He could be a total menace by poking your face and tickling you. Making fun of your protests (lovingly of course) and not letting you sleep. Or he could be the exact opposite, a sweet puppy, pulling you close and softy singing you a song to help lull you to sleep. Either way he will end of falling asleep with you, mind blown at how he could have ended up with such a sweet person as you.

I.N. Now Jeongin is a middle child and hates skinship, this we all know. But I’m convinced if he’s going to snuggle and fall asleep with someone it’s you, the love of his life. It’s different when you touch him, he craves your touch more than he thought possible. He makes sure you’re all tucked in, nice and warm, but not so much so that he can’t feel you anymore. You’ll laugh at his actions, telling him you’re fine as long as he’s there. He doesn’t listen, he wants to make sure you have a nice rest and being warm and comfortable is part of that. To top it all off, he’ll drape your legs over his, and wrap his arms around you as you both drift off to sleep.

Taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek

[ghsface]

Same old love - Matt Sturniolo

Sumary: You helped Nick paint his room but the smell didn't go away completely and you had nowhere to sleep. Matt offered to let you sleep with him and you didn't hesitate for a second.

Warnings: smut +18, sexual tension, explicit content, use of fingers, wet dream (I don't know if that counts as a warning), unprotected sex (don't do it), soft!dom!matt, no use of y/n, friends to lovers, soft and funny end, rubbing, I think that's all.

A/n: Okay I wrote this without having any idea what it was going to be about but I feel like it's good but at the same time not so idk, and this is my first time writing a Matt fanfic or whatever you want to call it, btw if you didn't know I'm Matt Girl, I also wanted to tell you to leave me ideas here or in the inbox on my profile, since I'm running out of ideas.

⛧°。 ⋆༺ ✮ ༻⋆。 °⛧

You were at the Sturniolo house again, which wasn't unusual at all, spending more nights there than in your own house. You and the triplets were inseparable. That particular day, you had spent most of your time helping Nick paint his room, which had been more chaotic than you had expected. What had started out as a normal chore had turned into a paint war, leaving you completely covered in stains, from your face to your feet.

As the day was ending, you and Nick realized that the smell of fresh paint was still too strong to sleep in his room. Nick, hoping for a quick solution, went to ask Chris if they could share Matt's bed. After all, Matt had enough room and Nick thought it was the best option. But Chris, being Chris, flatly refused, starting a small argument in which a couple of insults were exchanged in a playful tone.

"Come on, Chris, don't be a jerk," Nick had said in frustration. “We just need a place to sleep, the smell in my room is disgusting.”

Chris looked at him with a mocking expression. “Why don’t you sleep on the couch or something? Matt needs his own space and he doesn’t want me sleeping with him anymore.”

“It’s not just me, there’s her too,” Nick explained. “I can’t make her sleep on the damn couch, Chris!”

“Well, that changes everything, doesn’t it?” Chris laughed mischievously. “No, not that.”

You just watched the scene, trying not to get too involved, but when the options started to run out, Matt stepped in.

“Now, Nick, forget it. She can sleep with me,” Matt said, looking at you with a mix of sympathy and calm. “It’s better if she stays in my room if there’s no other option.”

Although you tried to hide it, your heart started to beat faster at the thought. Sleeping with Matt… it wasn’t something that happened often, but you weren’t bothered by the idea in the slightest. There was something about Matt that had always attracted you, his way of being so sweet, but at the same time, it made you think there was something more hidden behind that good boy facade.

Once everything was sorted out, Matt lent you some clothes to change into since your clothes were covered in paint. The t-shirt he gave you smelled like him, a soft, comforting scent that you always liked. Along with some shorts, it looked like you were going to be comfortable that night, or at least that's what you thought.

After your skincare routine, Matt left you alone in the room to change in peace. That was what you liked most about him: always so considerate, such a gentleman. As you put on his clothes, a mix of nervousness and anticipation settled in your stomach. You knew Matt was sweet, but you had also felt a tension between you on more than one occasion. You couldn't deny that you were attracted to him, and although nothing had happened before, tonight you felt like something could be different.

When Matt came back into the room, the atmosphere changed. There was a brief awkward silence as you both climbed into bed. He kept a respectful distance at first, and you both exchanged a few words before sleep began to take over.

“Are you comfortable?” he asked you in that soft voice that always soothed you.

“Yes, thank you,” you replied with a smile, even though your mind was racing in a thousand directions.

Slowly, the two of you settled into bed, and soon silence filled the space. You felt the warmth of Matt’s body close to yours, and even though you tried to relax, you couldn’t help but think about how close you were. You closed your eyes, trying to focus on sleeping, but a strange sensation pulled you out of that state of tranquility.

At some point in the night, you felt Matt hug you from behind. It wasn’t unusual; you knew Matt always needed something to hug while he slept, and it didn’t bother you that it was you on this occasion.

What surprised you was the pressure on your lower back, a hardness you couldn’t ignore. You shifted your hips a little, trying to get yourself more comfortable, but as you did, that uncomfortable feeling in your lower back became more and more apparent.

It was a firm pressure, and although you tried to ignore it at first, you quickly realized that it wasn’t something that could go unnoticed for much longer. You shifted your hips slightly, hoping to find a more comfortable position, but as you did, the bulge in your back felt even more distinct. You paused for a second, taking in what was happening, and it was at that moment that your brain connected the dots: Matt was having a wet dream, and what you felt was his erection pressing against you.

Heat quickly rose to your cheeks, and you found yourself at a crossroads between two thoughts: the part of you that wanted to do the right thing and move so as not to make him uncomfortable, and the other part, the one that was already starting to get excited with the idea of ​​helping him, of provoking something more. You knew you shouldn't... but that same reason drove you even harder to continue.

You took a deep breath, allowing desire to take control. Slowly, you began to move your hips once again, this time with a purpose. Your ass rubbed against his erection, feeling how the hardness of his member molded perfectly to your body. At first, Matt didn't react beyond a soft grunt in his sleep, but it didn't take long for you to notice a change. His hands, which had previously rested relaxed on your waist, began to squeeze a little harder, pulling you towards him unconsciously.

Each movement of your hips became more intentional, rubbing against him slowly, enjoying the feeling of having him so close, so hard, and at your disposal. The pace was gentle at first, like a little experiment to see how far you could go without waking him up. But with each rub, the tension in the air became more palpable, and your body began to ask for more.

You bit your lip, feeling the heat between your legs increase. Just being so close to him, with his body pressed against yours, and the feeling of his erection growing more under your movements, was driving you crazy. You couldn't deny that you had fantasized about Matt before, but you never thought you'd be in a situation like this, so intimate and dangerous. However, now that you were here, you didn't want to stop.

You moved a little faster, feeling the friction begin to send small waves of pleasure through you. Every time your hips slid back, the bulge in his pants rubbed directly against your ass, causing a soft moan to escape your lips. It was an almost imperceptible sound, but loud enough for Matt, though still in his dream, to react. His grip on your waist tightened, and his body leaned forward slightly, as if he was unconsciously seeking more of you.

What surprised you was how hard he pulled you towards him, as if, even in his sleep, his body knew exactly what he wanted. You felt his breathing grow heavier behind you, his chest rising and falling faster as his hips instinctively began to move in response to your movements. He was rubbing against you now, almost matching the rhythm you had set, but doing so with a little more urgency, as if his body was begging for relief.

The pleasure of feeling him react in such a way made you move with more intensity. Your ass rubbed against him more purposefully, seeking to increase the friction. You closed your eyes, letting yourself be carried away by the sensation, by the heat that was beginning to build in your abdomen and the tension that was growing with every second. You knew you were getting wet, and you couldn’t help it. Just being so close to Matt, teasing him like this, was taking a toll on you more than you had anticipated.

Suddenly, you felt Matt’s hips leaning closer to you, a low growl leaving his lips. You tensed slightly, wondering if he was about to wake up, but when there were no more rough movements, you decided to keep going. Slowly, you began to move again, this time with more pressure, making sure that every time you rubbed against him, his erection felt more directly against you. You were enjoying the power you had way too much at that moment, knowing that he was so vulnerable to your movements, so needy and oblivious to what was really going on.

A low moan left Matt’s throat as he leaned closer to you, and his hands slid down your waist, gripping you tighter. His breathing had become erratic, almost as if he was struggling to stay in that dream, but his body was already fully responding to what you were doing. You knew that if you kept this up, he wasn’t going to last much longer in this position.

So, in a moment of pure daring, you began to move faster, grinding against him in a way that provided as much pleasure to you as it did to him. The bulge in his pants rubbed directly against your ass, and the heat emanating from his body made you feel like you were going to explode at any moment.

It was then that you felt Matt's hands grip your hips in a more possessive manner, and his mouth moved closer to your ear. In a low, husky whisper, he said something that made you shiver from head to toe: "If you keep moving like that, I'm going to have to fuck you instead of staying still."

The way he said it, so charged with desire and need, made your entire body react immediately. The choice was now in your hands. And instead of stopping, you decided to continue teasing him. You moved your ass back, pressing yourself further against his erection, seeking the friction more intensely, making him grunt in pleasure against your neck.

Matt didn't hesitate for another second.

The moment your hips moved back, deliberately pressing yourself against him, everything changed. Matt stopped trying to keep still, his self-control finally giving in to the desire he had been suppressing. His breathing became even deeper and more erratic, and without another word, his hands gripped your hips tightly, pinning you against him.

You could feel the tension in his body increasing, the heat radiating from his skin, and that was when Matt began to move on his own. Slowly at first, his hips rocked forward, his erection sliding along your ass as his hands held you in place. The moan that escaped his lips was low, almost like a growl, and the intensity of his grip made you realize that, from that moment on, there was no turning back.

Your breathing quickened, pleasure and adrenaline coursing through your body as you felt Matt press harder against you. Every movement of his was more determined, more desperate. His erection rubbed against you with a firmness that drove you crazy, and every time he moved his hips, you felt the pleasure grow between your legs, as if your own body responded automatically to each touch.

"Fuck..." Matt whispered close to your ear, his voice husky and full of desire. His lips barely grazed the skin of your neck, but it was enough to send a shiver through your body. "You don't know what you're doing to me..."

The need in his voice made you bite your lip, and without thinking too much, you pushed your hips back, seeking more contact. The rubbing of his erection against your ass, the feeling of his possessive hands on you, and the heat of his body pressed against yours were making it increasingly difficult to stay calm. Your body was asking for more, begging for more.

Matt groaned as you moved, and in one swift motion, one of his hands moved down your belly to your thighs, caressing the bare skin that had been left exposed by the shorts he had lent you. The touch of his fingers, gentle but determined, sent a current of electricity straight to your core. You knew what was coming, and your body eagerly anticipated it.

“If you keep rubbing yourself like that…” he hissed, his voice deep and lust-laden, “I’m not going to be able to control myself.” But even though his words warned of what he was about to do, you didn’t seem to have any intention of stopping. The tease was mutual now, and you both knew the situation was going to spiral out of control.

You moved your hips again, seeking the friction of his erection, and Matt couldn’t hold back any longer. With unexpected speed, he turned you on the bed so that you were facing him, your breathing ragged as you looked into his eyes. His were dark with desire, the tension evident in his features. The whole atmosphere had changed in a second, and now, the urgency between them was palpable.

“I can’t take it anymore,” he admitted, his voice barely a whisper filled with need. His hands ran quickly over your body, sliding down your thighs, over your hips, and then up under the shirt he’d lent you, caressing the exposed skin. Every touch of his turned you on more, making the desire become unbearable.

And then, before you could process what was happening, Matt slipped a hand inside your shorts, his fingers brushing your crotch, finding you already wet with anticipation. You let out a soft moan as his fingers began to move, caressing you slowly, playing with the wetness there. You knew there was no hiding how much you wanted him right now.

"So wet..." he murmured, his eyes locked on yours as his fingers slid inside you, with an ease that made you shudder. "All this for me?"

You couldn't answer right away. The pleasure that was overwhelming you was too much, and the words were stuck in your throat. All you could do was let out a soft moan, your hips moving instinctively to seek more of his fingers.

Matt smiled darkly at the sight of you reacting that way, and without warning, he began to move faster, his fingers entering and exiting you at a pace that left you breathless. The pleasure enveloped you completely, and your body could do nothing but surrender to him, enjoying every second, every touch of his fingers.

"You know..." he began to say through clenched teeth, moving closer to you, his mouth just inches from yours, "I've wanted you like this for so long."

Matt held you tighter, his body still hot and sticky with sweat. His breathing was beginning to even out, but you could feel his heartbeat through his chest, still racing. The silence that followed felt comfortable, filled with that connection you both knew had been there all along, even if neither of you had admitted it before.

“This wasn’t a mistake, was it?” Matt asked after a few minutes, his tone vulnerable. As confident as he had been throughout the encounter, he now sounded a little unsure, like he was looking for confirmation that he hadn’t crossed a line he shouldn’t have.

You turned your head to look at him, noticing how his eyes watched you with a mix of curiosity and concern. You smiled softly at him, reaching out a hand to caress his cheek. “No, Matt. It wasn’t a mistake.”

He seemed to relax at your words, letting out a small sigh of relief. “Good. Because I don’t know if I could have held back any longer,” he admitted, laughing a little. “You’ve always driven me crazy, you know? But I never thought you… you’d want anything with me.”

You laughed softly at his confession, feeling relieved that he’d been suppressing all that desire as well. “And you think you weren’t giving me any signs? You always treated me differently than everyone else.”

Matt smiled mischievously, caressing the skin of your waist with his fingers. “And how do you want me to treat you now, after all this?”

You felt a shiver run through your body at his playful tone, and you moved closer to him, feeling his warmth against your bare skin. “I think you can treat me however you want now,” you replied, biting your lip as you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye.

He let out a low laugh, clearly satisfied with your answer, and then his lips sought yours, this time in a softer, more intimate kiss. There was no rush, no urgency like before, but the emotional intensity was still present. His lips moved against yours with a slowness that made you feel like they wanted to savor every second of that moment.

When the kiss broke, Matt stared at you, his dark eyes filled with something more than just desire. “This changes everything between us, you know?” he murmured, his hand gently stroking your hair. “I can’t see you the way I used to go back to you.”

“And I don’t want you to,” you admitted, your fingers gently playing with the edge of the sheet that covered both of your bodies. “Because I can’t see you the way I used to either.”

Matt smiled, that charming smile that always managed to disarm you, and kissed you once more, this time shorter but just as meaningful. “So… I guess we’ll have to keep this a secret for now.”

“Definitely. I don’t think Chris or Nick will take it well,” you laughed, imagining the chaos that would break out if they found out what had happened in that room.

“No way,” Matt agreed. “But honestly, it’s worth the risk.”

And with those words, you both fell silent, enjoying the quiet and closeness. There was no need for more words at that moment. What you had shared that night spoke for itself.

As you settled into his chest, closing your eyes and feeling the rhythm of his breathing, you couldn’t help but smile at the thought of everything that had changed between you. You knew things wouldn’t be easy, but for some reason, that didn’t worry you. You were exactly where you wanted to be.

The next morning, you woke up wrapped in the warmth of Matt’s body, who continued to hold you close as if he never wanted to let you go. Still half asleep, you carefully stretched, trying not to wake Matt up. Every part of your body felt relaxed but, at the same time, aware of everything that had happened the night before. Your thoughts were a mix of contentment, happiness and a slight anxiety for what was to come next.

You got out of bed slowly, trying not to make a sound, but as you moved, Matt groaned softly and pulled you to stay next to him.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he murmured hoarsely, his hand still gripping your hip.

You laughed quietly, turning to face him. “I was just going to the bathroom, don’t worry.”

He narrowed his eyes, smiling softly before letting go and letting you go. “Okay. But don’t be long, I don’t want Chris or Nick to find you before I get up.”

“Too late for that,” you heard a familiar voice from the doorway. You turned quickly and there was Chris, leaning against the door frame with a smirk on his face.

“Chris!” you yelled, bringing your hands to your face, horrified at the thought that he might have heard something. Matt, on the other hand, just huffed, rolling his eyes before flopping back onto the bed.

“Well, well, well,” Chris began, crossing his arms. “Look who finally did it. Nick owes me twenty bucks.”

You frowned, not quite understanding. “What are you saying?”

Before Chris could respond, Nick appeared behind him, sporting an equally wicked grin. “I said I was going to stop by before the month was out. Chris bet they wouldn’t dare until Christmas, but look at them.”

“I can’t believe it,” Chris sighed, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “I lost the bet on you, Matt. And the worst thing is that all this time we knew how you felt.”

Your eyes widened as you looked at them both, incredulous. “What? They knew?”

Nick shrugged, smiling with a mischievous grin. “Well, you weren’t very subtle, to be honest. And Matt even less so. He always looked at you like you were the only person in the room.”

Chris laughed. “And not only that. We’ve been noticing for weeks how nervous you got whenever Matt was around. We realized you felt the same way.”

You looked at Matt, who was now sitting on the bed, rubbing his face as if trying to hide his embarrassment. “They knew all this time…?” you asked, unable to help but blush.

Matt sighed deeply, looking at his brothers with a mix of annoyance and resignation. “Yeah, they knew. They made my life miserable all this time, just to see when I was going to tell you.”

“I can’t believe it,” you murmured, still shocked by the fact that Chris and Nick knew about your feelings the whole time.

Nick walked over, inspecting you with a mischievous grin, and suddenly his gaze stopped at your neck. “Wait a second…” His grin widened and he started laughing. “Wow, Matt. Not only did you finally tell her how you felt, but you also left a mark of ownership.” Nick pointed a finger at your neck, and that’s when you noticed that you had several hickeys scattered all over the exposed skin.

You brought your hand to your neck, completely embarrassed. “Oh my god, Matt!”

Chris laughed even harder, leaning into the door frame. “Matt’s always been passionate. But boy did you leave a mark last night.”

Matt threw a pillow at his brothers from the bed, trying to keep calm. “Shut up, you idiots.”

Nick dodged the pillow, still laughing, and made his way over to you, giving you a light punch on the shoulder. “Hey, at least you won’t have to sleep in my room smelling like paint anymore.”

“Yeah, you have a new bed assigned now,” Chris added, winking at you. “And it looks like Matt isn’t going to let you go anytime soon.”

Matt let out a sigh, clearly resigned to the teasing. He then got up from the bed, walking over to you and placing a hand on your lower back. “Don’t mind them. They’re just a couple of kids.”

“I can’t believe they bet on this,” you said, still shaking your head in disbelief.

“Welcome to my life,” Matt murmured with a smile as he kissed you softly on the forehead. “But at least there are no more secrets now.”

Nick and Chris continued to laugh as they left the room, leaving Matt and you alone once again. Even though the teasing from his brothers had been intense, you couldn’t help but feel relieved. Finally, everything was out in the open, and there was no need to hide how you felt about each other anymore.

“So… what do we do now?” you asked, looking up at him with a shy smile.

Matt smiled back at you, gently pulling your waist to bring you closer to him. “I think we can keep betting on how long it will take for Chris and Nick to stop bothering us.”

You let out a soft laugh, resting your forehead against his chest. “I guess we’ll just have to get used to that.”

“Definitely,” Matt whispered, leaning in to give you another kiss, softer and more loving this time. “But I promise it’ll be worth it.”

⛧°。 ⋆༺ ✮ ༻⋆。 °⛧

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Tags... @matt-sturnioloo @realqueenofpepsi @cayleeuhithinknott @strnlslut @bsturnzmtt @slutforsturniolo @sophsturns @demisthings05

[saturnsorbits]

Skintight

Fandom: My Hero Academia, Warnings: Suggestive, Word Count: 2.1k.

Summary: Sero's got an embarrassing problem.

A/N: This is a new flavour of Sero for me, but I love this one just as much.

'You can't laugh...' Sero's voice is thick in the back of his throat forcing him to attempt to cough out it's awkwardness.

It doesn't work.

There's still the tell tale pinkness of a deep blush around his cheek bones, one that streaks down his neck and vanishes beneath the high, black neck of his suit.

Holding open your front door, you raise your eyebrows already on the cusp of giggles. He's leaning on your door frame, his arm pinned above his head, elbow pressed into the wood in a way that was almost charming. 'Okay...'

'Can – Actually...' He leans back, glancing down the corridor. 'Can I come in?'

'Of course.' Stepping aside, you watch as he slips into your apartment keeping his back almost flush with the door. You watch as he goes, side-stepping his way into your living room before turning quick on the balls of his feet to face you – the same sheepish smile etched into his features. Pausing, you tilt your head. 'Are you okay?'

'Y – yeah, uh...' He swallows, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he fidgets.

You raise your eyebrows, tipping forward slightly on your tip-toes.

'I – ha... See it's funny really because -.'

'Hanta, spit it out.'

He sighs. 'I'm stuck in my suit.'

You can't help it, a chuckle bubbles up your throat and spills helplessly over your lips.

Rocking his head back on his shoulders, Hanta groans. 'I said not to laugh...'

Sucking in air through your teeth, you struggle with party balloon lungs until the wheezing subsides and you can stand a little straighter again. 'Yeah, yep, sorry...' A stray gasp leaks from your lips, forcing you to bite down on the seam to silence it. 'Go on.'

'It gets worse.' He sighs. Squeezing shut his eyes, he licks over his lips before admitting. 'I'm naked in here.'

'I'm sorry, what?' You cough, disguising the tension in your lungs. It's hard not to look then, to really look, given the new information you've just been presented with.

Black spandex, strengthened with some obnoxiously named polymer stretches over the expanse of his shoulders. He's wide there, wider than you'd expect given his slight frame, but there's no denying the muscle that lingers under the material. The black extends, covers the swells of his pecs and then tapers, cutting into odd triangles that frame the ripples of his stomach. He's not as well muscled here as he is in his shoulders. Instead of the rough blocks of abdominal muscles, his are streamlined, forming two long, thick stripes of muscle that are almost totally visible through the pale of his suit.

Letting your eyes sink lower still, your gaze lingers on the thin strips of malleable metal that serves to strengthen his suit, but also inadvertently seems to perfectly highlight the deep creases that mark out his torso. You swallow. Hidden under a black square of material, barely contained by what you have to assume is at least two layers of material is a thick bulge. The swell is obvious, casting darkened shadows onto the twitching muscles of his thighs.

'Naked, me, under here...' Gesturing his crotch, he widens his eyes.

'The fucking zip snapped and I can't ask anyone to fucking help peel me out because whoever does it is going to get an eyeful of, well... Me.'

Blinking repeatedly, you swallow the saliva collecting in your mouth and snap your eyes back up to his. His jaw is tight, his stare worried and wild as he looks at you for an answer to a question you're not sure he's got the balls to ask.

Although, new information could prove you wrong.

It's in that instant that the silliness of the situation hits you right back over the head again. You manage to hold your laughter for a solid three seconds before it's tumbling out of you again. This time, it catches you off guard, rolling through you and almost reducing you to a crouch as Sero winces in front of you. 'Why couldn't you get one of the boys to help? Surely they've seen everything before...'

'And have Denks take the piss forever? No thanks.'

'Oh...' You fold your arms across your chest. 'And you think I won't take the piss? Is that it?'

'No.' He answers too quickly, but manages to trap the rest of his half-baked confession behind his teeth before it drops into the palm of your hands. The truth is, he doesn't think he'd mind you taking the piss – he doesn't think he'd mind you doing anything to him, in all honesty. Maybe that's why instead of slinking back to the agency and hoping that Hatsume was in her workshop, he'd found himself here, almost twenty minutes out of his way. He shrugs. 'But, maybe you'll be nicer about it?'

Locking eyes with him for a moment, you pause to watch him sweat before rubbing your hands together. 'C'mon then...' You smirk. 'Let's see how big that dick is.'

'Can you not?' Sero snaps, shivering when your palm meets the muscle of his shoulder. You slide your touch across him, moving in one solid stroke from his deltoid to the thick muscle of his back. The touch, as innocent as it is, makes his stomach tighten, molten lava churning as he submits to your teasing. A soft giggle slips your lips, sliding into his ear like sweet sherbet, making him half regret his decision to ask you, but then, your fingers are playing at the dips just above his collarbone and stealing coherency from him once more.

The suit is cooler than you'd expected. You can feel it, the tips of your fingers growing colder as you search across his chest, fingertips pressing against him in a search that quickly becomes fruitless.

Scratching, you use your nails to rake down his chest and attempt to ignore the way you can feel him respond. His whole body bristles, muscles tightening as a ripple uses his spine like a fire pole. You lick over your lips and hope he can't hear the shake in your voice. 'Where the fuck is the zip on this thing?'

Stretching back his shoulders, Sero swallows. 'It's, uh, around the back...' Gathering the loose hair

Immediately, you lift your hands as if burnt. Now, your groping feels gratuitous – sexual in a way that it wasn't meant to be. Not really. When you step behind him, twisting your hip to avoid bumping it against his, you don't let your fingers wonder.

It's not hard to find it, not now you're laser focused. There's a small bump. The slightest overlap between the two sides of his suit as it wraps around the base of his neck. A few hours ago there had been a zip, the thin strip of metal poking, just, from the material, but now, there's nothing there: Just the slight bump.

Laying one hand flat against the muscle of his back, you use your index finger to skate up the zip – parting the fabric as you go. At the top, you hook your finger under the suit and begin to work at opening it.

Each touch sends a series of short static shocks up through his body, forcing him to tense the plain of his stomach to keep him from folding over. He can feel it, the delicate slip of your fingers as you manage to shift the zip from the top of his spine to near between his shoulders. Inhaling, he starts to wonder if this was a bad idea after all.

'You want me to just keep going, yeah?' You move slowly now. It's almost obscene. A private strip show. One you're participating in, that wouldn't even be happening without you. The thought has you fighting your own composure, forcing you to lock your knees to keep them from shaking.

'Ye – yeah.' He forces a laugh into his voice, but it catches behind his Adam's apple and slips out of his mouth a rasp. 'It stops like, like,' he coughs. 'Like just above my ass.' The bridge of his nose crinkles, a cringe folding his features as he stops talking.

'Okay.' Your fingers feel like they're burning as your decent reveals more and more skin. The smooth plain of his back is revealed, the muscle underneath rippling as it's loosed from it's material confines.

It's intimate in a way you'd never expected as with the slick of his suit, so too are hidden secrets revealed. There's a mole just under the curve of his right shoulder blade. A scar that runs parallel to his spine, the skin still pink and fresh. The edges of black ink that wraps around the edge of his left hip.

When the zip finally draws to a stop, you can see the cleft of his ass. If you were to slip your hands inside, splaying your fingers across the warm breath of his lower back you'd be able to sink your thumbs into his back dimples. You imagine he'd sigh. Let his head roll back on his shoulders as you press close to him. Maybe you'd let your hands slink further, following along the grooves of his hips; lines that would lead to lower and lower, until...

'All done?' His voice is wound tight when he speaks, locked somewhere in the basin of his throat and released as if thrown out on a breath.

Your reluctant to step back, to recede from the heat of his body, but you manage it. 'Yep.' You pat his back, feeling the muscle relax under your touch. 'All done.'

He turns, already wriggling his shoulders free from the material of his suit. 'Thanks, thought I was going to be trapped forever in this thing. It's so...' Slipping his fingers under the latex clinging to his left shoulder, he stretches it from his skin. 'Difficult to fucking get out of.'

You chuckle and watch him struggle. He twists around himself, peeling the second skin of his suit away only for it to snap back and illicit a hiss from between his teeth. 'C'mere, before you do yourself some serious harm.'

Sero shivers as your hands skate underneath the suit and peel him from it. He'd close his eyes to hide from the intimacy of your slow undressing of him, but all that would do is conjure images of what he wishes would come afterwards. Images of him repaying the favour, slipping you from your oversized hoodie and sinking to his knees then repaying you again in a wholly different way. He can already imagine how easy it would be to have you, and yet... 'Thanks,' he mumbles.

'No worries.' You giggle, catching his eye before you step back: his shoulders and arms freed. 'Tell you what though...' Your eyebrow arcs, a coy smile playing at the edge of your lip. 'That really doesn't hide anything, does it?'

Eyes widening, he swallows hard. The knowledge of your staring, dare he even dream admiring, sends a shock wave of tension directly south. He cock kicks, his ass clenching as if to try and disguise the too obvious bulge against the front of his costume. In an instant, his hands sink, the top-half of his suit bunched in his fist as he plays the move for comfort and hopes you don't notice a thing. 'I...'

'I'm just joking around, Han.' You chuckle around the lump in your throat. There's a notable pulse in your stomach, one that sinks by the second and has your thoughts turning savoury.

'I'll...' Sero hedges. There's an energy in his muscles, one that makes him want to bounce on the balls of his feet and do something silly.

'Do you want a t-shirt?'

The more he looks at you, the more kissable you look. You always look kissable, but right now, with the sun coming in from your living room window and that small curious smile itching at your lip... You look phenomenal. He shakes his head. 'I'll just swing home. I'll be too high and too quick for anyone to notice that I'm semi-shirtless... My place isn't far.'

'Oh, okay.' You try not to let your disappointment show, but there's a notch that forms between his eyebrows that makes you wonder just how successful you'd been at disguising it. Slinking to the door, Sero has one foot over the threshold before he turns.

Fuck it. He thinks.

'Can I tell you something?'

Your eyes shine, head tilting. 'Of course, anything.'

'I really, like, really wanna take you out to dinner.'

Your lips break into a smile, forcing apples into your cheeks as a chuckle slips through your teeth. 'Yeah?'

'Yeah.' His smile matches yours, reaching his eyes and making him glow. 'Next week? That new place down town?'

You nod, chewing at your lip as you try not to feel like an excited school girl. 'It's a date.'

Sero's heart stutters, thudding in his chest. 'It's a date.'

-> Masterlist

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.9 words you've been wanting to hear

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot, marijuana use, sexism, sexual harassment (verbal only)

ᰔ chapter. 9/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 15.6k (WHY DO THEY KEEP GETTING LONGER)

a/n. HELLO MY DEAR KICKOFF READERS IVE MISSED YOU ALL SO MUCH i am soooo sorry for the wait on this one. this chapter felt very vulnerable to write for some reason lmfao, but i really hope it was worth the wait :''') see you at the bottom!! if there are typos or some things don't make sense i'm so sorry i literally gave up on proofreading this i just ended up raw-doggin it and then posting it

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☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1

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an additional author's note. hellooo ellie here. there are some additional warnings/tags for this chapter, i added them to the tags above, so if you know you have any sort of triggers, please refer to them before reading! but if you don't have any and don't want to be spoiled ab anything then you can keep reading lol. thank youu <33

--

The restaurant address that Kai sent you was just a ten minute taxi ride away, save for the five minutes you spent trying to evasively maneuver through the hotel lobby in order to avoid running into people you’re not too keen on seeing right now, a list that stacks up to just one person at this moment.

It’s a Korean barbecue place, it’s been ages since you’ve been to one, probably since they’re way too expensive for any sort of outing you could afford these days, but the crisp sizzling sounds of the grills and the savory air has your mouth watering in a way that makes you indifferent to the cost. Anything to get this churning feeling out of your stomach. 

It’s instantly brought to your attention that Hana’s tipsy off of Soju because she’s slid out of the booth the second you emerge to the tablestide, and she’s onto her feet to pull you into a hug. You hug her back.

“I’m ssssoooooooo glad you’re—hic—here,” she says, voice sounding loud near your ear, but her embrace is surprisingly calming to you.

Her face appears flushed when you pull away, and you give her a smile and a kind hold of her elbow. “I’m happy to be here, sorry for coming late, I just decided I wanted to have dinner with you all.”

Minato is pulling on Hana’s arm to get her to sit down, which she finally agrees to, and you glance to the left side of the table where Kai sat, meticulously turning over pieces of meat on the grill. His eyes are on you, and the seat next to him is empty.

“You look nice,” he says, eyes falling to your lap under the table once you’ve taken a seat next to him.

Your eyes fall to your lap as well. “Oh. Thanks. I wasn’t really trying to look any sort of way, though.” Just faded jeans with a few rips & holes you made yourself, way back in high school when that sort of thing was trendy.

“I know,” he says, smirk heard perfectly through his words, “I like that.”

You ignore him, a fleeting thought passing through your head of how annoyingly forward men are to women they’ve met within a day, just something you’ve noticed recently, and then you’re accepting the glass of Soju that Minato’s poured for you. Quick to tip it back, you feel a burn on your tongue that’s just enough to distract.

“Today’s game was pretty interesting,” Minato speaks up, picking up a few pieces off the grill with his chop sticks and placing them on Hana’s plate first before taking some for himself. You find the gesture sweet. “The first half was intense.”

Hana nods enthusiastically, elbows rested on the tabletop as she waves her hands around in the air. “Uh huh, uh huh, the boys kicked the ball like whoosh. Goes all over the place! Can’t get a—hic—can’t get a single shot. No, I mean me, I can’t get a camera shot. Not them, they can get the shots of goals. The goals of shots? Huh.”

“Alright, you’ve had enough,” Minato grumbles as he drags the glass of Soju that she was nursing away from her. 

Kai lets out a laugh beside you, his knee bumping against yours under the table. “I’ve watched so many of these soccer games for this job, and I’ve still got no damn clue what the rules are.”

You blink down at your empty plate for a second before grabbing the silver chopsticks laid neatly on your napkin, and taking some food from the center of the table. “Really? I’ve only been to a couple, and I feel like I get the gist of it.” Maybe it’s because you had a personal interest, though.

Kai lets out a low whistle next to you. “Okay, you’re a smartass then.”

You give him a sidewards glance. “Maybe you’re just dumb?” 

Your own words startle you a bit. Minato lets a laugh out, but under his breath, while Hana does absolutely nothing to conceal hers. Kai’s eyes just widen. You bite down on a carrot stick.

“Hey, hey, hey, y/n,” Hana chirps, tapping at your wrist, “do you know any of the soccer players? Utahime said you doooo.”

You swallow slowly to buy yourself time, but give a preliminary shake of your head before answering, “no, not really.” You catch a whiff of the cologne on your wrist when you lift your glass to your lips.

“Oh,” she sulks her shoulders and then sinks down into the booth again, her head falling onto Minato’s shoulder. The man stiffens a bit and then there’s a content smile playing at his lips. A hint of a smile develops on your face too at the sight when you put two and two together. What an adorable little crush. It makes you feel sick.

Kai pours you some more Soju the second you drink down the last of it in your glass, and you nod to him as a thanks. “Pretty sure most of my photos from the first half are fucked,” he says, dragging the opening of the bottle against the rim of your glass before pulling it away, “didn’t realize until way later that my aperture was way off.”

You bring the glass to your lips, inhaling before taking a sip. You’re about to speak up about that when Minato beats you to it.

“Are you serious?” he asks, disappointed, like they’re suddenly talking business now. “I better see some good shots. Your side was where most of the action took place. Like that through-pass, tight behind the defensive line, from Nanami Kento to Gojo Satoru before he sunk it a couple mins before the half ended.”

You choke a little on your Soju at the mention of Gojo’s name, and then all three of them are looking at you. You wave a hand in front of your face. “Sorry.” 

Kai grumbles something under his breath and then stuffs a piece of pork belly into his mouth. “Yeah, whatever, man. I’m pretty sure I got some good ones. Don’t worry.”

Dinner goes on like that, where you count the number of times Kai thinks that someone saying something funny across the table is an excuse to press his thigh against yours, but at least the cute way that Hana and Minato seem to inch closer to one another all night is enough to put you at some sort of bitter ease. But that unsettling feeling in your stomach from a couple of hours ago still lingers.

The four of you stand outside the restaurant, heels rocking back and forth in the cold as you all take up the last chance to debrief the day, and then Minato’s glancing at his watch.

“Alright, it’s probably time to head back. We can all share a ride to the hotel, it’s cheaper that way,” Minato says. Hana’s clinging to his sleeve.

“Oh, uh, I was going to stay here. There’s a cool camera shop around the corner. I was gonna check it out,” Kai says, pointing over his shoulder before glancing at you. “Wanna come? I saw they’ve got used film cameras.”

You twiddle with the hotel key card in your pocket. It’s cheap plastic, could break easily with just the right amount of pressure. Like your resolve right now. “Sure.”

He smiles at you.

“Alright, well I need to get this one back to her room,” Minato says with a sigh, pointing to Hana, “so I’ll see you all at the next game?”

You and Kai nod at him and then watch as he walks away with Hana on his arm towards the curb, pulling his phone out to call for a ride.

“Where’s this camera shop at?” you ask Kai once the silence between the two of you stretches out a little too long. 

“It really is just around the corner,” he says, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jacket. He starts walking down the row of miscellaneous shops and establishments under dim street lighting, and you follow after him before the two of you circle to the adjacent end. A tiny shop in the distance catches your eye. The LED sign above the storefront was blinking sporadically, and read 17th St Camera & Rentals, except half the letters were extinct of any light. Next to it was a 24/7 liquor store.

It’s only when you walk right up to it that you realize the sign dangling behind the glass door that says closed.

“Oh. Bummer,” Kai comments in a flat tone. “I swear it was open before I got to the restaurant.”

You sigh, pulling your phone out to glance at the time. “Yeah, at 8pm? It’s past 10 now.”

He looks at you and taps the camera case still hung at his neck. “That’s fine. I’ve still got a camera to show you, anyways.”

You blink your eyes at him, suddenly feeling a bit exhausted and then glance over your shoulder at the curb of the street to see if Minato & Hana were still there waiting for a ride. You don’t see them anymore. 

A distraction. Wasn’t that what you wanted?

“Yeah, show me.”

Kai seems to know the area better than you, since he walks down the haphazardly lain sheets of concrete across the ground with more confidence than a tourist would. The thought occurs to you that maybe the newsletter photographers have eaten here before during their time in Kyoto.

“What made you start working with the newsletter?” you ask, glancing at him as the two of you walk down further, into what seems like a neighborhood.

He shrugs. “First job I could find out of college. I had a lot of freelance experience, so I’m assuming that’s why they hired me.” He nudges your arm with his elbow. “What about you?”

“I’ve known Utahime for a while. She was impressed with my work.”

“Ahh, connections,” he muses, “smart. That’ll get you far as an artist.”

He suddenly stops walking and peers off to the right, into a darkness that you can’t really make anything out of until you’ve spent a few seconds staring too. He walks in that direction, the loud echoing stomps of his boots on concrete no longer audible once he crosses the threshold onto grass, and you follow behind to what seems like a deserted children’s park. You wish there were more trees in the city. There are a lot here in the countryside, and it makes you homesick for something you’re not even sure of.

A gust of wind brushes through, rattling the set of swings hung on rusty chains. The wood chips underneath your feet feel stale, with no snap to them at all as you follow Kai through the playhouses set up in connected fashion. There are two picnic benches, one looks like it’s been freshly painted with faux effort to improve its image in the line of sight of the street, while the other has red paint peeled back to reveal bronze underneath the moonlight, neglected and tucked behind a few trees. The latter is what he chooses.

He slides into the bench, and he shakes his head when he sees you try to take a seat on the other side before patting at the seat beside him. “It’d be easier for you to take a look at my side.”

He has a point, so you sit next to him instead. Although at this point in the night, you were feigning interest. He zips his camera bag open and you take a better look at the lens. There’s no way it was as cheap as he told you it was.

“There’s no way this was as cheap as you told me it was,” you say.

He laughs, pulling the camera out and handing it to you. “Yeah, maybe the guy cut me a deal since I’ve bought from him before.”

You’re smart enough to put the strap around your neck, even though you’re only holding it a few inches above the table, because a camera like this deserves the care and respect. The material is minimalist and sleek, and it’s heavy in your hands. You click the shutter button, screen coming to life with a few mechanic chirps. “Woah. Is it LCD or OLED?”

“LCD.”

“That’s nice,” you say, “paying for the OLED just seems silly to me.”

“I concur, Canon. Color accuracy is king.”

He shuffles to pull something out of his pocket while you continue to inspect the camera in your hands, and you see him fidget with said thing over the table in the corner of your eye. The flick of something and the light of something makes you turn your head to face him, and he’s pinching the end of a joint to his mouth, lighting the other end.

He gives you a glance when you stare for too long, inhaling from it before pulling it from his mouth. “What?” You can see the smoke leave his mouth in the chill of the air.

“Is that why you chose the secluded bench?”

“I did? Didn’t even notice.”

You blink at him, and he places his elbow on the table to lean closer to you. 

“Do you mind it?” he asks.

“No, not really.”

“Wanna smoke with me?” Two fingers pinching the origin of smoke tilt towards you. “This is my good weed, though, so, I charge by the drag.”

“That’s ridiculous, and no thanks. It doesn’t suit me.”

He lets out a laugh, releasing whatever tension he was building in your space, and the smell of weed is nauseating, but at least it's a new sensation to you.

“You’ve gotta be the only film major on the planet that doesn’t smoke weed. How do you manage?” he asks, the orange flicker of his joint being the only color you can distinctly see under the similarly flickering street lights. 

Your finger traces the rim of the camera lens and is careful to not smudge the glass. “I think I manage just fine.”

“Yeah. With delusion,” he says, coughing, scattering smoke into the air this time instead of a clean blow.

You turn a bit in your seat to face him more, placing the camera down. “You’re extremely blunt.”

His eyebrow raises in amusement and you close your eyes with annoyance at the pun. You brush it off.

“I mean, seriously, I get you’re probably just looking out for me, I guess. I appreciate that. But do you really think my dreams of becoming a filmmaker are that far-fetched?” you ask. There’s a crack to your voice at the end that you didn’t like.

He sighs, setting his wrist down on the table. There’s a long pause where he thinks about what to say. Probably the most you’ve seen him consider what words leave his mouth next. “I was in the same shoes as you, y/n. A couple years ago. I, too, had big dreams of making movies. I was going to apply to film grad school as well, although you’re shooting higher than I was at the time. There’s no way I would’ve gotten into UTokyo’s.” He tilts his head to the side a few times while looking straight off ahead. “I sent scripts in everywhere. To every fucking production company, creative agency, you name it. Never got a callback, not even once. While all my fellow grads were landing decent, respectable jobs.” He brings the joint to his mouth again, but he doesn’t inhale, just bitterly bites it. “I could’ve went on like that, but,” his brow furrows, “I’ve seen my peers torture themselves for years for those dreams of theirs. I swore I wouldn’t be one of them. Because they’re all delusional fucks.” He finally glances at you. “Are you one, too?”

Your shoulders drop a little and your lips purse. “I don’t know yet. It’s too early to say.” 

“It’s never too early to say, if the outcome is all the same,” he tells you. 

You consider his words for a moment. It’s the easy way out. You should consider yourself lucky. Everyone wants a reason, a sign, to turn away from the one thing they’re scared to think about. And here he was, giving that to you on a silver platter.

But if what you wanted was really all that fragile, then it means there’s nothing to show for any of it. For all the effort it took you to get here, and all the effort you’re still willing to give. 

“I’ll keep going until I fail,” you say, “or until I succeed.” It’s not really something you say for him, but for yourself.

He juts his bottom lip out and raises his eyebrows, slowly nodding his head, like he’s impressed by you. But his posture remains lax. “I mean, you’re working this job. You’ve got some sort of plan, at least. It’s not like I’m your parent to tell you what to do and what not to do.” He finally takes another drag, eyebrows pinching together at the same time his fingers pinch close to the burn of his joint to pull it away. “What’s that one saying? You can take a horse to the water, but you can’t make it drink.”

“Wow. You don’t sound a day older than sixty-five.”

He smirks at you. “You’ve got a lot of attitude, Canon. Where does it come from?”

You sink a little in your seat, turning away from him to look down at your hands that were still messing with the features of his camera. “My annoying feelings lately.”

“Feelings about what?”

You consider telling the truth. But you don’t. “My car is in repair and I’m not sure I can afford to pay for the bill, since things keep coming up with it.” It was the thing at the top of your mind at the moment though, for some reason, so partially truthful.

He laughs. “Yeah, cars have a way of doing that when you’re finally getting caught up on bills.”

“At what point does spontaneously picking up random, obscure jobs go from omg I’m so excited to have this opportunity to I just need the money?” you ask.

“You mean you’re not already at that point yet?” he says with a scoff. “Soon, then.”

You sigh.

“Y’know I used to work at this lousy cinema a few miles away from Central,” he tells you, hand tapping the table with a rhythm that makes no sense. “Busted my ass working minimum wage on night shifts because I thought I’d catch a big break in conversation with a director, as if Martin Fucking Scorcese would choose to host his opening night at a random Edwards in Tokyo.” His tapping on the table stops. “Tell me that isn’t pathetic as hell.”

“That’s pathetic as hell.”

“The things you’ll do for money,” he says with a sigh. He sounds detached, like it’s really just a message for you.

You lick your lips, skin feeling dry from the wind that occasionally brushes by, and when you glance at Kai again, there’s a grit to his jaw.

“Should’ve been born as one of those damn college athletes,” he grumbles, sucking in fast through the joint that was close to withering away. “Those fuckers don’t pay tuition.”

The harsh colors of the soccer team’s color-coded practice schedule on your phone are visible when you blink, as well as the exhaustion under Gojo’s eyes in the warm lighting of the hotel lobby earlier tonight. “They work hard.”

He looks at you. “I work hard, too.”

Your shoulders tense. “I’m sure.”

“You work hard as well.” Just to include you.

“Yeah.”

“I mean, you can’t tell me that it’s fair.”

Your mind wanders to some of the people you’ve met on that team, who have been nice to you. You think of Gojo, and the memory of him makes you wish you were with him right now. Despite everything.

“I guess it’s not fair,” is all you say, a tactic to diffuse the conversation, one that you’ve had to use twice with him today. The sound of the swing chains clinking together from the wind in the distance runs a chill down your spine.

You feel heavy in your chest, and you glance at the joint pinched in between Kai’s fingers. He’s not keeping an eye on it, so it’s easy to steal, and you bring it to your lips before sucking in. You instantly let out a few coughs. He’s looking at you with surprise. And you’re still in desperate need of that distraction you’ve been craving.

“How long does it take for it to kick in?” you ask, coughing again and pressing a hand to your chest.

“Super long when you can barely stomach a single drag.”

You try again. He watches you. You swear you feel a buzz this time, and you hand the joint back to him. You feel like you’re having an out-of-body experience.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Good,” you tell him, “really good.”

“That’s gotta be placebo, Canon.”

“No, really,” you sigh it. Even if it was, maybe your mind was just blessing you with a single moment of reprieve. “I feel…really good,” you say with your head in a haze. “Best I’ve…” you don’t know why you have to blink back tears, “best I’ve felt this whole week.”

Kai’s silent next to you. You look over at him, and he’s got a scrutinizing expression on his face. His eyes are glazed. “You seeing anyone right now, Canon?”

It’s the savory question you know has been on the tip of his tongue. Ignorantly asked, as if you would’ve been sitting here with him right now in the dead of night if the answer was yes. 

“No.”

He’s leaning towards you, and you’re dazed and also sleepy. His face is close now, there’s an urge to giggle, which means there’s no way this is all just placebo, and when his lips dip towards yours, you’re conscious enough to push him away by a weakly fisted hand pressed to his collarbone.

“Oh. I. Um,” you stutter.

“What?” he asks, eyebrow raised, still close to you.

“No. No thanks.” Because it felt wrong. 

He fully pulls away from you, and runs a hand through his hair, a deep sigh leaving him. “Alright.”

You’re breathing faster now, surroundings feeling vague, like you’re in sweltering heat but the air only bites cold.

You stand up suddenly. “I…I want to go back.”

“Go back where?”

“To the hotel. To my room.” You pause. “I mean, by myself. Not with you. We can share a ride, though.”

He stands up too, hands reaching for you, gripping the straps of his camera still hung around your neck and he pulls it off to place it back into the case. You feel like you’ve lost favor with him somehow. “Okay. Sure.” 

“But not with you.” You felt the need to clarify again.

“I get it, Canon. It’s fine.”

—

“Maybe you just need to fuck him aggressively without mercy.”

“I beg your finest pardon?”

You’re sitting in a booth inside this streetside KFC with Mina sitting across the table, waving a fry around in the air, and with Nobara next to you as she tries to open a packet of ketchup with her teeth. The hangout the three of you have been hyping up all week, just to be sat in the same place you always go to. You were about to take a bite out of your sandwich, but you set it back down on your tray.

Mina points the fry at you and shrugs. “I’m saying. Maybe you’re having such a hard time getting over Gojo because you got so close to fucking him in that bathroom, but you didn’t, and now you’re in, like, this constant state of edging.” She bites down on the fry. “The clit knows what the heart doesn’t.”

“Your theories never fail to amaze me,” you mumble, sinking further into the booth. 

“Perhaps it’ll take the edge off.” Mina sucks through the straw of her Diet coke. Nobara finally succeeds in opening her packet of ketchup.

“I doubt it. Besides, I technically already gave him an invitation to,” you say, fingers rubbing at your eye with a swipe as you wince from the memory, “and he rejected me, so, still swimming in the self hatred from that one.”

Mina hums. “There’s no way he’s not foaming at the mouth for it, y/n. Men never let a meal they were craving go unfinished,” she states, dramatically stabbing a chicken nugget with a fork.

“What kind of pigs do you guys associate yourselves with?” Nobara asks. She’s a lesbian, by the way.

“I raise another question. Why are we talking about this in a public restaurant?” you offer.

“Listen, babes,” Mina continues, like your words fall on deaf ears because she’s got some point to make, “it’ll either poof. Make your feelings go away like the drop of a hat because you find out he’s a bad lay. Or it’ll be so good that you realize you’re never getting over him and you’ll be thinking of his dick instead of your husband’s on your wedding night.”

“We’re. In. A. Public. Restaurant.”

Mina steals a biscuit from your tray. “If it ends up being the first outcome, then the whole thing was my idea. If it’s the second…then just know that Nobara has steered you wrong.”

“Why the hell do you have to drag me into this?” Nobara asks.

You’re about to take a bite from your sandwich again when you’re interrupted by the buzzing of your phone in your purse. You pull it out and glance at the caller ID, then let out a sigh.

“Sorry, I have to take this,” you mumble, slipping out of the booth and towards the restaurant’s exit, pushing the tense door open with a gust of fresh air brushed through you.

“Hello?” It’s the car repair man. “Really? I thought you said it was fixed.” Apparently something else came up. “Okay…how much longer will it be in repair?” Much longer than you had thought. “And how much will it cost?” Much more expensive than you had thought. “I don’t know what to say. I mean, really, I feel as though every time I’m on the line with you all, I have to wait longer to get my car back, and the bill just racks up higher.” They’re trying their best. “I know. Is it necessary to fix in order to drive, though?” State laws require it. “Okay…thanks for the update.” And then you hang up without another word, and with all the frustration in the world.

You head back inside and grumble about your car woes to Mina and Nobara, who try their best to respond with interest.

“Why can’t your insurance cover it?” Mina asks.

“Apparently they can’t claim it’s because of those rocks I drove over,” you sigh, “since it looks like it’s been a problem for longer than that.”

“Can you afford it?” Nobara asks.

“Not really,” you say. “I’ll just have to postpone having my car for a bit.”

You sigh with a glance out the window of this fine dining establishment, into the blue skies just beyond, head drowning out the voices of Mina and Nobara as they continue to grill you about all sorts of questions that you don’t have the energy to answer right now. You had another student loan payment to make once you got home today, and just the thought of it makes your heart drop a little. And you realize you just can’t afford to be picky about your financial situation anymore.

—

“Thanks for helping me out with this,” you say, footsteps over familiar grassy hills as you head towards the UTokyo’s practice field, your digital Canon EOS hanging from your neck. 

“Sure,” Kai says as he keeps pace next to you, “why the sudden mission, though?”

You’re gazing off straight ahead, a nervous pit in your stomach since it’s been a while since you’ve walked across this landscape towards the field. 

“I just feel like I need to diversify my income somehow,” you sigh, the buzzwords leaving a bitter taste in your mouth as you say them but it was the reality of your situation, “to make ends meet. When you mentioned freelance work during our conversation last week, it made me think it’s time for me to pick that up too.”

Kai hums. “Yeah, it’s a good plan. I’ll try to show you what I know.”

Once you’ve made it to the top of that hill, the one that oversees the field, your eyes instantly scan the field for familiar silhouettes, and your breath catches in your throat when you spot Gojo passively kicking a ball back and forth between one of his teammates for warm-ups.

It’s the second time you’ve seen him since that argument the two of you had in the hotel lobby, the first being at the post-game conference in which you did everything in your power to swiftly avoid him, and you plan on keeping that up. There’s also an urge to run away, but you’re starting to realize that’s not much of an option anymore.

“Honestly, you don’t really need to worry too much about shutter speed with freelance like you do for shooting sports,” Kai is mumbling next to you as he messes with the settings on his camera, the two of you making your way down the hill towards the field, and you’re not really listening because your eyes are on Gojo, who’s yelling something across the field to his teammates with a look of concentration on his face.

“Uh huh, I see,” you say. You see Kai glance at you in his periphery.

“You again!” you hear a familiar harsh voice call out, and you turn on your heel to face Coach Yaga who’s standing a few feet away in his custom UTokyo tracksuit with his arms crossed against his chest. “Why are you on my field?”

You hold your breath for a second. “Hi, Coach Yaga, so sorry, but I’m just here to take some more photos.”

He lets out one of his hmphs, unrelenting. “You’re a distraction. Get off my field.”

“D-Distraction?”

“Coach!” Suddenly, Geto’s in your line of sight as he emerges with a light jog up to your side. “You should really be nicer to our photographers, they give us a lot of publicity for our games. And publicity means funding.”

Coach Yaga narrows his eyes. “I need all my players focused right now. Even during practice.” He gives you a disapproving glance and you’re still confused, but also weirdly angered.

“Excuse me, Coach Yaga, but last time I checked, this field is technically open for all students. And I’m a student,” you say to him, crossing your arms across your chest now. “So, I can be here if I want.”

You have no idea if that’s true at all, but sometimes you’ve just gotta fake it ‘til you make it.

Coach Yaga grumbles something and then waves his hands in the air. “Fine! I’ve no bandwidth to argue about this anymore! Just don’t distract my players.”

You’re shocked that it worked, and Geto nudges you with an elbow to correct your expression so that Coach Yaga doesn’t catch on to the bullshit you just spewed. 

“Are you here to take some photos?” Geto asks, facing you. He’s got his hands on his hips, breathing slightly fast, some of his hair falling onto his forehead. 

“Yeah, I am, just for practice though. I’m here with—” you glance at Kai, who’s standing with his fists shoved into his pockets, “Kai. He’s also with the newsletter.”

There’s a moment where Geto studies the two of you for a second before speaking. “I know,” he says, extending his hand out for Kai to shake, which he does, “I think I’ve seen you around. Not sure if we’ve formally met, but it’s nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, likewise.” Kai’s hand is then shoved back into his pocket.

You feel awkward suddenly, and then quickly say something to Geto about how he should probably get back to practice, which he agrees to, and then you’re standing at the chalk sideline with Kai as he shows you the ins and outs about digital photography.

“Have you tried shooting in burst mode?” he asks, switching the feature on your camera and then handing it back to you. You sling the strap around your neck.

“Hm…” you start, pointing your camera across the expanse of the field to multiple areas. The trees off into the distance, the goal posts, Coach Yaga’s yapping Pomeranian. “Not really…” The grass beneath your feet, the sky above your head, and then blurrily focused before settling on Gojo who stood in the distance straight ahead.

You see through your viewfinder that he’s caught sight of you too, a look of surprise on his face seen only by the level of zoom, and you glance up from the screen to make eye contact with him in reality. He’s fully staring at you, and you can barely see the way his expression relaxes from that one of athletic concentration to something wistful and strange that you’ve had a hard time reading lately.

“Canon? Are you even listening?”

“Huh?” you snap out of it and look at Kai. “Sorry. Could you repeat that?” You quickly glance toward Gojo again, and his line of sight points towards Kai now.

“I was asking if you’ve tried panning before,” he says, reaching for your camera, pulling it towards him, but the strap around your neck means you’re pulled closer to him too. 

“Satoru!” Coach Yaga yells in the distance. “Eyes on the ball!” 

“Just got to set your camera to manual mode first,” Kai mutters, confusion in his voice. “Where the fuck is it?” He’s turning your camera in his hands, which only has you stumbling with another small step towards him, your chest pressed flush to his arm, and he looks down at you for a brief second with a smirk on his face.

You hear the sound of a ball being kicked on the field, followed by the shout of one of the players.

“Ah, here, found it,” Kai says, handing your camera back to you, and just as you’re about to say thanks and you hold your camera up, you’re hit straight in the face by a flying object and fall backwards onto the grass with a painful thud.

What the fuck?

Where are you?

Who are you?

Okay, that’s dramatic, it wasn’t that bad.

There’s shouting in the distance as you hold your head with a groan, eyes shut tight with images of your life flashing behind your eyelids, and when you open your eyes again from where you’re sat up on the grass, you’re surrounded by soccer players.

Gojo’s suddenly in your line of sight, knelt down beside you and he’s holding your shoulders, trying to get you to look at him but you’re still blinking away the stars you’re seeing. “Fuck, y/n, are you okay?” he asks, and you register the concern on his face.

“Dude,” one of his teammates kicks the heel of his cleat, “where the fuck were you looking? It was clear as day I was tryna pass to you.”

Gojo grumbles something to him, his brow furrowed, and he’s lowering his head to try to make eye-level contact with you but you’re still holding your head with a wince.

“Oh shit,” Kai comments, “she’s bleeding.”

You pull your hand from your face to glance down at the wetness that you feel, and bright red color stains the tips of your fingers.

The next thing you register is Gojo picking you up off the hard grassy ground into his arms, and starts carrying you away down the field.

“W-What the hell are you doing?” you ask, his pacing across the grass is fast and you have to wrap your arms around his neck to keep from getting dizzy.

“I’m taking you to the hospital,” he says, voice strained in his throat, and you’ve never seen him look so worried before. 

“The hospital?! Please don’t, I don’t have health insurance right now.” His face is so close and you’re distracted from the pain of your headache.

“You’re bleeding on the face, I’m taking you whether you like it or not,” he grumbles.

You dig your nails into his shoulder through the nylon of his shirt, and he hisses from the pain before stopping in his tracks. “I don’t need to go to the hospital, Satoru, I just need a fucking bandaid.”

“You could have a concussion.”

“A concussion?!” You kick your feet for him to let you down but his grip on you only tightens. “You’re being ridiculous. Let me go, or I’ll bite you.”

He scoffs at that and continues walking forward. “You’re gonna bite me? That’s the most threatening thing you could come up with?”

“I’m being so dead serious, Gojo Satoru. No hospital.”

He grumbles something under his breath at your use of his full government name, and then says “fine” but he’s still walking down the grass until his cleats begin to tap on concrete, and then on what sounds like tile as he carries you into a building a few yards from the field.

He seats you on a cold counter, your hand gripping the faucet of a sink, and you finally take a comprehensive look at your surroundings. light blue, faint scent of chlorine in the air

“Is this…a locker room? The men's locker room?”

He sighs, bending his knees a bit to look at your face closely. You flinch when his hand reaches out, and he pauses, but you relax slightly and then he rubs his thumb over your cheek. You feel the smear of a droplet of blood. “Yes. I need running water.” He turns the faucet of the sink on to run his thumb under.

“For what?” you ask. His thumb is running over your cheek again.

“To take care of this cut.” He disappears behind a tile wall for a moment. You can hear metal clanking, probably of a locker opening and closing, and he re-emerges with a first-aid kit.

You slide your butt across the counter to the edge, about to hop off and make a run for it when he grabs your hips and puts you back into place. “Don’t even think about it,” he grumbles. He leans forward, grips you strongly, and you see that he’s still breathing heavily from practice, strands of hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, and you can practically taste the salt on his neck. 

You press your shin to the front of his thigh, desperate to put some space between the two of you. “I don’t wanna be in here. Men are scary.”

“Well I can’t take you into the women’s locker room,” he says, ripping the packet of an antiseptic wipe open with his teeth, “I’d get registered as a sex offender.”

You attempt at an escape again, and he’s quick to get his hands on you to stop it.

“Quit manhandling me, or I’ll scream,” you threaten through gritted teeth, because you’re still mad at him. For everything.

“Go ahead,” he says, using his knee to spread your legs apart, then finds a place to stand between your thighs to get closer to you. “I’ve got a lot of ways I could shut you up.”

You blink at him, breath catching in your throat, and the expression on his face tells you he’s not interested in dealing with your stubbornness anymore.

“Just hold still,” he grumbles, placing the packet down on your thigh and then stepping off to the side to wash his hands under the sink.

“What exactly happened?” you ask, watching him dry his hands off with a few paper towels. One moment, Kai was trying to explain good digital photography to you, and the next you were dizzy from being knocked back onto the ground.

“You got hit by a soccer ball.”

“I know, but how?” You remember your camera hit your face from the impact too, and now you’re worried about it.

“I…wasn’t paying attention when my teammate passed it,” he admits with a sigh, finding his place in front of you again, the knuckles of his clean hand brushing across your cheek, caressing. Your expression softens slightly. He uses a hand spread across the small of your back to push you forward to him, then he gently passes the wipe over your wound.

“Oh okay so, you failed to protect me from a flying soccer ball.” 

He pulls his hand from you to read the lettering on the back of the packet. “I’m patching you up now, aren’t I?” he says, annoyed. “…oh fuck, I was supposed to go in with water first.”

“So glad to be in such good hands right now.” 

He gives you a pointed look, but you ignore it and turn your torso to see your reflection in the mirror for the first time. You had a small wound on your cheek, right over the bone, with some bleeding and it’s wider than it is deep. But when you look at Gojo again, who’s putting some ointment onto a Q-tip now, the look of guilt and worry on his face makes you feel satisfied for some reason, and you wanted to make it worse.

“Does it hurt?” he asks, brow furrowed, applying the cold gel to your cheek.

“Mhm. A lot.” Not really, no.

“Fuck. I’m sorry,” he sighs, head dipping towards you slightly to get a better look, “can you feel this?”

“Ahh, yeah. Ouch. So much.” Barely.

His other hand is placed flat on the counter next to where you’re sitting, and you allow it when his thumb starts to run soothing circles over your hip.

“Hmm…” you start, wide eyes looking up at him as he seems to lean closer and closer to you with every word that leaves your lips, “I really wonder if it’ll leave a scar.”

He looks tortured. His hand that was maneuvering the Q-tip in his hands drops to the counter now, and he brings his other one to your face, cupping your cheek. His eyes dart from the wound, thumb pressing at the plush of your cheek, and this time, it hurts a little so you wince. His expression is tense, some sort of inner turmoil you could read across his forehead, and then his jaw hardens.

“Who was that guy you were talking to earlier?”

You blink a few, then tilt your head slightly. You feel like you’re on a game show, where there’s four options and only one right answer. New boytoy, gay best friend, fuck buddy, or— “He’s my coworker.”

“That’s it?”

“Mhm.”

“Has he tried anything funny with you?” 

You almost roll your eyes. “No, dad, he hasn’t.”

“Woah. Say that again but make it daddy.”

“Hey just a quick question for you. Where do you get the audacity?”

His bent index finger finds a place under your chin, tilting your head up so you’re forced to look at him. “It’s your fault, really. I can’t help it sometimes,” he says, voice lower now. You’re squirming a little, wanting to push him away but his lips get close to your cheek, brushing near your wound, like he wants to make it all better somehow. “I really am sorry,” he whispers, near your ear. There’s a whimper you have to stifle in your throat. He pulls aways just enough to where he can look into your eyes. “A cut…” he starts, thumb now passing over your bottom lip, “on your pretty face.” He sighs. You shouldn’t, but when he prods, you tuck his thumb under your front teeth and your tongue presses slightly against the padded skin of it. He looks like he’s being driven to insanity, and his other hand has no shame at all in pulling you towards him, to seat you at the edge of the counter, and you miss the texture of his thumb on your tongue when he pulls it from your mouth. But it’s so he can dip his head down to kiss you instead.

Of course the sensation of his lips on yours only lasts for a second, because the universe really fucking hates (or loves?) you, so the loud clanking of a metal water bottle against tile interrupts with harsh reverberation throughout the locker room walls, and he pulls away from you when you jump at the sound.

You both turn your heads towards the origin, located at the curved end of the entryway hall, and one of Gojo’s teammates is standing there with his duffle bag slung around his neck and hanging heavily to his thigh, his water bottle clutched in his hand. He blinks at the two of you.

Oh. It’s the one you kissed at that party a few weeks ago.

“What—…Why is there a—” his teammate starts, panicked, turning his head to double check the sign on the locker room wall as if he’s hallucinating, and when his eyes land on you again, they widen with recognition. His gaze shifts, and his chin tips down at the sight of Gojo’s irritated side eye from where he was still all up in your personal space. “…you know what. Nevermind.”

His teammate’s eyes are on you again, and you give him a shy little wave, just a fluttering of your fingers in the air paired with a small smile, legs swinging back and forth under the counter. He lets out an amused scoff from the entryway, lifting his hand to return the gesture, some cheeky grin on his face as he then scratches the back of his head before turning on his heel to leave the locker room, out of sight. You let out a sigh, hand dropping to your lap, and you don’t need to look at Gojo to tell that he’s staring at you with disbelief.

“What the fuck was that—”

“You,” you interrupt him, finger jabbing at the center of his chest, “have seriously got a lot of fucking nerve,” you hop off the counter, “to not only allow a soccer ball to sock me in the face,” he’s taking a step back with every harsh jab of your finger, “but to also hold me hostage in a mens’ locker room,” his back is pressed up against cold tile wall now while he just looks down at you with wide eyes and something akin to fear, “and then, oh my god, the audacity to kiss me?”

“I—”

“I don’t wanna hear it!” you yell, which shuts him up. “You really are just a fucking player.”

He’s stiff, not wanting to catch a punishment from you right now.

“But it doesn’t matter,” you grumble, still drilling your finger into his ribcage with the intent to cause pain. You didn’t need to be this close, but his body is warm, probably due to the blood pumping from practice, and it feels nice to be pressed up against. “Because I don’t have feelings for you anymore, so just fucking get over yourself.” It was a lie if you’ve ever told one, but you wanted to believe it so much that it could come off as the truth.

His eyes narrow down at you, eyebrows flattening. “You don’t have feelings for me anymore?”

“No, I don’t.”

“I don’t believe you.”

You roll your eyes. “Why? Because you want me to keep suffering?”

He grabs your hips, then makes a motion that is evident of his desire to pull you flush to him, but he stops himself. There’s a moment where he just takes a few deep breaths and looks at you with a hardened expression, then a split second where his eyes fall to that little cut on your cheek, and every single feature of his face softens, and then he lets you go.

You take a small step back, breathing heavily of your own, and you feel the ghost sensation of his fingertips wrapped around your hips. It makes you feel dizzy, and your thoughts are a mess. 

He sighs. “Sorry. For the soccer ball, and this locker room. But I’m not really sorry for kissing you, and if that makes me a jerk, then so be it.”

Your heart is beating fast. “You are a jerk, Satoru,” you say. He doesn’t like you, he doesn’t want you. A mantra played over and over in your head that you’ve started to hear it at night. “A real fucking jerk.” And you leave him standing there in a way that feels like the hundredth time.

—

2:34pm kaito (work): yo

2:34pm kaito (work): i had my guy look at your camera

2:35pm kaito (work): it’s pretty fucked up

2:37pm you: :( oh okay isee. does he have an estimate for the fix? the lens is okay though right?

2:39pm kaito (work): yeah lens is fine, you should really count your blessings on that. 

2:40pm kaito (work): but nah, fix would be around the same as the cost of it, so you’re better off getting a new one

2:42pm you: i don’t have thousands of yen laying around unfortunately. my car bill has sucked me dry

2:44pm kaito (work): well let me check with him. maybe he can hook you up with a good deal on a used one

2:45pm kaito (work): i got a 50% off on one of my canon cameras i bought from him a few years back. maybe he’s still got some like that

2:46pm you: yes could you check with him please? thanks so much, really

2:48pm kaito (work): sure. although i think the guy that kicked the ball to your face should be paying for your camera replacement

2:51pm you: they were just practicing. it’s their field

2:56pm kaito (work): alright. btw, you free tonight?

You blink at your phone screen from where you were sprawled across your bed. Before you have a chance to type out a response, your phone lights up with a phone call from kaito (work). You accept the call.

“Oh, hi,” you say.

“Hey, are you free tonight?”

“Oh uhh, I was just about to check my schedule.” You shake your head at your inability to come up with an excuse on the spot.

“Okay,” he says on the other line. You hear the sounds of cars honking in the distance. “Well let me know. I just left my camera guy’s shop, and he was telling me about how one of his friends does visuals for a short-film director, and that the director is looking for an assistant.” Kai grumbles something about someone he walked past being rude. “I think the director’s agency is Verve Films, so.”

You sit up in bed, eyes wide at the mention of the name. “Oh, oh wow. That’s insane.”

“Yup,” he says, “anyways, apparently the director is busy as fuck, so he left the hiring process up to my camera guy’s friend. I told him I knew someone that might be interested. Are you?”

You take a deep breath in and out. “Yeah, I am. Most of my experience on my resume lines up with short-film, so I’d be able to—”

“Alright great,” he interrupts, “so we can hold the interview tonight.”

“We?” you ask.

“Well yeah, me, my camera guy, the hiring guy. Maybe go for drinks or something.”

Your brow furrows. “That hardly sounds like an interview.”

Kai sighs. “Well, it’s not an interview for a desk job or something. It’s more of like—well, like building connections. I know you know all about that, since Utahime got you the newsletter job.”

Well, yes. She put a word in for you, which helped get the interview, but you still went against qualified applicants. “I guess.”

“It’ll be like that. Most opportunities you’ll get if you still want to pursue filmmaking are going to be like that,” he tells you, “if it feels informal, it means you’re doing it right. You might not think so now because you’re still in school, where they practically serve opportunities to students on platters, but it’s going to be different in the real world.”

You lay your head back onto the pillow, feeling like you’re receiving a lecture you didn’t ask for, and your first instinct is to pretend that you know better than he does. But when you think about all the stress recently, all of the not knowing, and the unsure, you question if you should start leaning into the advice of the people around you, and start to accept this career path for what it’s known to be. Unruly, unconventional, and a lot of times, unfair. 

“I see. Well, can I think about it? Tonight is too soon, I’d need time to research the director, put a portfolio together, and also do some interview prep,” you say, pulling your phone from your ear to glance at the time.

“Well, tonight’s the only night that works since their team’s shooting abroad for the weekend and they leave tomorrow morning,” he says.

You purse your lips together.

“But also,” Kai says, “it’s the nice thing to do, y’know, since my camera guy is taking the time to look at your camera for free, you could at least help his friend out. By the way, he just texted me, he does have some used Canons available at discount.”

You close your eyes for a second, just trying to process this conversation right now. Kai was speaking too fast, hardly enough time for you to even think.

“So do you want to do the interview tonight?”

“Yes, sure. Okay. Just— just send me the details. I’ll be there,” you say.

“Alright cool, will do.” 

You say bye, and then he hangs up.

A few hours pass by, where you spend some time putting together a flash drive of a couple of your best short films you’ve worked on in the past with other directors, as well as a portfolio of some recently developed film photography. The last thing to do was grab your emergency stash of print outs of your resume, and then you stuff it all into a folder before glancing at the mirror to take in your reflection. It felt extremely weird to show up to a job interview in something as casual as what you were wearing right now, but Kai insisted to not wear anything business. But at least you opted for jeans that don’t have any DIY holes in them.

Your face is glued to the navigation on your phone screen the second you get out of the taxi, and you walk down the bustling nightlife streets of Tokyo to get to this bar that Kai sent you the address of. But just as you’re about to turn the corner to your destination down the bar strip, you bump into someone’s chest due to lack of paying any proper attention.

“Ah— I’m so sorry,” you say, your grip on your phone tightening when you realize it was about to get knocked out of your hand, and then you look up to see a familiar face.

“Oh!” Geto exclaims from where he’s standing right in front of you, “You’re everywhere, y/n. What are you doing here?”

You open your mouth to speak, hesitate for a second, and then continue. “I’m here to…get drinks with some of my friends.”

He gives you a smile. “That’s nice. I am too.” He points over his shoulder to behind him. “Nanami got into his MBA program earlier this week, so, Satoru, Choso and I are buying him a few rounds. Or possibly a million. The plan is to incapacitate him as punishment for giving up on playing in the national league with us.”

You humor him with a laugh. “That’s sweet. Or not? Well anyway, tell him I said congrats.” Your heart starts to beat a little faster, because from the direction Geto came from, it meant Gojo was likely just around the corner somewhere. “Where are you heading to now?”

“We’re bar hopping, and I think I forgot my phone at the last one we went to over there,” he says, pointing across the street. “So I’m going to go look for it.” 

“Oh alright,” you say. “Good luck with that. I’m going to go find my, uh, my friends.”

Geto tilts his head at you and had a slightly more serious expression on his face, glancing at the folder in your hands. “Thanks. And stay safe.” 

You nod at him and then walk past him to round the corner onto the street that had groups of people loitering in front of restaurants, bars and all sorts of establishments as they wait in the cold to get inside or be seated. You recognize the name on one of the signs hanging as the one Kai sent you in his message, and when you’re a few feet away from it, you spot Kai. He’s wearing his typical street photographer wear, with a red flannel over a gray shirt and pants that are possibly a size too big for him, but that’s likely the style he was going for. He’s standing with two other people.

“Hey,” you greet Kai first, who has a pleasant look on his expression before he greets you back and gestures to the two people he was with.

“Yo, this is Junichi, my camera guy,” he says. “Don’t bother shaking his hand, he’s a germaphobe. Gotta keep ‘em clean for the electronics.”

“Oh,” you say. Junichi is a big man, broad shoulders and thick muscles. His neck is almost as thick as his bicep, and he has no hair on his head. His arms are crossed. “It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for taking a look at my camera.”

He nods at you in acknowledgment. “Sure thing. Pretty Boy here says you want to buy one of my used Canons. I don’t refurbish them, so you’d better know how.”

Kai sighs, nudging Junichi a little with a fist. “Relax, dude, we can talk about that later. Also, stop calling me that.”

Your eyes flicker to the right, where another man stood, who you assume was Junichi’s friend and this Verve Films director’s visual effects specialist. He’s similar in stature to Kai, with that casual artist look, and he has a scuffle of facial hair littering his jaw in less of an intentional fashion but rather a five-o-clock shadow fashion. You vaguely register the scent of weed, familiar to the one that lingers in the photo lab on campus after class hours. He reaches his hand out to you first.

“Hi, I’m Ren. I work in visual effects for director Akira Ko at Verve.”

Your eyes widen as you shake his hand.  “That’s amazing. I’ve studied a lot of his contemporary works, I’d love to learn more about his process.”

Ren lets a fast exhale out through his nose. “Yeah, you’ll learn a lot under him.” He pauses to shove his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Most of his assistants always do.”

“We’ve been waiting for too damn long,” Kai interjects before you could ask any questions about the assistant position, and he glances at his watch, “and there’s still a lot of people ahead of us.”

You glance around to the small groups of people gathered in front of this bar on a lively Friday night, eyes jumping from one area to the next, until a familiar silhouette catches your eye.

You see Gojo standing with Nanami and Choso a few strides away, near the lamppost. He’s mostly turned away from you, Nanami nudging his arm annoyed at something he said, and the sound of his laughter in the air makes your heart feel like it’s at stray. Like that was where you were supposed to be right now, not here.

You watch him from the distance as he sighs, shrugging his shoulders up and down slightly before crossing his arms when Choso gestures towards the entrance of the bar, and so he looks in that direction too. He’s frowning slightly and he brushes some of the hair fallen over his forehead away from his eyes, in that boyish way that makes your heart skip a beat, and you know he’s just doing it to see a little bit better, but it makes you want to cry. 

Geto walks up to them and rejoins their little circle, and holds his phone up in the air, and then there’s the melody of their voices bouncing off one another’s again. Geto rests his elbow up onto Gojo’s shoulder, leaning in a bit closer to tell him something, and when Gojo hears it, you see his entire body tense before his wide eyes are searching his surroundings, until those eyes land on you.

Your breath catches, and you hold his eye contact for only a moment before you look away, because it almost felt like too much to bear.

“What’s that folder in your hand?” Ren asks you, and you turn completely to face him so you can’t see Gojo in your periphery at all anymore.

“I just brought some of my work, for your—er, I guess Mr. Ko’s—reference if he’d like to see it after today’s…interview,” you say. “There’s a flashdrive, too.”

Ren has an amused look on his face and he shoves Kai’s shoulder with his palm. “Dude, you didn’t tell her?”

Kai shakes his head. “Tell her what?”

“Ohh, I see how it is,” Ren muses.

“What?” Kai asks, starting to sound annoyed.

Ren tips his chin up slightly to study Kai’s face, and then his look of amusement dissipates into one of understanding. “Nothing.”

“Tell me what?” you prod.

“Just that you didn’t really need to bring all of that with you,” he says. “Sorry for the trouble.”

You shake your head. “It’s fine, but if you could still give it to him—”

“I’m surprised Kai suggested someone when I asked if he knew anyone,” Junichi jumps in, “I’m used to him grumbling on and on about how shit the work is in filmmaking. Would’ve thought he’d convinced you to look the other way by now.”

You blink at the gruff man, then look at Kai, and he’s just staring down at the dirt of his shoes. “Well, we had a conversation about it. But I’m pretty set on what I want to do,” you say.

Kai lets out a scoff. “Yeah, I don’t really know how else to warn you about the shit show you’re in for, but if you want to be in debt to grad school for the next couple decades of your life, then it’s up to you.”

“Hey, jackass, try to be a bit nicer,” Ren speaks up. “She’s got some goals. Big fuckin’ deal.” He turns to you. “Although, he’s got a point sweetheart, school’s not going to get you anywhere in this industry.”

You frown. “A lot of directors I look up to went through graduate schooling. Most, I would say. I don’t understand where this rhetoric is coming from.”

“It’s coming from real people with real experience,” Ren says, and you dislike the way he takes a step closer to you to reiterate his point, “honestly, you should save yourself some time and give up on applying. It’s not worth it.”

“I’ve already put my application together,” you say, brow furrowing slightly, “I’ve asked professors for my references, spent the past four years working on my profile—” 

“But working under a director, I mean really getting to work under one, beats all of that. Which is why you’re here, right?” Ren asks, but it’s not curious, it’s testing.

You feel a sheen of sweat build at your forehead, even in this cold, and you clench your hand into a fist once, twice, thrice. You’re breathing fast, and the three sets of eyes that are staring so scrutinizingly into your soul right now have you faltering, like if they took another step forward, tried to intrude what you thought you knew one more time, you’d fall backwards over the cliff.

Suddenly, a hand wraps around your upper arm, and when you turn your head to the left, you see Gojo standing there.

“Hey,” he says to you, sparing one single sidewards glare towards Kai, who immediately averts the eye contact, before Gojo’s eyes are on you again, “can I talk to you for a second?”

You look at the three men in your circle, who suddenly adopt skittish body postures, and Gojo doesn’t really wait longer than a few seconds before he’s pulling you away from them over towards the edge of the curb towards the street.

“What?” you ask once he lets go of your arm.

“What are you doing here with those guys?” he asks.

“I’m—…why does it matter to you?” you ask.

“It matters to me because of the fucking absurd conversation I just overheard,” he says, “now answer me.”

His tone annoys you, and you cross your arms. “Are you eavesdropping?”

“I’m going to ask you one more time,” he says, taking a step forward to you, “who are those guys, and why are you here with them?”

You blink at him, furrowed brows relaxing slightly as you drop your crossed arms to your side, and you stare straight ahead at the blankness of the white t-shirt he’s wearing, as your mind runs blank to his question. Why were you here with them? Was it because you had no other plans? Was it because the opportunity sounded too good to be true, and you just had to see for yourself? Was it because you’ve been unable to sleep at night from all the stress, the financial worries, the rejection, and you just want to finally feel like you’ve done one good thing for yourself? To feel like you’re at least making one step in the right direction, no matter the cost?

“I’m here for a job interview,” you say to him. Your tone is flat, and you feel numb.

“A job interview?” he asks, with just about as much incredulity you would’ve expected to hear from him at that answer, “At a bar? How does that make any sense?”

“It…” you start, “sounded fine.”

“It sounds shady as fuck.”

“This doesn’t concern you, okay? I’m—…I’m just trying to make my goals work for me, Satoru, and I really don’t expect you to understand.”

“Why wouldn’t I understand?” he asks. There’s confusion in his voice, and maybe even a little bit of hurt.

“Because you can’t even understand how unfair and painful it is for me that you keep—” you have to purse your lips together briefly to fight back the knot in your throat, “…that you keep interfering with my life everywhere I go.”

His expression softens, and he silently stands in front of you for a moment. His eyes dart across your face, and then he reaches out to grab your hand. “Listen, if you still want to get drinks tonight, then just get drinks with us. But don’t hang out with those guys. They’re bad news, especially the dude with the flannel, and I don’t think you’re in a good place right now to see that.”

Your eyes see white fury at that, and you all but snap. Because the irony of this whole situation, is that you’re not in a good place right now because of him. Because of all the pain that he’s put you through, for promising to stay away but then always being near, for saying he doesn’t want you but then acting like he does. 

“You know what I think, Satoru?” you ask through gritted teeth, yanking your hand from his grasp.

He’s looking at you, studying. “What?”

You take a step forward, threateningly, and he takes a step back so that he steps off the curb and onto the road, and you’re at eye-level with him now. “I think that you’re jealous,” you say, eyes glaring daggers into his.

He blinks at you, almost dumbfounded for a moment before he says “what?”

“You’re just fucking jealous that I seem to be moving on after you rejected me, because for some weird reason, you think it’s okay to not want me, and yet not want me to be with anyone else,” you say, practically hissing the words. “You don’t like seeing me with any guys other than you? You don’t want to believe me when I say that I’m over you? You’re not sorry for kissing me? Even after knowing,” you take a pause to breathe, because you feel like you can’t, “even after knowing that I like you,” eyes blinking fast because you don’t want him to see you cry right now, “you know that I like you so fucking much, and that it’s hurtful, and that it’s wrong— and even after all of that, you act the same, and still won’t promise me any commitment of your own.”

He’s looking at you with an expression you can’t read, but you’ve lost all interest in trying to understand it anymore.

“You don’t want me hanging out with them?” you repeat after him, “I’m not listening to that. Because it’s possessive. And it’s wrong.”

At the mention of them, Gojo clenches his jaw. “That has nothing to do with you and me, right now. What they’re trying to convince you of doesn’t make any sense, and it won’t help you achieve your dreams either, y/n.”

“You don’t know anything about my dreams, Satoru,” you say, just to hurt him. But you think about the sincere expression on his face the first time you met him when you told him that you wanted his help with your assignment. You think about the playful nudge of his elbow that night he stayed with you on the curb, and told you that you just had to try to put yourself out there, because you couldn’t accomplish anything without facing your fears. You think about how he’s always the first to like every single one of the slideshows you post of your pictures on Instagram. You think about the adoration in his eyes, reflected off the moonlight through the hotel window, when you told him about a little cottage on the countryside, one you’ve always wanted, and those eyes told you that he was really rooting for you. “You don’t know. Because you—” there’s an echo of words in your head. Someone else’s words, not yours, “Because you’re a college athlete. And—” you let out an exhale, “and you don’t pay tuition.”

His brow furrows. There’s a beat of silence as his confusion settles in. “What?”

“You were born blessed with talent, and you’re popular, and people adore you, and you don’t have to worry about internships, or jumping from job to job just to make something of yourself,” you say, picturing your life in your head along with all the strife, “or about all of the sinking debt, and the worry, and the— and the car repair bills,” you say, almost with a scoff, eyes sheening with tears, like you’re losing your mind, “all of the fucking car repair bills.” Your chest is heaving as you shake your head. “Because you’re set for life as long as you kick a fucking ball.” 

His lips purse together, like he can tell there’s more on your tongue to say, more hurtful words, and he wants to hear you say them. And so you do.

“You’ve never had to suffer or worry about a single thing in your life. So don’t pretend like you understand what I’m trying to do here tonight,” you say, inflection signing off on the end, to tell him that you’re done. 

He stands in front of you, practically motionless except for the slow movement of his chest as he breathes. His expression, tense and hurt, softens slowly, and you see him digging his nails into the skin of his palms through fidgeting clenched fists at his sides. And then he relaxes them, too.

“Does that make you feel better?” he asks.

His question confuses you, and for some reason, regret washes over you. “What?”

“Does thinking of me that way—…does it make you feel better about all of this? Between us?”

You’re breathing fast, eyebrows pinching upwards to look at him, and the defeated expression on his face makes your heart ache. He’s waiting for an answer, and so you give him one. “Yes.”

He glances down at the ground for a moment, then at your collarbone, before meeting your gaze again. “I’m sorry. For everything. And I—” the words catch in his throat briefly, “I’ll try to leave you alone tonight.”

His use of the word try doesn’t escape you, but you give him a furtive nod, and he studies your face for a few moments before he steps back up onto the curb and walks past you. You watch him walk all the way, no longer with that confidence or conviction you’re so used to seeing in him, as he steps back into his circle, to Geto’s side. Geto gives a small glance over his shoulder to look at you with discerning eyes before looking at Gojo again, and then he’s turned away from you. 

Heavy feet drag you back to Kai, Ren, and Junichi, and you feel feverish. They mention something about the table being ready, and you nod. The bar is rustic, with more tables than barspace, and the four of you are seated and then presented with a small food menu. You’re seated next to Kai, Ren is right across from you, and Junichi is to his right. You watch a waitress usher Nanami, Choso, Geto and Gojo to one of the tables as well, two away from yours, and you forcefully blur your vision so you don’t have to catch sight of the expression on Gojo’s face.

“So,” Ren speaks up as his eyes peruse the food menu and Junichi waves the waitress over to order a round of sake, “tell me more about your experience, sweetheart.”

You blink at him, eyes feeling heavy, heart feeling heavy. “I’d prefer it if you called me by my name.”

Ren lets out a coo, and you briefly glance at Kai who’s shaking his head with a sigh. “My bad, y/n. Your experience?”

Your hands play with the folder sitting in your lap. “I started writing screenplays for small-scale directors when I was a freshman, and was greenlit on a couple into my sophomore year. One of the films I worked on, I had directing credits for, and it was nominated for best screenplay at Etoile Film Festival the year following.”

Ren swallows slightly, shifting in his chair and pushing his shoulders back, like he’s trying to establish himself now. Kai is clenching a fist on the surface of the table.

Ren clears his throat before speaking again. “Wow, okay, so you’ve actually got some serious shit going on.” His voice is a faux octave deeper. “What do you know about being a good assistant? Ever worked in customer service? Secretary?”

“Oh, I mean I have worked in customer service, but I wasn’t done sharing about my experience—” you try to say but Junichi cuts you off.

“First round’s on me,” he declares, “for bringing her out here.” He tips his chin to you and then sends Kai a glance.

A waitress brings by a bottle of sake, and Junichi begins pouring drinks into the glasses, then slides them across the table. Kai gives Ren a pointed look. 

“Don’t get too wasted,” Kai says to him as he brings his glass to his lips, “you start running that mouth of yours a little too much when you do.”

Ren grins at him and immediately knocks down the glass Junichi barely finished pouring from him in one go, and the gruff man beside him is grumbling. “Whatever you say.”

Something had been bothering you since you came here. “Wait,” you say, pointing between Kai and Ren, “do you two know each other already? Because,” you turn to look at Kai, “on the phone earlier, you sounded like you didn’t.”

Kai’s eyebrows raise in surprise, as though he’s discovered you have some skill for foresight. You glance at Ren, and he gives Kai a puzzled look.

“Uh, yeah. I’ve known Kai for years,” he says, “we go way back. We went to highschool together.”

Kai shifts a little in his chair. “Sorry. Probably forgot to mention it.”

You glance down at the glass of sake in front of you, and the way it twinkles under the lighting of the bar. You slowly bring it to your mouth, taking a small sip, and the way it coats your tongue is less than pleasing. 

“Can you tell me more about the assistant position?” you ask Ren, who’s emptied out the bottle of sake and waving someone over to order more. He already has a slightly flush to his face.

“Yeah, yeah, will do,” he says, “but first, let me tell you about what I do in visuals.”

Another round of sake is dropped by, and then another, followed by another, as Ren continues to ramble on and on about what he does for work, and how it’s entirely integral to the final piece of the film, although you’ve never really had a terrible level of appreciation for visual effects in short-film craft, since it’s hardly much work. But you wouldn’t say that, you just continue to nurse your one glass of sake as the three men surrounding you knock back more and more, and there’s slurs to their speeches now.

“Sooo, I’m so sorry, sweetheart—I mean y/n, for cuttin’ you off earlier,” he says, “but what was that experience you wanted to talk to me about?” Ren asks from across the table, and his eyes are all traveling over you.

“I…” you start, “well, I started to work with one of my professors last year, she’s a two-time Cannes Film Festival winner, and she let me under her wing for one of her projects last year.”

“Who is she? Oh wait, nevermind, probably wouldn’t have heard of her anyways,” Ren says, but when you fail to laugh, he waves his hand in the air. “Joking, joking. What’s her name?”

“Naoko. Naoko Ogigami.”

“Oh shit. I have heard of her,” Ren says, followed by a shallow hiccup. Junichi shrugs his shoulders, and when you look at Kai, he’s nodding slowly and toying with the rim of his glass with a finger.

“Yes. Well, anyways—” you start up again, before Kai sets his glass of sake down particularly loud.

“This is all bullshit. Really. I told you, filmmaking is a waste of time. Just focus on your photography, and your freelance or whatnot,” Kai says, grit to his jaw, face looking red with possibly something other than just a tipsiness. 

Ren lets out a laugh. “Fuckin’ Kai. What a pessimist. Don’t listen to him, sweetheart,” he says, slurred, and you furrow your brow at him with a glare, “sorry. Don’t listen to him. Trust me, you’ll learn a lot under Mr. Ko. He’s a suuuper nice guy.”

“What’s the compensation?” you ask. It’s a brazen question, one you’d never ask so soon in a formal interview process, but this table was hardly anything formal.

“Real good. Mmm I think like…5200 yen an hour, and then also, you get your foot in the door.”

“Oh,” you sit up a little in your chair. It was higher than most entry-level anything for undergraduates or even new grads. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he drawls when he sees you’re more interested. “Good stuff. Kai used to pick these kinds of jobs up, too, back in his college days. I remember. Although, he’s hardly Mr. Ko’s type, so I doubt he’d be any good for this one.”

Your head snaps to Ren again at his words, face tensing. 

“Tell her about what a job like this—hic—entails,” Ren says as he extends his glass out for Junichi to pour him another.

Kai glances at Ren once, and you watch him grind his teeth for a moment, and then there’s a hint of a smirk on his face.

“Oh. Y’know, clerical work. Stuff like printing scripts out,” Kai starts, Junichi filling up his glass and then he raises it into the air to watch the liquid swish around, “grabbing him coffee. Making sure his trailer is stocked.”

“Blowing him in said trailer,” Ren says. It’s something quiet, under his breath with a small laugh, where you could barely hear it across the table. But you heard it nonetheless. And your heart sinks to the core of the earth.

“Excuse me?” you say. The benefit of doubt sitting on your shoulder, watching in disbelief as well.

“He’s joking,” Kai says, quickly, “runnin’ his mouth.”

“Oh fuck off, Kai,” Ren says, throwing his hands up in the air, “don’t act like that’s not why you brought her here.”

Your head slowly turns to Kai, who can’t meet your gaze. Your eyes flicker to Junichi, who looks amused. 

Ren leans over the table, elbows resting on top, to look you straight in the eyes. He’s got a sleazy smile, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath, and he dips his tone down low enough to where you can hardly hear it over the sounds surrounding you in the bar. “That’s how you’ll make it in this industry, sweetheart. Whether you like it or not, you’ll be working under those directors until you make it.”

You stand up so fast that your chair falls behind you, hand raised in the air, and you swiftly slap the man across from you so hard across the cheek that it leaves his skin even more red than the flush from before, and your palm is stinging. 

There’s gasps all around the bar, hushed voices, eyes on you, but you don’t care. There’s not a single thing in the world you care more about right now than the anger swelled in your chest.

Ren holds his cheek, surprised, blinking like a pathetic animal. He almost looks like he’s about to cry, and you let out a scoff at the sight.

You turn to face Kai, whose eyes are wide and he’s staring up at you. Your fists are clenched at your side.

“Is this why you brought me here tonight?” you ask. Your voice is trembling, anxiety at the wake, the white anger spotting your vision. But there’s also pain. So much pain, and you’re just so fed up with all of it. “Because your belittling, condescending words weren’t enough to tear my hopes apart, so you had to humiliate me in front of your friends instead?”

Kai holds his hand up. “Woah, Canon, relax. He was just joking—…” Kai glances at Ren, who’s still holding his cheek and biting down on his lip, and then his gaze hardens. “Y’know what? It’s about fucking time you get this wake-up call, y/n. I’ve been trying to do the nice thing to steer you in the right direction, and the least you could—”

“Steer me in the right fucking direction?!” you’re yelling now, registering the way your voice echoes in the bar. “You know what I think this is all about, Kai?” You grit your teeth, “You’re a sick, stupid, sexist fuck who didn’t have the balls to go after what he wanted. So miserably pathetic that you’ve got no other fucking business than to pull people down to your level.”

Kai pinches his eyebrows together, hand on the table clenching into a fist. 

You lean down closer, an exasperated scoff leaving your lips. “Why don’t you go be his assistant instead? Since I’m sure you’re good at taking it up the ass.”

Kai’s eyes twitch, “you fucking—”

You grab his glass off the table and throw the alcohol into his face, eliciting another round of noises around the bar, and his mouth falls agape in shock before he gets up out of his chair, hand reaching out to grab for you. You close your eyes shut with a flinch to expect pain. Any sort of pain. But you don’t feel anything at all.

When you open your eyes, you see Gojo standing to your left, veins of his arm tense with the tight grip he has on Kai’s forearm, and you can see he’s practically shaking with rage. He steps in front of you, guarding, and you can’t see the expression on his face, but the fear in Kai’s eyes is enough to say it all.

“That’s enough,” he says, the clench of his jaw evident through the strain in his voice, “try to put your hands on her again, and I’ll split your fucking face in half.”

You can see Kai’s breathing pick up from where you’re peering over Gojo’s shoulder, and then Gojo shoves him backwards right as Choso kicks the fallen chair to his feet so he trips over it backwards then hits the ground with a loud and indignant thud.

Gojo’s hovering over Kai, his hands shoved in his pockets as he glares down at him, while Geto and Nanami put space between you and the other two men at your table. You feel a searing flush to your cheeks. You’re breathing fast, the peering eyes all around you are scrutinizing, looking at you with surprise, confusion, shock, and pity. Your mind is racing, and you wonder what your parents would think of all this. What your friends would think of all of this. What the people who support you would think of the fucked up situation you’ve found yourself in, and the humiliation courses so deep through your veins that you just want to run away and hide. The ground could swallow you whole right now, and it still wouldn’t be enough.

You take one step back, then another, before you turn on your heel to rush out the door into the night, and you barely register that it’s raining. You can feel your heart thumping fast in your chest and in your head, that familiar knot in your throat twisting tight as you walk fast down the street and ignore Gojo’s call of your name from behind you.

You don’t want to see anyone right now. You don’t want to be seen by anyone right now. Especially Gojo, of all people, because he was right about everything, and the fact that you had shut him down about it, and the way that you had shut him down about it makes your head numb and your breathing pick up fast.

“y/n,” you hear him call out from behind you, his pace is getting faster and so you’re resorting to longer strides as well, puddles of water splashing under your feet with every step, “just wait—”

“I’m seriously,” you start, and the tears begin to fall, “I’m seriously so, so, so, so, so fucking embarassed right now,” you gasp out the words with no air left in your lungs to breathe as you continue to run away from him, “so please, just leave me alone.”

You can picture it all in your head. Something like I told you so from his lips, because after what you’ve been put through tonight, you just want to assume the worst in people.

But just as you round the corner into an alley, feeling lost with the sight of a dead end, you feel a hand wrap around your arm and then you’re being pulled into an embrace.

Your eyes are blinking with tears streaming, your face buried in a chest that is warm, with a heart beating so fast that it’s keeping time with your own, and the fragrance that surrounds you is so painfully him that it makes you sob even more.

Strong arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, and Gojo rests his chin at the top of your head. “I’m sorry,” he says softly, and you can feel the rumble of his voice, “I just needed to stop you from running.”

Your arms are weakly raised, an outline over his torso but not yet grabbing on, until you hesitantly do. And when you hold onto him, it’s so tight and strong, and you realize that after everything between the two of you, it’s the first time you’ve been wrapped in his arms.

“I feel so stupid,” you start, already hating the words because you want to be stronger right now, but you can’t.

“You’re not stupid,” he quickly corrects you, “those guys are fucking insecure losers. You’re just trying your best. You always have, for as long as I’ve known you, and it’s something you should be proud of yourself for.”

You don’t know what to say to him, you just cling to the damp fabric of his shirt in the rain.  

“Things are going to work out for you, no matter what, because I know you’ve got what it takes and you’re willing to work hard for it,” he says, his chin nuzzling so you’re tucked into him even further, “and if things don’t work out, that’s okay, you’re strong and you’ll always get back up. And I want to be there to help you through everything.”

You pull your face from his chest to stare up at him, droplets of rain falling to your face and making you flinch occasionally. “I’m confused.”

His hand comes up to cup your face, swiping at a tear on your cheek, or maybe it was rain. “I thought that—” he starts, his thumb briefly running over the small cut still healing on your cheek, his brow furrowing, “I thought that I’d be okay with watching your life from afar, through cropped pictures on a screen,” he says, a chill running through you, “but I can’t. It’s killing me. And I’m really sorry that it took me this long to tell you this, but I like you so much and I really want to be with you.”

Your eyes widen at his words, and you don’t know how to feel. You push your face into his chest again. His thumb runs circles at your side through the dampness of your shirt.

“There are a lot of reasons I didn’t feel like I could date you, or show up for you,” he says, “but the pain of not getting to be with you, of not getting to hold you, and just share my life with you is way worse than whatever reasons I kept trying to convince myself of.”

You nod slowly, because there was a part of you deep inside that knew that all along. 

His grip on you relaxes slightly and you take that as a request from him for you to look up at him, so you do. “I know I’ve put you through a lot of pain, and I’m really not a perfect person, but if there’s room in your heart to forgive me, I promise you that I’ll do everything I can to make you feel happy and cared for.”

Your eyes study his face for sincerity. They’re words you’ve been wanting to hear, words you could’ve pictured in your head, but the adoration in his eyes makes you realize you never could’ve imagined the true sweetness of those words when they’re said from him.

You press your cheek to his chest again. You’re not crying anymore. “I’m sorry for what I said to you earlier. About kicking a soccer ball, and having it easy,” you bite down on your lip, because now there’s tears in your eyes again, “I didn’t mean it.” You sniffle a little, “I know you work hard. And it was a really mean thing to say.”

He sighs, holding you flush to himself. His cheek presses against the top of your head. “That’s okay, you don’t have to apologize for that.”

“But I do.”

There was no grudge at all. There was nothing withdrawn from you, nothing taken away as punishment. He just held onto you, exactly as you are, and you felt so safe in every second you spent in his arms.

You look up at him again. His hair is damp, strands clinging to his face in all the places they usually fall over, droplets of rain falling from his fringe onto your face and he does everything he can to wipe them away. “It’s too late,” you tell him, and he immediately knows what you’re referring to.

He just holds you closer. “I know.”

“I don’t have feelings for you anymore,” you say through a sniffle.

He knows you’re lying, and that you say it just out of spite, but he holds your head to his chest. “I know.”

“You’ll have to beg and grovel, and even then, I might not like you ever again,” you say, gripping so tightly onto his shirt for purchase, your voice sounding muffled as you breathe in the scent of him. “That’s your punishment.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head. A firm press of his lips, lasting as he takes a few deep breaths. And then he kisses the same spot again, staying still in that position as he repeats himself.

“I know.”

--

a/n. phewww thank you for reading, i swear, this chapter felt like a goddamn war to write. my emotions were all over the damn place, i think cause i wrote from a place of bitter experience lol. i dedicate this chap to my lovely friend she’s a film major (she inspired me to create this story) and i srs wouldn’t be able to write kickoff without her 😭💕 dear M♥︎, i thought of you sm while writing this chapter, i can only hope i’ve captured even the slightest bit of the understanding i will always aim to have of you, and that you feel seen. i’m incredibly proud of you, always rooting for you, so often thinking of you, and terribly missing you so much rn (plsssssss visit meee😩💔 ) dedicated w sm love 💕 -bitchasshoe this chapter is also dedicated to anyone who’s going through a hard times n maybe just trying to figure themselves out :”) i am so proud of you, you should be so proud of yourself, there’s still so much to live and learn, and i hope the universe blesses you w everything you’ve ever wanted!! big thank u to my lovely m00t @quinnyundertow she pulled me out of my writers block for this chapter and also beta read a lot of it for me there’s only three chapters left for kickoff (i’m gonna cry just thinking ab it :”)) which doesnt sound like a lot but there’s still a lot i’ve got planned 😭 i’m just noticing that i very poorly planned the second half of this series. chapters 1-6 combined have less words than chapters 7-9 combined 😅✨ sooooo i may increase the chapters from 12 to 14 by splitting them up to make it easier on me, or just stick to the plan and come out with long chapters like the last two. idk. i’ll figure it out. thank u to everyone for reading i love you all dearly 😭💕 i’ll see you in the next one!!

➸ take me to chapter ten!

➸ wrote some kickoff headcanons here

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taglist: @who-can-touch-my-boob @therealestpussyeater @lost-resonance @hojoslutoru @foulprincesscycle @luniunia @alekssashka7 @bsdicinindirdim @tsukikourito @getitsatoru @slut-4-gojo @cactisjuice @kissofife @tiredflame132 @cliosunshine @ethereally-lyann @btszn @prince-wyiilder @semra4 @gojosimp26 @drthymby @ninitoru @bbyxxm @fvsm4x @sadmonke @zoinks1010 @bakuhoethotski @horisdope @sykostyles @aquaberrydolphin @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @ri-sa20 @purplehallow11 @mwtsxri @ritsatoru @bxddiebloss @chwesuh-imnida @mo0nforme @viware @still-fking-single @megumisthirdog @gintokhi @karvokr @cierocanteat @imjustaweirdnerd @ronniebird @bloopsstuff @mwtsxri @witchbybirth @tetsuski @fffinskye @gh0ulkz @beabadobeee @mandysfanfics @erencvlt @laviefantasie @sukunamylovexoxo @girlkissersco @itzjuliana @yell0wdreams @1dimas7 @strayedjeno @mo0nforme @yungbloode @sullybrothersmate @oaooaoaoaoa @swagangelllamawolf @banenemilk @inniesblog

(hope i didn't miss anyone thank u all sm!!)

[jinxs-gf]

Can I? (kiss the hurt away)

YJ!Conner Kent x Spider!Reader

summary: you get hurt during a mission and Conner just wants to help. this finally brings you two together.

content/warnings: set in s1, lots of wounds, blood mentioned, awkward flirting…this was a shared prompt w my two besties, here’s my version! (I switched it up a bit), funny writing bc it’s from spider!reader’s perspective (mostly)

word count: 2.1k

a/n: FIRST CONNER FIC YAYAYYAYAYAY I hope people actually read for him lmaooo…enjoy!

There's a ringing in your ear for a while, your vision blurred. Just as you come out of it there's a voice—

"You okay?"

One you're very familiar with.

You slowly blink your eyes open. You're not sure what the hell your enemy just blasted you with, but it was enough to knock you out and make everything hurt. A lot.

"Uhh I think so?" Conner watched the white eyes of your mask blink, he could tell you were in fact, not okay.

He could see it from a distance, the distance he unknowingly made while fighting. He promised himself he'd stay close at all times when the team was in danger, when you could potentially get hurt. And look at you now. His ignorance to what was going on around him got you hurt.

At least that's what he told himself.

You swat his hands as he starts fussing over you, too disoriented to think about the action. Until you see his hurt face. He was only trying to help.

But Conner thinks, you were pushing him away, and rightfully so when he's the reason you're hurt in the first place.

"No no it's-" you heave a rugged sigh, your lungs feeling heavy. "I'm just out of it. Sorry. What was that guy packing in his gun anyways?"

Conner's reluctant in his assistance to you now, but you encourage him with a smile. He lifts you to your feet, securing an arm around your waist to ensure you wouldn't fall back down. You definitely weren't in a state to be walking and that's proven when your legs wobble and all your weight falls onto him. Something he doesn't mind and in a different situation would smile at.

But you hiss as his pulls you up, and he's brought back to reality.

"Thanks Con-man." Another smile for him and his shoulders relax.

"I have no idea what that man was packing in his gun. All I know is it hurt you...really badly. You were out the rest of the fight."

"I was?" A quick look around and sure enough, you were. The quietness of the area should've been a clear sign there was no longer a battle going on.

"Looks like I was." And suddenly the team is behind you. It's a miracle the rest of them avoided getting hurt the way you did (which was a little embarrassing considering your spider senses).

"You alright, Spidey?" Wally and Artemis ask at the same time, they glare at each other for it.

"Jinx. Artemis, you owe me a soda."

"I do not-" you cut them off, ending the argument before it could start.

"Yeah I'm alright." But the way you leaned heavily onto the SuperBoy and breathed unevenly told a different story. Although that was nothing new, was it? You somehow were constantly hanging off the boy one way or another (not literally...though you wish it was).

"Are you sure? We'll have you get checked back at headquarters," Kaldur speaks. You simply nod, too weak to really do much else.

Robin was looking worriedly, trying to hide it but you could see right through him. You shot him a smile.

While the team discussed what to do with the bad guy, you stayed with Conner. There was an awkward silence until he spoke up, having enough of your small hisses and puffs at his side.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't know, everything? I'm hurting everywhere," you were practically mumbling, fatigue evident with every word you spoke.

He huffs and places you on the floor again, carefully avoiding any rubble from the fight. Another pained hiss from you.

"Sorry sorry, I know," he's trying to figure out his next move. "I don't know how to make it better."

You shake your head, "that's alright Conner. You don't need to, you're not a doctor or anything."

And yet he looks guilty, like your wounds and the fact that he hasn't already done something to ease the pain was his fault. He eyed the arm you've been holding around your abdomen this whole time.

"You being here right now is enough. I promise. And this," you lift your arm finally, making a soft noise of pain in between, "it'll go down by tomorrow-"

"Shit! When did that happen?" His voice startles you, the sudden noise rattling your probably concussed brain. You finally look down to see blood dripping from a scratch in your suit.

"Shit. When did that happen? How..."

"I didn't realize it was that bad. I'm sorry."

"No Conner, it's okay-"

"Can I?"

"Huh?" And Conner is gesturing to your mask, your eyes widen.

"You're breathing too heavily for it to be comfortable. Please?" He wouldn't say part of it was because he needed to see your face to comfort him.

You nod.

He doesn't freak out when he takes it off, so that's a good sign.

"How do I look?" he doesn't answer for a few seconds, he's carefully observing your face it seems. You can't help but smile.

And he smiles back, "still beautiful as ever."

"Okay lover boy," you desperately wish the mask was on, if only to hide your timid expression. "You don't need to flatter me."

Conner clears his throat quickly, awkwardly. As if he didn't realize he said it out loud.

He really didn't mean to. But seeing how shy and...dare he say happy you looked after he said it, he thinks it wasn't such a bad thing.

"You have a few scratches. But you're still-"

"Beautiful as ever, yeah yeah I heard you," maybe he wasn't going to say it again, but you weren't going to risk it. You don't think you could take it if he said it. You'd probably do something stupid like kiss him—

He swallows thickly, still embarrassed. "We need to get you back," he goes to pick you up, only this time it's not so you can stand upright. No. He's preparing to carry you bridal style. Oh no. Now you really might kiss him (that is if you don't pass out within the next few seconds). "Can I carry you? I don't think you're in good enough shape to walk right now."

"Rude."

"No I didn't mean-"

You laugh, maybe a little meanly, you knew he wasn't good on certain social cues yet, making teasing him easy, "sorry- I know what you mean. Yeah it's...alright. You can totally carry me." Now you were beginning to feel awkward.

He picks you up easily. And you're starting to agree with him, you definitely weren't in any shape to walk if him lifting you was enough to make you dizzy.

You weren't kidding yourself when you said you'd pass out before you could kiss him.

Your head lays comfortably on his chest...right over his heart which happened to be beating like crazy.

Was that your doing? You really hope so.

He carries you a little behind the rest of the team, murmuring reassurances and praise. 'You did good back there.' 'You're gonna be okay, I'll make sure of it.' 'Stay close to me okay? I'll make it better.'

Bioship took you all back to Mount Justice, M'gann talking your ear off the whole time. Starting with worried rambles about how hurt you looked and fading into a new tv show she got into. One she wished her people on Mars could enjoy.

Usually you wouldn't mind it, but you could feel an oncoming headache the whole ride. You didn't have the heart to tell her to stop nor that you weren't really listening. Not feeling bad only because Wally seemed enthralled with her storytelling (suck up) and flirted here and there.

You were too busy focusing on your shadow anyways. Aka the SuperBoy who refused to leave your side and was quite literally on you the whole way. Between him, M'gann, and Wally's flirting with her (and Robin's occasional butting in to tease) you were surprised you didn't go insane on the ride back.

When you did get back, they told you it was bad (fatal for a normal person) but nothing you couldn't handle. Just a broken rib (unfortunately common for you) and a slight concussion. Great. Accompanied with bruises and the big gash on your abdomen. That weapon really did a number on you. Conner went off on the adults for saying it was "nothing you couldn't handle" because you were "on the brink of dying". Which is a bit dramatic, but having him be so protective over you was kind of nice...or whatever.

They suggested you took a break for a week and a half (a conclusion you came to after you'd negotiated with them for a good 5 minutes. because who do they think they were benching you—for good reason—for 2 weeks?!) should a mission come up within that time.

You sighed on the couch, everyone was either in their rooms or went home for the day. They said their goodbyes and wished you well, to which you replied 'pfft I'll be better by tomorrow. just watch.' It would be really embarrassing if you weren't better by tomorrow...you unfortunately bet money on it. Stupid.

"You okay?"

"A little better now. Thanks for taking care of me."

"I wish I could've done more...I said I would but all I did was sit back and watch everyone else take care of you." This was clearly eating at him, although it's a wonder why.

Nothing about the situation was his fault nor should he feel guilty about "not doing enough."

"Conner, I told you it's alright and that you being there for me was enough. And I meant every word."

He sits with you, thigh to thigh with his head in his hands.

You pat his shoulder, "it's alright big guy. I'm okay, I'll be fully recovered soon."

"Not soon enough."

You sigh, he could be really stubborn sometimes. Frustratingly so.

"Con, please. Look at me?" He listens. And you regret asking him. You hate the look in his eyes, or rather you hate the way it makes you feel. Another case of you're going to kiss him if he keeps this up.

How could such a big, stubborn, and (apparently) non-affectionate guy have the biggest puppy eyes? Ones that have you melting.

His face is now in your palms. With the way he's looking at you, surely he wouldn't mind if you gave in and...kissed him, right?

"Can I kiss you?"

He's stunned for a moment before finally speaking up, "isn't it obvious that I want you to?"

You both share shy smiles thinking, finally.

You lean in, hands still cupping his face, his now doing the same.

Although the kiss was a little awkward, the two of you not exactly experienced in that department (him coming out of a literal tube only months ago), as well as a little...messy—it was everything you could've wanted in your first kiss with him. A kiss that was going to be the start of the two of you. SuperBoy and the Spider. You hated how warm the thought made you.

You were practically radiating giddiness, Conner could feel it. He pulled away still smiling, "I've wanted to do that for a really long time now."

"Me too. You know what also was great about that? You kissed my ouchies away. I'm all better now."

"Ouchies? What are we, five?"

There's silence, not of awkwardness, but from two of you reeling from the kiss, processing the fact that it was real.

"I don't want to be the one to break this up but...we should really get to bed. With your concussion and training being early tomorrow..."

"Yeah, of course," the giddiness hasn't left, "would you uh...want to come? With me? To bed."

"Gee Spider, at least take me to dinner first."

"Oh, so he's got jokes now?"

"Only for you, babe."

"Ew, you sound like Wally."

"Ouch? Don't insult me like that," but he doesn't look offended in the slightest. There's probably the biggest smile you've seen on his face, ever.

Safe to say it was not fun explaining why Conner was in your bed the next morning, trying to convince everyone it was purely innocent.

Batman was disappointed, reminding you that you needed to wait until you were healed before you did anything physical. Haha. Very funny.

And the team snapped pictures that they would definitely use against Conner (seeing as he was the more...emotionally constipated and reluctantly affectionate one).

But you honestly couldn't be happier. And neither could he.

does it seem a bit rushed at the end? unfortunately

do I have the patience to fix it? no

hope you enjoyed :D

[kiiwiola]

◟ DOG ATTACK

──────── What was meant to be a quiet walk in the park turns into an unexpected meet-cute when Y/N gets knocked to the ground by a dog with too much enthusiasm and not enough brakes. As Cooper the dog plants himself in Y/N’s lap like he’s found his soulmate, sparks start flying between the two girls. 711 WC

❪ CONTAINS ❫ Excessive fluff, Minor physical contact (dog tackle, hand-holding), Very soft flirting, very short

Idk I just came up with this 😭 planning on releasing a long fic and remaking some of my smau’s starting with a cup of your heart, will try to do all the profiles and contacts as soon as possible!!

You weren’t even supposed to be at the park today.

Your whole afternoon plan revolved around iced coffee, noise-canceling earbuds, and absolutely no human interaction. But life or fate, or maybe just karma after you ignored your mom’s call this morning had other ideas.

Because one second, you're walking peacefully along the trail, and the next—

”OH MY GOD—"

A Thud. You’re on the ground. Flat. Dazed. With something warm, heavy, and extremely enthusiastic sitting on your chest.

An Italian greyhound is panting happily over you, tail wagging like a metronome on caffeine, tongue halfway to licking your entire face. You barely manage to sit up when the dog lets out a joyous bark and throws a paw onto your lap.

“Well,” you mutter, blinking. “This is how I die.”

“Cooper, no!” a voice yells in the distance.

You blink again.

Cooper?

Footsteps thud against the gravel, quick and light. And then she appears, slightly out of breath, hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, cheeks flushed from running.

And holy hell, she’s beautiful.

“I'm so sorry, he’s still learning not to treat people like bowling pins..are you okay?”

You nod, though you’re definitely still processing her existence more than her words.

She crouches beside you, placing a hand gently on your arm. Her fingers are warm.

“You sure?” she asks again, brow furrowed with genuine concern.

“Yeah,” you say, exhaling. “Just slightly emotionally betrayed by gravity. And Cooper.”

At that, she laughs, a soft, breathy sound that makes your chest flutter. “You’re funny. Most people just cry or yell.”

You glance down at the dog, still happily sprawled in your lap like he’s chosen you as his new mom. “He’s forgiven. He has soft ears.”

“Right? He uses them to get away with everything.”

You both watch him for a second. Then she adds, “I’m Giselle, by the way. Or Gigi..if you’re not mad about the whole being-tackled part.”

You shake your head, smiling up at her. “Y/N. Not mad. I’ve been tackled worse.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Oh? Professional athlete or chaotic energy magnet?”

You smirk. “The second one. Definitely.”

Giselle grins back, and the air between you lightens like it’s suddenly full of summer and possibilities.

“Well, Y/N the chaotic energy magnet, I owe you a coffee or a cookie or something for the unprovoked dog attack.”

You’re still sitting on the ground Coopet clearly has no intention of letting you go and Giselle’s standing now, offering you a hand to help you up. You reach out and take it, and there’s a pleasant jolt when your fingers meet.

She pulls you to your feet easily, and you stumble slightly, bumping into her shoulder. She's a little taller up close not towering, but just enough to feel it and the way she steadies you with a light hand on your elbow sends your heart into a full gymnastics routine.

“…Sorry,” you say quickly, cheeks warming. “Not used to being vertical after being flattened by joy.”

“That’s fair,” Giselle says, and you can’t tell if she’s trying not to laugh or if she’s just genuinely amused by you. Either way, she’s still holding your hand.

Neither of you lets go.

Cooper lets out a low woof like he's approving of this entire situation.

“Okay, but,” she says, biting back a grin. “If my dog already loves you this much, I feel like I should at least get your number. You know… to supervise future cuddles.”

You blink. Then smile.

“Supervise, huh?”

Giselle shrugs, playfully smug. “Strict protocols. Safety first.”

“Well then,” you say, tugging your phone from your pocket, “better make it official.”

She beams as you hand it to her, and something about the way she types her number in confidently, without hesitation makes your heart race in a really annoying, exciting way.

“I promise,” she says, handing your phone back, “next time we meet, I’ll let you stay upright.”

“No promises,” you say, smiling. “I might let Cooper tackle me again just to see you run like that.”

She laughs again bright and unguarded and you think, maybe it was a good thing you came to the park after all.

Especially if fate throws her at you next time instead of the dog.

[hischiershoe]

for your blurb night, the world needs you to write cozy quinn and his hoodies for the prompt “sharing each other's clothes (especially hoodies)”

thank you for your service, abby 🥹🫶🏼

no warnings needed. just fluffy bf!quinn

You and Quinn hadn't been dating for very long, still very much in the early and shy stages of your relationship. You still got bashful anytime he'd compliment you or hold your hand, and he'd still get flushed whenever you kissed him first or ran your hand through his hair. Everything with Quinn was new and it was exciting, but staying at his apartment for the first time made you just as nervous, if not more, as your first date did.

You knew Quinn liked to keep his apartment on the colder side, but you didn't think it was going to be this cold. The t-shirt and shorts you had packed weren’t doing much to keep you warm, and even under the blanket and tucked against his side, you felt yourself start to shiver after a while. You tried to keep it subtle enough that Quinn didn't notice, but you failed miserably.

"Hey," He softly calls out your name, tightening his grip on your waist, "Are you cold?"

"No, I'm okay," You deny, though the goosebumps littering your arms and legs gave you away.

"Liar," He airily chuckles as he shifts underneath you, "C'mon, let's go get you some warmer clothes."

Quinn stands before you, grasping your hand in his own as he carefully yanks you off the couch and down the hallway to his room. Fortunately, you were still wearing socks so your feet were protected from the cool floor beneath you. He briefly stops at the thermostat on the wall, bumping it up a few degrees despite your protest that you were fine, before he steps into his room.

“You can grab whatever hoodie from the closet,” He softly suggests, though it was more instructive than anything, “I’m going to find some sweats for you.”

You mumble a quiet sound of acknowledgment as you pad towards his closet, pulling the doors open to reveal his copious amounts of hoodies and t-shirts. Eventually, you settle on an oversized grey hoodie and you pull it off the hanger. As you're pulling it over your head, you could hear him mumbling to himself as he sifted through his drawer, and you couldn't help but let out a quiet giggle.

"What's so funny," He calls out, suddenly much closer to you than he was before.

You peek over your shoulder to see him standing right behind you, loose strands of hair falling in his face as he gives you a smug look. His eyes are darting from your eyes, to your nose, to your lips, and it was making you forget that your mouth had the ability to form words.

"Nothing," You breathily let out, keeping your eyes trained on his face, "Just wondering who you were talkin' to over there."

"Okay," He drawls, playfully rolling his eyes before he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you into his chest, "I was mumbling about my sweats. Wondering which ones you'd like the best."

Your heart was drumming in your chest when his fingers absentmindedly slipped under the material of your shirt, rubbing soothing circles against the skin as you relax in his hold, "Are you sure? I know there's a silly little joke that you can see ghosts, but maybe it's true."

"Maybe I do," He hums, nestling his chin on your shoulder, "Someone has to keep me company when you're not here."

"That's why we have cellphones," You tease, letting your head gently fall against his own.

"Fair enough. Let me grab the pants so you can get all warmed up," He presses a quick kiss to your cheek before retreating back to his dresser.

He hands you a pair of black sweats with a 'Drew' logo on them, and you hastily slip them on, a faint sigh of relief passing through your lips. Quinn can't help but admire the way you look in his clothes, in some of his favorite clothes. While they might've been a bit too big on you, you still looked perfect to him because you were his girl, and that was more than he could've ever dreamed of.

When the two of you were back in his living room, he was quick to settle back on the couch with you between his legs and his arms wound tightly around your body. Though he could barely pay attention to the movie as his gaze kept drifting to you. He'd never been as content as he was now. With you wrapped up in his hoodie and falling asleep against his chest, he realized he was already in deep with you and he had no intention of going back.

[ebodebo]

—thinking about jason todd being a smug bastard... MDNI

Wayne Manor was swarmed with people. 

Once again, your parents had insisted on attending one of Bruce's charity galas, dragging you along.

You couldn't help but feel like an outsider in this world of opulence and pretense.

It was fun to dress up with thousand-dollar dresses and jewels, but, Christ, the air was thick with the scent of expensive perfumes and the sound of clinking glasses, making it stuffy even in the corner of the room where you stood.

They were nothing more than a group of pretentious assholes parading around and gloating about their wealth.

The very sight of them filled you with a profound sense of disdain for the whole event, a feeling that seemed to grow with each passing moment. 

You just thanked God Bruce always provided good booze.

"Cute dress," a deep voice sounded next to you.

You know immediately who it is.

"Was gonna wear red, but I didn't want you to get all jealous, Jason," you jest, your tone oozing with sarcasm.

"Is that right?" He smirked, handing you a glass of champagne. 

"Yeah. So I settled for blue," you shrugged, grasping the champagne.

"I think red suits you better," he hummed, sipping the alcohol. 

"I bet you do, Toddy," you chirp, eyes leering over the glass as you sip.

"You think you're so funny," he mutters, referring to the silly nickname you call him to his dismay. 

"I think I'm pretty hilarious," you smile, clearly amused with yourself.

"I can tell," he jibbed, taking another swig of the alcohol, eye peering over the rim to lock with yours.

You open your mouth to speak but are interrupted by a refined, high-pitched tone dripping with an air of superiority calling out for Jason in the dimly lit, crowded room. 

"Jay," a blonde girl quipped, making no effort to greet you, only batting her lashes at him. "I wasn't expecting you to be here."

"Well, you know..." He trails off before mustering a fake smile. "Duty calls."

She lets out a horrendous giggle that has you laughing at the sheer absurdity before her eyes lock on you.

"And...you are?" Her tone is almost revolted, adding to the tension in the air. 

Just take the high road, you think to yourself. 

"I'm a friend," you plaster a ricus smile.

She purses her lips, her eyes betraying a mix of jealousy and curiosity as they dart between you and Jason.

You'll play nice tonight, sure. 

"Don't worry. I have a date of my own," you lightly smile, internally cringing, torn between maintaining your composure and the urge to flee.

"You do?" Jason asks with utter perplexity.

No.

"Yeah," you breathe out.

His eyes squint, you gulp.

"Well...where's the lucky guy?" Blondie poses, her arms crossing over her chest, her condescension palpable in her tone. 

Your eyes quickly scan the room before you hear a familiar voice walking behind you.

"There you are!" You beam, turning around, reaching for poor Dick's wrist, and pulling him next to you. 

"Dick?" She questions, her curiosity piqued.

"Dick?" Jason questions, his tone dripping with disgust.

"Not happy to see me?" Dick teases as you casually thread your arm through his.

You don't miss the way Jason's whole body tenses. 

"How...charming," Blondie quips hesitantly before she threads her arm through Jason's.

Jason doesn't miss how your whole body tenses, issuing a smug smirk at your bewilderment. 

Oh? He wanted to play dirty.

Well, two can play that game. 

"Isn't he just a charmer?" You chirp, your tone laced with unnoticed faulty admiration. "Dick's just so sweet. He just...swept me off my feet," you say, fighting back a cringe, but the sight of Blondie's scowl and Jason's stiff posture makes it all worth it. 

Dick shifts his eyes down to yours; you give him a quick wink, and he nods lightly, pulling you closer to his side.

He would do just about anything to get under Jason's skin. 

"She flatters me," Dick beams. "She's the real charmer."

You smile brightly, your eyes moving between Blondie's perplexed eyes and Jason's narrowed ones.

"Didn't think you two talked," Jason grumbled, his tone simultaneously skeptical and sour, his eyes never leaving Dick's face. 

"Yeah, I can't believe we haven't talked sooner." You smiled, your gaze shifting from Dick's bright eyes to Jason, noticing his knuckles turning white around his champagne glass. 

Got him.

"I can't believe I let you keep her to yourself, Jason. She's a great conversationalist," Dick chimes with a slight smirk at Jason's irritation.

Oh. Dick is having way too much fun. 

"I'm aware," Jason continently says, taking a sip of his alcohol. 

"Even better baker—what is it you made me the other day?" Dick questions, turning slightly to face you. 

Your eyes widen in surprise at his improvisation skills, your brain slightly scrambling before you find the words. 

Hell, if the whole superhero thing didn't work out, he could make a killing as an actor.

"Brownies," you spout after a moment.

"You made this idiot brownies?" Jasom suspires, clearly vexed. 

"I did," you smile, inwardly enjoying his apparent displeasure. 

Jason moves to speak but is quickly interrupted by Blondie.

"I'll have to have some shortbread cookies made for you, Jason," she says, smugness oozing as she pulls him closer to her side. 

Right like he would ever eat—

"I love shortbread," Jason says with a wide grin.

"You hate shortbread. You've always hated shortbread," you sputter out without much forethought. 

"Maybe I like them now," Jason shrugs, a sly smirk growing.

Your eyes narrow slightly before they widen a little in remembrance. "Oh, Dick," you tug on his arm to catch his attention. "I almost forgot you left your jacket at my apartment the other day," you prompt.

"Why was he at your apartment?" Jason instantly says, eyes staring daggers into Dick's.

"Just hanging out," Dick answers plainly, his lips quipping only slightly.

"Well, you two sure seem...close," Bondie quips, sipping champagne. 

"Yeah," Jason mutters through gritted teeth. "They do."

As you sip, your eyes leer over Jason's face over your glass of champagne.

His jaw is slightly clenched, and his eyes are narrowed.

Jason Todd, jealous?

What a sight.

"Speaking of apartments," Blondie breaks the silence, turning her head towards Jason. "Daddy just bought me a new one in SoHo. You should stop by," she says before she follows with a wink.

"Oh?" Jason hums lowly, clearly still a little irritated.

You let out a low scoff. "SoHo's kind of a detour, no?"

"It's not too far from here," Blondie says, somewhat defensively. "Plus, I wouldn't mind a long car ride with you," she brings her manicured finger up to run seductively across the pocket of Jason's tailored suit.

You tasted a slight coppery taste, only then realizing you had bit down so hard on your cheek you had drawn blood.

"If you two wanted to head out now, we wouldn't blame you," Dick remarks.

You whip your head around to face his, mouth agape in surprise.

"Would give us a chance to leave, too," Dick finishes, sending a wink your way.

"Together?" Jason poses, tilting his head to the side. 

"Of course," Dick says cooly. 

As you look back at Jason, a tiny flicker of amusement glints in your eyes. 

You can see the gears in his brain turning.

"That's a great idea, Dick," Blondie chimes. "Let's get a head start."

You breathed a shallow breath before swallowing hard, looking Jason straight in the eye.

"Jason," you murmur, voice almost pleading.

"Yeah," he simply says, barreling his way over to you and grabbing your forearm.

"Where are you two going?" Dick asks, a shit-eating grin growing on his face.

"Move, Dick," you say with much more venom than intended.

"Move it, Grayson," Jason spits simultaneously, pushing past his brother.

His arm is tight around your forearm, guiding you out of the room. 

Dick throws his arms up in defeat. "What the hell did I do?"

"Where are they going?" Blondie asks, noticeably irked. 

Dick turns to look at her, pursing his lips slightly, and sighs. 

"Just—do you wanna dance?" He begrudgingly extends his hand.

Blondie perks up almost immediately, grasping his hand and pulling him toward the dance floor.

"She's so gonna owe me," Dick mutters, referring to you, as he is being dragged to the dance floor.

Meanwhile, Jason had led you down a hallway into a nearby broom closet and locked the door behind him. 

"You know, my parents don't think you're a good influence," you say casually as Jason's lips graze your neck. 

"Is that so?" He murmurs against your skin while your fingers thread through his slicked-back hair, holding him in place.

You toy with your bottom lip between your teeth, nodding along. 

The feeling of his hot mouth on such a sensitive area feels tantalizing. 

"They think you're a very bad boy, Jason," you tease before whining as his hand wanders to fondle your ass over your dress. 

You feel him laugh against your skin as his hand skims up your back to grasp for your zipper, pulling it down. 

"What do they think I'm gonna do?" He asks, slipping the front of your dress down as you reach for his tie, pulling him to your lips.

"Make me a bad girl," you murmur against his skin. 

His lips quip in amusement before he pulls back and quickly slips his tie off. "You already are a bad girl, Baby."

You let out a small laugh as you reach out to pull his suit jacket off, fingers fumbling with the buttons on his white collared shirt underneath, before bringing your hand to rest over your heart dramatically. "Me? No. Never!"

He lets out a low laugh that has your stomach in knots as he slips off the collared shirt. 

"Don't think I didn't notice that little game you were playing," he mutters, slipping your dress down to the pool around your ankles.

"You're a little shit starter."

"I was simply evening my odds," you simply say, stepping over your dress and using your foot to push it to the side as Jason unzips his slacks. 

You tilt your head. "She your little girlfriend or something?"

He tilts his head up, mouth opening in amusement. "Come on. You take me for a cheater?" He simply asks, slipping his slacks off. 

"I take you for a lot of things," you begin, pulling him closer by his wrist to press your lips to his. "But a cheater isn't one of them."

He tips his head in appreciation before hungrily engulfing your lips with his. 

"Don't tell me your parents think Dickie would be better for you?" He murmurs in between breaths. 

Your fingers entangled in his hair yet again, pulling him impossibly closer. "Actually, yeah," you suspire. "Or Roy."

He pulls back slightly. "Harper?" Disgust is apparent in his tone.

"Hell, he's worse than me."

You let out a breathy laugh before it contorts to a breathy moan as Jason's pointer and middle fingers skim over your clothed cunt. 

"Besides, neither of them could tame this greedy pussy," he rumbles, fingers delicately moving, pressing up against your clit. "No one could."

You let out a whimper as his fingers move his ease in and out of you, your underwear adding another layer of stimulation. 

"Well, no one....except me," he dips his head to hover over your ear, lips barely brushing the skin. "Yeah?"

You don't respond.

You were too focused on his fingers moving in you and his warm breath fanning your ear. 

"Say it, Baby," he coos as his pointer and middle fingers tweak your clit. 

"Say I'm the only one who can tame this greedy pussy."

You grip his shoulders tight, shamelessly rocking yourself against his fingers to gain more friction.

Your breathy moans shoot directly into his ear as he quickens his movements. 

"Say it," he commands, low and gravelly. "Or I won't make you come."

"Okay—shit," you stutter, trying so hard to get the words out in between pants. "You're the only—one," you begin through gritted teeth. "Who can, can—tame this," his movements pick up at your cooperation. "Greedy pussy," you whine out, grinding your body down on his fingers. 

"What a good girl you are," he praises before, to your dismay, he pulls his fingers out entirely. Your eyes widen in anger, mouth contorting to reprimand him before he moves to slip his slacks and boxers off entirely, revealing his painfully hard erection.

"I'm gonna make you come, Baby. Don't worry," he assures, voice breathy. "But you're gonna come around me."

You release a shallow breath at his words.

Sure, your orgasm had dissipated when he pulled his fingers out, but, fuck, was it back now. 

He leans his head down to press a deep kiss to your lips before his hands move to grip the back of your thighs, easing you up and pushing you against a side wall. 

Your legs instinctually wrap around his waist as his fingers slip into your panties, pulling them to the side to make room for his cock. 

His eyes flick to yours, raising slightly—you sure?

You give him a quick nod before he slips himself into your slit, which was already so slick—ready for him. 

His head goes back at the contact, gripping your hips tighter to keep you in place.

You rock your hips, muttering a curse as he moves against your aching clit. 

"Was he really your date?" Jason props unexpectantly, moving his hands down to grip your ass as he plows into you much deeper. 

"Wha—Dick?" You exasperate, unsure of why his brother was now a topic. 

"Well, yeah," he breathes. "Unless you have some—some other date I don't know about," he pants through labored breaths. 

"I—why are we talking about this when you're inside me?" Your voice is already hoarse as you scramble to grip his neck tighter.

"Fuck. I like that," he groans before returning to the topic. "Just—tell me. Please," he pleads.

"No, Jason." You're surprised you found enough breath to speak. "I don't even talk to him like that," you say honestly.

A slight grin grows on his lips at the admission as his pace quickens.

"And Blondie?" You spit out.

"Blondie?" A cheeky smirk grows on his lips at the nickname before his face turns serious. "Hardly know her."

You give him a slight nod, clearly satisfied with his answer.

He leans his head down to lay in the crook of your neck, groaning and curling into your skin as he drills into you.

"Shit," you curse, starting to feel the build-up of tension in your lower stomach.

"I know, Baby. I know," He croaks into your neck. "Me too."

It only takes him a couple more thrusts for him to groan and spew curses, and you whine and moan as you both simultaneously come. 

After you both recuperate, he eases himself out of you, hissing, as he places you down gently, even helping you slip your dress back up and zipping it up, pressing a tender kiss to your shoulder blade in the process.

He slips his boxers and slacks back on as you grab his collared shirt and slip it on him, delicately clasping each button. 

You snicker when you ease the zipper to his slacks up as he groans at your touch. 

"You are a bad girl," he jests, slipping his jacket and tie back on.

You let out a breathy laugh as his hands find your waist, pulling you toward him. He presses a sweet kiss to your temple. 

"Also," he begins his voice a low murmur against your skin. "I hate shortbread."  

You smile and rise onto your tiptoes, hovering near his ear. "I know," you whisper before pulling back, your eyes locked onto his.  

"I've always known."

a/n: lmaoo poor dick

reblogs & comments are encouraged!

[nephynes]

tension theory/friction principle bonus chapter 2

set right after the events of friction principle

Jake's pacing again. Back and forth across Heeseung's living room, socked feet on hardwood, hands slicing the air as he pleads his case for the third time in ten minutes. "I'm telling you, bro, it'll be fun. Beach. Booze. You, me, Sunghoon, Y/N—and Chaewon. You haven't met her yet, but she's cool. Funny. Smart. Kinda your type, actually."

Heeseung doesn't look up from the couch, arm draped over his eyes. "My type is women who don't try to sleep with other guys while I'm in the next room, remember?"

Jake winces. "Okay, yeah, that was...rough. But this is a clean slate. Fresh air, a whole new country. Would you be more convinced if I told you Chaewon was hot?"

Heeseung shifts, finally lifting his arm and narrowing his eyes at Jake. "Does your girlfriend know you're out here calling her friend hot?"

Jake pauses for a beat—just long enough to look mildly offended. "She told me to tell you that!"

Heeseung snorts despite himself.

"She said, and I quote, 'Tell Hee that Chaewon is super hot and really sweet and might help him stop being a mopey little bitch.' Her words, not mine."

Heeseung finally sits up, rubbing his face. "You're unbelievable."

"But are you coming?"

Heeseung doesn't answer right away. Jake stands still, watching him closely, then adds quieter, "You deserve a break. From all of it."

There's a pause. Then Heeseung exhales slowly. "Fine. But if this girl's weird or annoying, I'm blaming you."

Jake grins, victorious. "Deal. And hey—she's nothing like Yunjin. I swear."

Heeseung doesn't really know what he expected, stepping off the plane. Not much. Just some sun, maybe some sleep, and a temporary reprieve from the mess he left back home. Jake had pitched it hard—new country, fresh air—but Heeseung's not naive enough to believe in quick fixes anymore.

Still, the ocean air is cleaner than the thoughts that usually haunt him, and your bright smile when you spot him in the villa entryway? He hates how much it helps.

"Hee!" you call, jogging over in a linen dress, wearing sandals already. You look stupidly happy. Carefree. And for once, that doesn't annoy him, not that he really did before. But if Yunjin was annoyed with you then so was he back then?.

You grab his wrist and tug him through the airy room, chattering about bedroom assignments and welcome drinks, and then, too casually, you say, "Chaewon! Come meet Heeseung!"

The girl perched on the edge of the sofa straightens as they approach. She's dressed simple—denim shorts, a white tank top, sunglasses perched in her hair, but there's an ease to her posture, a warmth in her smile that immediately puts him off balance.

"Hi," she says, holding out a hand. "I've heard a lot about you." Heeseung glances at you, suspicious, but you’re already pretending to be preoccupied with the fruit platter. "Hopefully good things," he mutters, shaking her hand.

You shoot him a very obvious thumbs up over her shoulder before disappearing up the stairs with a grin.

Of course.

Heeseung clears his throat and drops onto the armchair beside her. "So...Chaewon, right?"

She nods, biting back a smile.

"I'm guessing Jake threatened you into coming on this trip?"

"Actually," she says, tilting her head, "Y/N bribed me with promises of beach sunset photos, bottomless sangria, and the chance to see you shirtless."

He chokes. Literally.

She laughs and reaches for a slice of melon. "Relax, I'm joking."

He coughs once more for good measure, dragging a hand over his face. "God, you're worse than her."

"Not really," Chaewon says. "I think Sunghoon and Jake bring out a whole different side to her you haven’t even seen."

And somehow, from there, the conversation just works. They talk about everything and nothing. Favorite music, the last book she gave up on, the dumbest argument she's ever had with her brother. She doesn't bring up Yunjin, even though he’s sure she knows about what happened by now. She doesn't tiptoe around him like he's fragile. And when she laughs, it's always with him, never at him.

It's strange.

Heeseung came here with his guard up. He didn't expect to enjoy himself, didn't think he had it in him anymore. But sitting beside this stranger with the soft voice and sharp wit, he starts to think maybe Jake was right. Maybe this trip isn't just a distraction and if he lets it, it could actually be something new.

The fire crackles in front of them, smoke drifting up into the ink-dark sky. Waves crash steadily in the distance, a constant hush beneath the chatter and laughter. The sand is cool under his feet, and there's a cold beer sweating in his hand, half-forgotten because Chaewon just said something that made him laugh so hard his abs hurt.

She's leaned in close, whispering some dumb inside joke they've crafted over the past forty-eight hours, and he can't stop smiling. It's been like this the whole trip—light, easy, better than anything he expected. He glances around the circle of beach chairs and towels, stomach warm from more than the alcohol.

Sunghoon's poking at the fire with a stick, his expression relaxed. You're curled up in Jake's lap nearby, his arms around you and your cheeks flushed from laughing too hard. You catch Heeseung's eye across the flames and beam at him. Jake leans in and says something that makes you both snort, and Heeseung knows that look—you're plotting and sure enough, Jake perks up. "Let's play something."

Sunghoon groans immediately. "Really? We're twenty-two."

You twist around in Jake's arms and grin. "So? Might be fun. We'll keep it chill."

Jake raises his beer. "Drinking game? Truth or dare?”

"God," Heeseung mutters, but he's smiling. He'd complain, but the way Chaewon's eyes sparkle under the firelight when she says "Oooh, I'm in" has him nodding before he can think better of it.

You sit up straighter and point directly at him. "Heeseung. Truth or dare?"

He raises an eyebrow, feigning hesitation.

"Don't be boring," Jake calls from behind you.

Heeseung takes a slow sip of his beer, then shrugs. "Truth."

You lean forward, eyes gleaming. "Do you miss her?" you ask, softer this time.

And everyone goes quiet.

Chaewon glances at him, just barely, but she doesn't move away. Doesn't flinch. Just waits with the rest. Heeseung could lie. Say he doesn't or that he's over it.

But the words stick in his throat, heavy and dry. He looks at you with your knowing expression, the way Jake tightens his arms around your waist, and something about the quiet between everyone makes him answer honestly. "I think I miss who I thought she was," he says. "But I don't miss how I felt with her. Not anymore."

You nod slowly and Chaewon nudges his knee with hers. "Your turn."

He looks at her, really looks, and the tension unwinds in his chest. He's not dreading going back because of what happened.  He's dreading it because this peace, this laughter and warmth feels dangerously close to something he never thought he'd get again.

The circle loosens with his answer, everyone easing back into the comfort of the firelight and their drinks.

He turns toward Sunghoon, who's lounging back on a chair, sipping something strong out of a plastic cup.

"Alright, Sunghoon," Heeseung says, eyes narrowing playfully. "Truth or dare?"

Sunghoon sighs, but there's a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. "Truth."

Heeseung doesn't miss a beat. "When it's the three of you..." He raises his eyebrows meaningfully. "Who do you like starting with? Jake or Y/N?"

You sit up straighter, eyes going wide. "Heeseung!"

Sunghoon just blinks slowly, like he's thinking about it. You can tell he's tipsy, his gaze a little hazy, but still calculating. Then he smiles. "Y/n," he says, looking at you through the fire. "It's fun watching her get all worked up from just a little touch. She’s so easy to unravel."

You let out a soft, stunned laugh, covering your mouth. Jake groans behind you, tossing his head back dramatically. "Oh my god, Hoon."

Sunghoon's grin widens, taking another sip. "It's true. She melts. It's cute."

You give Jake a look over your shoulder, and he grins back at you, whispering something against your temple that makes you squirm in his lap. And from the way his fingers are already creeping along your waist and Sunghoon's looking far too pleased with himself, Heeseung thinks he’s way more interested in this game now.

Sunghoon takes another sip of his drink, eyes glinting with mischief in the firelight. "My turn," he hums, scanning the circle before zeroing in on Chaewon. "You." She stiffens slightly, eyebrows raising as she narrows her eyes. "Me?"

"Truth or dare?"

Chaewon, to her credit, doesn't flinch. She lifts her chin. "Dare."

Sunghoon's grin spreads slow and sharp—more amused than cruel, but clearly dangerous in that 'older brother who stirs the pot just because he can' kind of way. "I dare you," he says, dragging the words out, "to sit in Heeseung's lap for the next round. Until it's your turn again."

Heeseung blinks, caught off guard. "Wait, what—"

"You heard me," Sunghoon shrugs. "I'm just trying to join my boyfriend and girlfriend in their little cupid scheme."

You let out a bark of laughter, covering your mouth. Jake smiles, clearly loving this way too much.

Chaewon turns to Heeseung, and he's suddenly far too still, barely managing to lift his palms like I didn't plan this, I swear.

She pauses for dramatic effect then shrugs once and gets up on her knees, stepping toward him. "I've had worse dares," she says breezily.

And then she's settling herself delicately in his lap, adjusting her weight until she's comfortable, her legs folded neatly across his. Heeseung swallows hard, eyes darting to yours like help. He’s trying desperately not to look at where Chaewon's thigh is pressed flush against his. Her hair brushes his jaw when she turns toward the circle again, totally casual.

"Okay," she says coolly, lifting her drink. "Let's keep it moving."

And for a second, Heeseung looks like he might die, but then she leans back just slightly, her shoulder against his chest, and he exhales.

"My turn," she says, and her gaze cuts straight to you. You raise your brows, already bracing yourself. "Oh no."

She tilts her head innocently. "Truth or dare?"

You hum in thought, swirling the drink in your cup before settling back against Jake's chest. "Truth."

Chaewon's smile widens, she'd clearly hoped for that answer. "Alright," she says, voice light, but her eyes are gleaming with mischief. "Whose dick is bigger—Jake's or Sunghoon's?"

You just gape at her, somewhere between scandalized and impressed. "Oh my god," you wheeze, covering your face for a second before peeking at her through your fingers. "Do you want to see for yourself?"

She gasps in fake offense, then starts laughing all over again. Jake wraps his arms a little tighter around your waist, murmuring, "Answer carefully."

Sunghoon leans forward with a mock-serious expression. "There’s no wrong answer if she’s offering."

You roll your eyes, dramatic and exaggerated. "You guys," you sigh, grinning as you take another sip. "They're basically the same."

"Oh come on," Chaewon protests. "That's such a cop-out."

"No, I'm serious," you insist, nodding solemnly. "They’ve measured."

Jake groans, burying his face in your shoulder, while Sunghoon just grins, shaking his head like he can't even be mad.

It’s your turn now. You shift a little in Jake's lap, turning just enough to face him, a lazy smile curling your lips. His hands tighten around your waist automatically, eyes narrowing like he knows what's coming.

"Truth or dare, Jaeyun?"

He eyes you warily. "Truth."

Heeseung groans. "Oh my god, can someone pick dare?"

You ignore him. Your gaze is locked on Jake, voice syrupy sweet. "Do you prefer me more dominant or submissive?"

Jake immediately sputters, half-coughing into his drink, ears turning a soft pink. "What—" He clears his throat, eyes flickering to Sunghoon who's just watching him with raised brows, unhelpfully amused. "You're really doing this in public?"

You just tilt your head, smile widening. “This is barely public baby.”

Jake drags a hand over his face, but his answer is honest. "Dominant," he admits, low and a little hoarse. "You know that."

"Good boy," you murmur and he groans but now it's his turn. He peeks up and his eyes flick toward Chaewon—still in Heeseung's lap like she belongs there, comfortably sipping her drink, grinning.

"You," Jake says, pointing. "Truth or dare?"

Chaewon raises both brows. "Truth."

He nods like he expected it. "Have you ever kissed a girl?"

"Yes," she replies, no hesitation. "More than once."

You and Jake share a quick, impressed glance, but before Jake can follow up, Sunghoon cuts in, a smug look on his face. "Ever thought about kissing her?" he asks, jerking his chin toward you.

The fire crackles, but it feels too quiet now. Chaewon's still smiling, but it's changed, still sly and amused. She looks you up and down slowly before her gaze settles on your face. "Who hasn't?" she says simply.

You blink and then burst out laughing, cheeks warm. "I'm flattered, really."

Chaewon leans forward again, still in Heeseung's lap like she's completely forgotten she has her own chair and her turn has come again now.

"Sunghoon," she asks, "truth or dare?"

He doesn't even hesitate. "Dare."

She smiles. "Three-way kiss. You, Jake, and her." She looks towards you. Jake laughs, setting his drink down. "You make it sound like that's hard for him."

You smile at Sunghoon already rising from his seat, languid and confident. Jake shifts forward and you both meet him halfway, leaning in. It starts with Sunghoon kissing you, slow and teasing, then Jake's lips press to yours just as Sunghoon kisses him too—seamless, practiced, because this isn't the first time and won't be the last.

Now it's Sunghoon’s turn again. He looks around deliberately before pointing at Chaewon. "Truth or dare."

She tilts her head in mock thought. "Dare."

His smile curves up, all slow wickedness. "Okay then," he drawls, "I dare you to kiss my girlfriend."

Jake hums lowly behind you, and you glance over your shoulder, brows raised, but you're smiling too. Chaewon looks at you, not at all flustered, just intrigued. "Is this you giving me permission or are you trying to test something?" she teases, but she's already standing.

Sunghoon shrugs, leaning back. "Does it matter?"

Chaewon moves toward you slowly, one brow raised like she's giving you a moment to say no. But you don't, in fact you meet her halfway.

Her lips are soft, more playful than anything, and when she pulls back, you're both laughing a little, breathless from the sheer absurdity of it all, from the thrill. You're breathless too, blinking at her before both of you burst into giggles like you can't believe what just happened.

But the second you turn and settle back into Jake's lap, you feel it. Jake’s hardened cock, pressing up under you. He exhales shakily, his fingers tightening on your waist.

Chaewon clearly feels the same thing, because she freezes slightly in Heeseung's lap, then lets out a small surprised noise—more amused than shocked. Heeseung shifts beneath her, trying to play it off, but his ears are red.

Sunghoon notices it all and he groans, tilting his head back toward the stars like he's suffering. "Okay, not to kill the vibe, but are Heeseung and Chaewon gonna kiss already, or are we gonna keep playing this middle school game until someone has to dare them?"

Jake chokes out a laugh behind you. Sunghoon waves a hand lazily toward them. "Heeseung's boner is probably suffocating by now."

You giggle uncontrollably, half turning to look at them. Chaewon raises a brow, amused, while Heeseung mutters something under his breath and tips his beer bottle to his lips like it might save him from the situation.

Sunghoon sighs again, dramatically, like he's shouldering the burden of everyone's pent-up tension. "This game is doing too much and not enough at the same time."

The game fizzles out not long after. Everyone's a little too buzzed, too tangled up in the energy pulsing beneath the surface. Bottles are half-empty in the sand, and laughter fades into background noise as the fire crackles lazily. Sunghoon gets up with a stretch and a groan. "I'm gonna head in," he says, brushing sand off his hands.

"No one asked you to leave," Jake calls after him, but Sunghoon's already trudging toward the beach house, mumbling about how no one ever appreciates his sacrifices.

Chaewon shifts in Heeseung's lap, the light painting her in amber. She leans closer to him, her fingers brushing his jaw and he doesn't flinch, doesn't overthink it. His hand moves to her waist, tentative at first, then firm, like he's finally stopped resisting.

And then they're kissing, quietly, intimately. No show, no dare, no commentary. Just them, lost in their own moment.

You and Jake sit back in the beach chair, watching like creeps. "Should we be watching this?" you whisper, eyebrows raised but voice too entertained to be serious.

Jake doesn't look away. "I mean...it's kind of cute."

You lean your head on his shoulder, both of you quiet now, observing from the flickering glow of the fire as Heeseung and Chaewon melt into each other. There's something sweet about it. Gentle.

Jake kisses your temple. "Think this means we'll get invited to their wedding?" He asks you as he helps you stand up. You giggle, squeezing his hand. "Only if you don't scare her off first." You tell him as he guides you off the sand.

You're standing in front of the bathroom mirror, fresh from the shower, robe warm around your shoulders, dabbing serum into your cheeks when you hear it.

A muffled whimper. Faint and distant. You freeze, fingers paused mid-pat.

Then another, louder this time. You blink at your reflection, brows drawn together. Was that...?

"Hey," Jake hisses as he swings the bathroom door open without knocking, eyes wild with mischief. "You hear that?"

You turn, wide-eyed. "Wait, you heard it too?"

Jake nods like a cartoon villain mid-scheme. "You think what I'm thinking?"

You squint. "Could it be them?"

He doesn't even answer. Just grabs your hand and pulls you with him like you're both on a covert spy mission. You're tiptoeing through the villa, trying not to laugh as you both make your way down the hallway, past the kitchen, and toward the bedrooms. The moans are louder now—unmistakable, breathy, high-pitched.

Chaewon.

You slap a hand over your mouth as Jake quietly loses his mind next to you, the two of you grinning like idiots. Her voice, breathless and needy, "God, right there—don't stop—don't stop—"

You slap your hand over your mouth again, nearly snorting with shock.

Then Heeseung responds, his voice low and hoarse, "You're so fucking tight—fuck—you feel insane."

You nearly choke on your laughter, burying your face in Jake's hoodie while he squeezes your hand in absolute glee. It's obscene, filthy, and you're both entirely too happy about it. "She's louder than I expected," Jake whispers.

You giggle. "Heeseung's filthier than I expected."

You're both crouched near the cracked door now, barely breathing from how hard you're trying not to laugh—when suddenly a voice appears behind you, low and cool, "You two get off on this or something?"

You both jump like you've been electrocuted.

Jake spins around. You nearly stumble back.

Sunghoon stands behind you, wearing low-slung sweats and a damp tank, brow arched, hair still wet from a recent shower. You blink up at him, guilt written all over your face.

"We weren't—" Jake starts. "—Spying," you say. "We were...just checking."

Sunghoon steps closer, expression unreadable and then dryly asks, "Did you confirm enough?"

You grin, tucking into Jake's side as the moaning from Heeseung's room hits another crescendo. You can't tell if Chaewon's laughing or crying with pleasure now.

Jake winces. "Jesus."

Sunghoon sighs and shakes his head, muttering, "Unbelievable," as he comes closer to you, making you straighten and turn, already smiling, already melting into him. His arms slide around your waist instantly, pulling you close until your nose nearly brushes his collarbone.

"Really" he murmurs, voice low and amused, eyes flicking toward the door where the sounds are still spilling out. "You two are standing out here like perverts"

"They're being loud," you defend softly, fingers slipping up into his hair, a little dazed from the heat of him.

Sunghoon tilts his head. "Hot?"

You nod, cheeks flushing. He leans in, brushing his lips just barely over your cheek as he whispers, "Not as hot as you."

Your knees go weak.

Then, his hand slips around the back of your neck, thumb ghosting just beneath your ear. "Is your plug still in, baby?"

Your breath hitches audibly, and you nod again, eyes wide. He exhales slowly, smile tugging at the corner of his lips, there’s something almost devout in the way he looks at you. Then he tips his head toward the guest bedroom behind him, his mouth curling into a knowing smile. "Yeah?"

You nod again, smaller this time, breath hitching as his hands grip tighter. Without another word, he lifts you and starts walking. Jake grins, trailing after you both, already tugging off his shirt. "Fuck yeah," he says with a laugh, gaze flicking to the cracked door of Heeseung's room.

════════════════════════════

• a/n: i had to give heeseung a semblance of a happy ending 😭 i just had too!

[bluesidez]

Hello!!! Love that you’re taking requests now 🫶🏽 would you write a domestic!miguel fic? Like showing the chaotic but fluffy dysfunction of the O’Hara household. Miguel and the reader already have two kids, maybe reader is pregnant with the third (if you’re comfortable with writing that)

I just really need some fluff in my life lol 😅

[Five Peas In A Pod]

lab taster: @scorpihoooe 🩻

pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Pregnant!Reader

summary: No family's life is exactly perfect, but it doesn't make them any less beautiful.

content warning: lots and lots of fluff, mentions of vomit, mentions of pregnancy and pregnancy cravings, mentions of food, could possibly be suggestive? but not enough to warrant a huge warning, a lot of crying but I promise it's not sad

word count: 4.3k, not proofread

a/n: I apologize for this being so late! But I'm really happy with how it turned out, so I hope you enjoy it as well!

“Finally.”

Miguel slid under the covers, grunting as he inched towards your back. His breath was warm on your head as he positioned one arm under one of your pillows and another around your waist.

“How are we feeling?” he kissed your scalp and rubbed down your stomach.

“Not too great, she’s been kicking for the past forty minutes.”

“That’s no good,” Miguel shifted to place his mouth on your shoulder. “What’s wrong, mija? Did you miss me?”

Your baby girl brought her feet to where Miguel held his hand, tapping away like there was there was no tomorrow. Miguel chuckled and wrote a pattern into your skin with his thumb.

“I’m glad you two are having a lovely reunion, but I’d like to go to sleep.”

Miguel kissed up your shoulder and neck as you sighed.

“Hear that Gabi? Can you calm down until tomorrow? Mama needs to sleep so you can keep growing. We can talk in the morning.”

Like magic, Gabriella’s little feet slowed to a halt.

“She hasn’t even seen you yet and she’s already a daddy’s girl,” you weave your fingers through his over your stomach. “What’s next? She’ll look like you too?”

“Mm,” Miguel placed his lips behind your ear. “I hope she looks like you. She’ll be the most beautiful in the world.”

You smiled, “Yeah?”

“Of course.”

Miguel took his hands down your body and massaged your hip and lower back. You groaned and melted into your pillow, arching your body into Miguel’s hold. With his ministrations and your daughter giving you a break, you start to fade into dreamland.

You could almost visualize your next craving you were going to make tomorrow. A big bowl of mashed potatoes with chunks of pickles, bacon, and caramel drizzle. Maybe some sprinkles too.

The door of the bedroom creaked, Miguel looking over his shoulder.

“Daddy? Mommy? I threw up.”

Miguel’s hands paused and he heaved a heavy sigh.

There was a dip in the bed and a shuffle of slides across the floor.

“Is your stomach still feeling funny, bub?”

You turned your body to watch Miguel bend down and check your second oldest for soiled clothes. Daniel shook his head and tucked his chin into his chest, eyes welling up with tears.

“Hey, hey, what’s the matter?”

“I’m sorry,” his voice was shaking. “I didn’t mean to.”

You got up on the edge of the bed and walked around to the other side. You sat on your knees next to Miguel and pressed the back of your hand to Daniel’s forehead. He wasn’t burning up, but he was trembling.

“We know you didn’t mean to, honey. Sometimes, we just get sick. It’s ok!”

“Yeah, buddy. Papá gets sick all of the time.”

“Really?” Daniel looked to Miguel with big doe eyes, a baby picture of Miguel brought to life.

“Absolutely.”

“And Mama has to nurse him back to health-”

“Ok! Here,” Miguel tugged at the sleeves of his shirt while you laugh. “Let’s clean you up and get you some medicine. It was probably really scary, huh?”

Daniel nodded his head as Miguel helped him take off his pajama pants.

“C’mon. Let’s take a quick bubble bath. How does that sound? No need to be sad,” you gave Daniel a hug and kissed his cheek.

“I’ll get the sheets and clothes in the washing machine and join you.” Miguel said as he helped you up. So much for cuddles before bed.

Miguel was quick to scope Daniel’s room. Any smell of tonight’s stir fry mixed with the chocolate milk from lunch and your waves of morning sickness might come back. He was quick to transfer the sheets to the washing machine and spray the room down with disinfectant. Luckily, the damage wasn’t drastic, so a quick change of sheets and a mop to the floor was all that was needed.

By the time he got to the bathroom, Daniel was wrapped up in a green dinosaur hoodie towel with a smile on his face as you blew raspberries into his cheek.

Miguel gasped, “Are you two having a party without me?”

Daniel folded his hands under his chin and nodded meekly, face rosy.

“Nonsense!” Miguel swept him up in his arms. “There’s no party without Papá, no?”

The hall filled with giggles as Miguel airplaned Daniel back to his room. The chatter amongst them filled the noise as Miguel reassured Daniel that he and mommy would only be a room away if was feeling sick again.

He ran lotion over his body and placed him in paw print pajamas. He wrapped him tight in the covers and shifted the star night light on the nightstand. With a whisper of goodnight, Miguel inched his way to the door.

However, the crumbling face of the five year old as Miguel looked through the crack tugged at his heart. He opened the door, swept Daniel up, and trudged back to his own bedroom.

Walking into the room, you were laying down with the opposite side of the duvet flipped up and an extra pillow in between yours and his.

Your face was knowing, a shake in your shoulders as you watched Miguel rock a clingy baby in his arms to the bed.

“Joining mommy and daddy, Daniel?”

“Uh huh,” he crawls to the middle and pulls the covers up. You lay a hand on his tummy over the duvet as Miguel slips in with a deep sigh.

He turns and places his hand over yours, the two of you acting as a shield. “I love you’s” and “good nights” are exchanged and a kiss between the two of you is shared before Daniel whines about wanting a kiss too. Both of you laugh and kiss him on his cheeks as he settled into his pillow.

You rub his chest lightly, something that put him to sleep easily as a baby.

His eyes start to close, almost gone to the world, before he jerks back up, startling Miguel whose eyes were just as heavy.

“Papá, can you sing the night-night song?” Daniel pleads.

A soft breath escapes your nose as you watch Miguel blink his eyes open and comply.

“But you have to go to sleep after this, bub.”

Daniel promises to do so as Miguel starts up a lullaby about a baby that wants to sleep but can’t.

It works on you too, the low drum of his voice holding you in his arms as you held your baby in yours.

Gabriella moved, and as softly as you can, you take his hand to your stomach. With this, she taps softly to his palm.

Miguel smiles sleepily as he watches you take a little breath, the rise and fall of your chest showing that you were in a deep sleep.

He only stops singing when he’s sure all three of you are asleep.

“Jaime, I’ve asked you five times to get up already. Get it together.”

There was only one more hour left before everyone needed to be out of the house or else you’d be late to your appointment.

The lump in the bed only moves a bit before it’s still again.

“Jaime, please. I don’t want to have to pull you out of the bed.”

Today was already starting out all over the place. You woke up sweaty and achy, the heat radiating from your furnace of a husband and your snuggly son was too much. Your ankles felt a little more swollen than usual, and you wanted chewy spicy rice cakes with extra cheese, but the heartburn wouldn’t be worth it.

You sighed as your eldest stayed put. A soft pat to the bed only earned a whine and a wiggle from him.

Looking towards the growing footsteps at the door, your husband was frantic and glaring at his watch as if it cursed him.

“What’s the holdup? We need to be in the car soon and Daniel has to be at school early for a field trip.”

You held your hand out to the bed, face defeated.

“Son.”

Jaime shot up with a wobble to his lips and a scrunch to his face at the tone of Miguel’s voice.

You folded your arms, half concerned, half offended.

“I know you hear your mother asking you to get up.”

“But-“

“Jaime O’Hara.”

The tears start to fall as he shuffles out of bed and goes to the bathroom, his cries pitiful and broken.

He swings the door like he’s about to slam it only to close it softly at the end, the sound of his voice carrying through then hallway.

“Was I too hard on him?” Miguel’s shoulders drop.

“No? I don’t think so. But I think there’s something he’s not telling us.”

“Is there something going on at school? Did we miss an important date?”

The two of you stare at each other as Jaime continues to sob in the bathroom.

“There’s no award ceremonies. He hasn’t said anything strange about his classmates. His birthday isn’t until the end of the year. He does have his game coming up.”

Miguel gasps and runs his had through his hair, “He’s been worrying about his 3-pointers nonstop. He’s probably nervous about it.”

He puts his face in his hand and mumbles through his fingers.

“How could I forget?”

You pat his shoulder, “Don’t worry about that right now. What’s important is that we talk to him. Check up on him, calm him down, explain things to him, and encourage him. Right?”

“Absolutely,” Miguel kisses your temple. “You’re so good at this.”

A snicker follows his statement, “And so are you. Now, can you go stop his crying while I make sure Daniel hasn’t made a mess in the kitchen? He’s too quiet.”

Miguel’s eyebrows shot up again as he realized he left the kindergartner to his own devices. The last time he did that, he walked onto a floor covered in flour and dusty, giggly baby.

“Smart idea.”

“Mm hm.”

Miguel turns and heads towards the bathroom, giving it two knocks before asking to come in.

Jaime takes a deep breath and pushes out a yes.

Miguel opens the door to him crying in the mirror while he puts up his toothbrush. If it were anyone else’s child or baby brother, it could have been funny and dramatic, but Miguel sees himself in the way his entire chest jumps when he breathes in.

He hopes Jaime always feels that home is a safe place to cry and yell, something his own parents never offered him.

“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

He left his frustration with the frantic morning at the doorway and stepped inside. With one hand on the counter and another arm resting on his thigh, he squatted down to Jaime’s level.

His son rubbed his eyes from the inside of his elbow to his arm, “I kept messing up.”

“Messing up what? Your shots?”

Jaime nodded his head, curly hair bouncing along with it.

“At practice, Coach made us do Around-the-worlds and the further from the goal, the more I kept missing. But the game is soon, and I can’t mess up at the game.”

His voice reached its highest point and he bit his lip in order not to cry again.

“Oye, está bien. That’s just practice, mijo. The game isn’t until a few more days. There’s plenty of time for us to get to a court and do some more drills. I know it feels like a lot right now, but we can always work to be better. Understood?”

Jaime nodded his head.

“Can you look at me?”

Jaime pouted as he turned to Miguel.

“I apologize for not giving you the space to explain yourself this morning. I was rushing and I didn’t take the time to check on you. For that, Papá’s sorry. Lo siento, mijo.”

With a calmer demeanor, Jaime forgives him. No whines and no hesitation.

“Still, when you’re feeling like this, you need to communicate, ok? Mamá was there and you could have told her that you were worried. You could have even called for me and I would have come running.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt Mamá.”

Miguel bit the inside of his lip in order to not coo, “I know you didn’t. Would you like to apologize to her like I did to you?”

Jaime collided with Miguel’s chest and wrapped his arms around his neck. He could feel the movement of his head nodding.

“Ok, buddy. Let’s go find her after we get your uniform on.”

Jaime wasn’t budging from his spot so Miguel let him cling off his neck as he got up. One day his eldest might not want to do things like this again, so for now he’ll cherish it.

One blazer, some knaki shorts, and a button down later, Jaime was all ready for school.

“And what do we say when we’re feeling down about ourselves?” Miguel asked as he tucked in the end of Jaime’s belt.

“Nothing can stop me from the path I want to take, not even my doubts.”

“And?”

“O’Hara’s may make mistakes, but O’Hara’s bounce back. O’Hara’s succeed.”

“¡Exactamente!” Miguel patted his back.

“¿Papá?”

“¿Sí, mijo?”

Jaime held his hands up, silently pleading with Miguel.

With an easy tug, his son was in his arms. As tall as he was getting, he was still Miguel’s baby.

In the kitchen, you were leaning over the island as you listened intensely to Daniel talk about types of dinosaurs. You looked up to your son in your husband’s arms and you knew they had a good talk.

Miguel strode up to you and looked at Jaime expectantly.

“I,” he picked at his uniform tie. “I’m sorry for not listening to you this morning Mamá. I was sad but that- that doesn’t mean I was supposed to ignore you.”

Your eyes started to water, “I forgive you, Jaime. I’m glad you were able to figure out what was wrong. Can I give you a kiss?”

“Yes, please.”

With that, you kiss his cheek and place a hand on his head.

“Papá, pick me up too!” Daniel huffs out.

Miguel complies, holding him in his other arm like nothing. You giggle at the three of them, all very similar in some way. Their skin, their hair, their smiles. Your precious, precious boys.

A sharp kick to your stomach causes you to suck in through your teeth.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” Miguel asks with a pinch in his brow.

“No, I just think a certain someone wants your attention, too.”

You gently press your stomach to your husband’s, hoping that he could feel Gabriella’s tap dance performance.

“She’s going crazy in there,” you mumble.

Miguel can kind of feel her little feet through his shirt, but really, he was staring at you.

Even as you frowned at your stomach, you were still so beautiful. Your skin was glowing, you were giving him more smiles than ever, and the pregnancy was treating your body right in his eyes.

“Mírame.”

You peer up at him and it’s like a halo appears above your head. He’s quick to slot his lips against yours and hold it, the feeling of warmth settling into his bones.

“Eugh,” Jaime scrunches his face up in disgust.

You pull back and shake your head with a heated face, brought back to reality. Daniel is giggling behind his hands.

Miguel turned to Jaime and bombarded his face with kisses to, leading the 9-year-old to scream bloody murder. You joined Miguel on his attack, not stopping until Jaime waved his white flag.

The two of you looked at each other and then at Daniel simultaneously who squeaked when he saw you grin. Laughter filled the kitchen as the three of you gave Daniel some love.

Mornings were for chaos, but they also brought you together.

By the time Miguel was walking to the car with his kids, it was far past his estimated time.

He turned and looked at you still standing by the kitchen counter.

“Baby, c’mon.”

“But,” you pause, smile growing on your face. “The baby wants to be carried, too.”

You think he’s about to brush the comment off with a sigh but he gives a “One sec” and disappears into the garage with the kids.

You go to gather your purse and your water, checking that all of the lights and appliances are turned off.

“Ok,” Miguel rushes back in and claps his hands, “vamos.”

Three blinks at his wrestler stance and it clicks. You walk to him and your feet leave the ground.

“You’re so silly,”

“Just in love, mi amor.”

The gel was still as cold as ever, you could never really get used to it.

Looking to Miguel, you could see that he could never get used to sitting next to you in these rooms either. His grip on your hand was tight and solid.

The obstetrician slid the transducer on your lower stomach, her eyes sliding over the screen.

Gabriella’s little heartbeat bounced through the room, fast and strong.

Miguel’s grip on your hand loosened as he smiled at the screen.

“Baby girl is looking good,” the doctor says. “Everything is in place and she’s growing perfectly. You both should be proud.”

She paused and looked at you both, specifically at Miguel, “I would be worried about how she big she’s getting at this stage, but I can see why. How tall are you?”

“Uh, 6’9.”

A whistle passes her lips, “Godspeed, Mama. You’ll need it for the next several months.”

“Two boys and my only girl is going to give me a run for my money,” you mumble.

Jaime and Daniel were so tiny when they came out, both of them barely showing at five months. Gabriella is close to being almost twice their size at this rate, and the soreness all over your body was showing it.

At least your husband made time to make you feel good in more ways than one.

“Is there anything that she should look out for? Other than the obvious?” Miguel asks, always the worrier.

“No, I think you guys are good to go. I’ll get you some pictures of the baby and get you checked out. Just keep taking your vitamins, get plenty of water, get those feet up, and stretch as much as you can while you still feel like it. The least stress you have, the better.”

Your stomach is wiped clean and in no time, you’re back in the car trying to decide what to get for lunch.

“I feel like I should have asked more questions,” Miguel’s fingers tapped on the wheel.

“I’m sure you’ll have more that you can call her for later, baby. Right now, I want a milkshake.”

“You need some nourishing food, too.”

“Is that what you want Gabriella?” you ask your stomach. No taps, no spins, no twirls. “What about a milkshake? Chocolate oreo? Extra whip cream?” Gabriella thumps three times.

“My girl is already so smart,” you say to Miguel who scowls.

“Already so spoiled.”

“You love it, though.”

“Mm.”

Miguel swore he would never be like those fathers that only connected to their children through their own expectations of them, and to be fair, he was the complete opposite.

Though seeing him stand at the bottom of the bleachers with a baseball cap, folded arms, and a stern face gave the impression that he was that type of dad.

“¡Ay, eso es faulta!”

“Babe. Maybe let’s let the coach and the referee do their jobs.”

“They don’t know what they’re doing. That was clearly a foul and my son should be holding the ball right now.”

You sighed and continued to chew on your nachos with Daniel who was just happy to be out of the house later than usual. Miguel was about to burn a hole in the gymnasium floor with how stiff he was standing.

Behind him was a family that couldn’t see, leaning around him.

“Miguel, honey, please sit down so everyone can see.”

He sits and folds his hands under his chin. His muscles bulge through his jacket as his legs bounce.

You place a hand on his leg and put a water bottle to his lips. He takes a few sips and focuses back on the game.

“Let’s go, Jaime! Make it count!”

He’s back on his feet again as Jaime gets ready to shoot some free-throws.

Jaime looks at Miguel, a hint of fear in his eyes. Miguel brings his hands up and pushes them down, motioning a deep breath.

“You got this, mijo. Just like we practiced.”

Your son dribbles once, twice, and takes the shot.

The basketball flies through the air and brushes the rim of the basket. It spins and the gym goes quiet. You don’t realize your holding your breath until it comes back when the people behind you stomp on the bleachers.

Jaime looks to Miguel with the brightest face he could muster. Miguel almost springs through the ceiling with how high he jumps.

“That’s my son,” he claps his hands like thunder, chest puffing up. “That’s my son!”

The game continues with Miguel milliseconds from fighting with the official, Jaime looking to Miguel for encouragement, and you smacking the back of his thighs whenever he was standing too much.

When Jaime made the final basket, you were scared Miguel might do a backflip.

Jaime ran to him and jumped in his arms, Miguel spinning him around and laughing with glee.

“I did it, daddy! I did it!”

“¡Eres increíble, mijo! I’m so proud of you.”

“Did you see me, mommy?”

“I did! I couldn’t take my eyes off of you!”

Daniel jumps up and down, “You made the ball go whoosh! And, and, and when it went in everybody screamed!”

Jaime and his brother played together as the gym started to empty out.

“What do you say we celebrate with some pizza?” you ask Miguel as you watch Jaime help Daniel dribble.

“I think that’s an excellent idea.”

“And what do you say to carton of cotton candy ice cream after the kids go to bed? Maybe even a soak in the bath?”

Miguel looked to you as you blinked your eyes at him. You slid your hands down his arm and tilted your head.

“You want vanilla wafers too?”

You nod.

“And strawberry syrup?”

“You’re such a good husband.”

You pull him down to kiss him, heart soaring.

“Mamá! Look what I can do!”

“No, Daniel! Don’t jump off that!”

“If I hear that raccoon sing that song one more time, I’m going to lose it,” Miguel bit into a slice of pizza.

You reached across the table to wipe some ranch off of his lips and lick it away.

“I like the song! He’s a little off-key, though.”

Miguel had a grimace on his face, the energy from the building overwhelming. Or perhaps it was Daniel clinging tight to his side whenever the mascot came close to their table.

A couple of kids ran by, running towards the line for laser tag.

You listened to them go over strategies, all very serious coming from them.

“God, I can’t believe he’ll be 10 soon. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

You poke the straw of your cup in and out, pout on your face. It felt like just yesterday you and Miguel were setting up his nursery.

“I remember him grabbing my finger at the hospital. So strong for someone who couldn’t eat solids yet.”

“Now he’s running around and blooming into this perfect little boy,” you sigh, watching him catapult into a ballpit. You should definitely make him take some vitamins later, just to be sure.

“And this little boy is the sweetest,” Miguel kissed the top of Daniel’s head, who seemed to be pre-occupied with a coloring book you packed.

“And once our little girl is in our arms, it’ll be so special,” you say. “She’s already making an impact.”

“I’m already crazy about her,” Miguel grins.

“And I’m ready for her to come out,” you snicker. “I have a feeling that whatever she’ll do will involve these rapid fire feet.”

“I need to get some new running shoes then,” Miguel replies in all seriousness. Daniel interrupted him with a drawing of a T-rex.

“When she gets here,” Miguel comments in between his praise for Daniel’s skill, “how do you want to celebrate afterwards?”

“I don’t need anything. Just maybe a plate of food I couldn’t eat and a comfy bed.”

“Mamà, c’mon,” Miguel held your hand across the table. “That can be arranged easily. I mean something especially for you for doing something so amazing. It can be anything. I’ll make it happen.”

Your heart sped up, a bit giddy.

“Well the last time we took a trip to an island and,” you panned to Daniel, “we both know how that ended. Maybe the mountains?”

“We can do the mountains. Or just you and your friends if you want.”

Miguel thought about you all bundled up and cozy, enjoying s'mores and wine in a sweater and a blanket. Peak cuddling form.

“That would be very nice. Thank you, Miggy.”

“Of course. Now what do you say to a friendly game of arcade racing?”

“There’s nothing friendly about leaving you in the dust.”

Miguel scoffed and slid Daniel into his arms.

“It’s on.”

As always, if you enjoyed, please like, reblog, and COMMENT! This was very sweet to write!!

[totallynottinsel]

A very chill Bilbo being carried EVERYWHERE - @lilylolipp0ps

he's just a chill guy yk

This one is pretty short unfortunately 😭 more of a headcanon snippet than a fic but here it is!

Update: 100+ NOTES?? hwosydgeudjeuxge what

"Oh, for---ack!" Bilbo's face meant the dirt in an unfortunate tumble over a rock, the third one he'd tripped over that night---mostly because he couldn't bloody see a thing with all the trees blocking what little moon light they had. They had been walking for hours, and he was certainly starting to feel his legs grow weary. "Blasted rocks," He mumbled, spitting out the debris that stuck to his face as he pushed himself upward, dusting off his coat. Suddenly he felt a sting in his knee, and from what he could see and feel, he'd gone and nagged his skin, which was no help at all. He was getting very tired of this.

Pt. 2 here

"Are you alright?" Thorin approached him while the rest of the company scurred around, placing a hand on his shoulder. Bilbo was still getting used to him being so friendly after their time on the carrock---so an immediate 'just get up you fool' or something along those lines from the dwarf was very refreshing.

"Hm? Oh, yes, I... I just fell, again. I think I cut my leg up a bit, but I'm---" He winced as he took a step, his leg almost buckling under the pressure. "Ooh, yes, fine, I've got it." He was in fact not, but he'd just gained Thorin's respect and wasn't about to come off as a burden again.

"You look exhausted, you're not 'fine'." Thorin helped steady him, noticing the heaviness of his eyes. "Come on, we're almost to a place where we can make camp. I'll carry you there."

"Really, I can mana---you'll what?"

"Carry you."

Now that was unexpected. "Are---are you sure? I'm half your size! Not that I don't think you're capable, your very---er," He gestured to the dwarf's upper body. "Well built. But I'll make it, I just have to rest a moment. Why don't you all go ahead,"

"I'm not going to leave you behind." Thorin crossed his arms, clearly not going to budge in his decision. "I won't drop you, if that's what you're worried about."

"Hm, right." Bilbo found that hard to believe, but his knee and his tiredness won over his suspicions fairly quick. "Well, uh... go ahead, I suppose? Or I could---" In that moment he was swept off his feet in a blink, his arms scrambling for purchase over the dwarf's shoulders and around his neck. "A warning would be nice!"

"Comfortable?"

Bilbo nodded, though he really didn't loosen up until a few minutes in when he was certain he wouldn't be meeting the ground again. It felt silly, he hadn't been carried by anyone since he was under ten! But odd as it may seem to the onlookers---mostly Fili and Kili who were giggling up a storm---he had to admit it was nice. Surely better than walking and straining himself further. With each heavy step his eyes drooped down, and eventually he drifted off, teetering his head to rest on Thorin's shoulder, who wasn't opposed to it.

When they reached their designated makeshift camp for the rest of the night, Thorin did his best to lay Bilbo down on the best semi-undisturbed patch of grass he could find, careful not to wake him. Successful in his attempts, he forwent his coat to drape it over him. He was just about to call it a night when he caught a glimpse of Dwalin giving him a funny look that spoke enough for itself. "What?"

"Nothin'. Nothin' at all." The other dwarf shook his head, grinning, then took his leave.

Thorin was sure that wouldn't be the last of it.

When he was certain Thorin was out of range Bilbo peaked over his shoulder, seeming to have convinced the dwarf he genuinely had fallen asleep. Which---that was half true, as he did drift off for a minute, but mostly just enjoyed being cared for by Thorin. Which was a totally normal thing for good friends to do for each other, nothing else to it.

Bilbo clutched the coat closer to him, feeling its used softness and warmth and ever familiar scent that was distinctly its owners. Seconds after he realized what he was doing and smacked a hand to his face; Thorin was just being nice! He was reading too much into it and quite frankly getting a bit too comfortable. He forced himself to close his eyes and try to focus on something else other than... well, Thorin in general. The fact Óin came to his aid to bandage his leg up certainly helped.

When morning came he went onward---though still quite sore---with the dwarf's coat bunched up in his arms in search of him to return it. He was fairly easy to find, off by some tree re-braiding some hair that has gotten knotted. "Er, good morning. I... yours." He pushed the coat towards him. "Thank you, I mean. For last night."

Thorin smiled, taking the coat back. "Of course, I'm here whenever you may need me."

"Oh, well, I might just take you up on that."

"Having me carry you places, or something else?" Thorin quirked a brow his way from behind his curtain of locks.

"Uh, that's... a fantastic question. Actually, I really should be going, lots of... bugs to get out of my shoes!" Bilbo started to back away, scratching behind his neck.

Thorin blinked at him before looking down at his feet, stating the obvious.

"Ah... good morning." Bilbo fled the scene as awkwardly as he possibly could have and just about wanted a tree to fall on top of him so he didn't have to face Thorin Oakenshield's questionable and annoyingly hard to read actions ever again. Much to his delight, they didn't discuss the previous night or after at all, as they had quite a full day running from Azog's reach. Though that did not stop the occasional glances or stares from happening, surely confirming they both hadn't stopped thinking of it.

[daceydeath]

Did You Steal Them?

Pairing: Hongjoong x Reader Word Count: 1.4k Genre: Smut 🔞 Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI. explicit material

Funny how one missing item can change the whole night.

"Pretty baby hurry up we will be late for our reservation" he called as you rifled through your draw once more. You had done your hair, make up and picked out your dress but for the life of you, you couldn't find the underwear you had planned to wear. You knew you couldn't just wear another pair they would show under your dress so taking one last look in the mirror you gave yourself a once over to check that it wasn't too obvious you were going commando.

"I'm ready" you smiled trying to hide the nerves, you had never left the house without underwear and with such a short dress you were hoping everything would be alright. Hongjoong did a quick double take when he saw you step out of his bedroom and into the living area of the dorm making you flush with shyness and miss the smirk that crossed his face as he noticed how his two members looked at you before returning to what they were previously doing.

"You look gorgeous my stunning baby" He hummed stepping towards you and placing a soft kiss on your temple "shall we go?". Taking your hand in his Hongjoong led you towards the door to help you with your shoes before escorting you downstairs to the waiting car.

"So will you tell me where we are going now?" you asked taking his hand in yours to hold.

"It's a surprise baby" he sighed dramatically "this whole night is meant to be a surprise".

"I know but I'm just excited" you pouted cutely hoping to melt his resolve but he just laughed at your attempt bringing your hand to his lips to kiss your knuckles.

You arrived at the restaurant that provided perfect panorama views of the twinkling city lights and were swept off your feet by the private table that he had booked for you that was waiting with a bottle of champagne and a beautiful red rose that sat on the side of the table that you were to sit at. With his organization of everything all you had to do was sit, sip your wine, enjoy the view and enjoy being with your beloved boyfriend. After several glasses of wine even the food you had eaten couldn't stop the effects of the alcohol making you feel far bolder than you usually would.

"Joonie?" you giggled biting your lower lip as you watched him.

"Yes my pretty silly baby" he grinned back his sweet gummy smile not hiding the mischief that was evident in his eyes.

"Did you take something of mine before we came out?" you dragged the tip of your finger around the rim of your glass.

"What do you think that I took baby?" he chuckled watching you with darkening eyes, as he raised an eyebrow challengingly.

"I'll give you a clue....they are black and made of French lace" you whispered leaning across the table towards him.

"Are we talking about my favorite things baby?" He leaned towards you almost meeting you in the middle as though you were the most unsubtle people in the place.

"We are!" you giggled loudly your eyes bright as he played along making him lean back to laugh at you properly.

"I didn't steal your underwear" he rolled his eyes still chuckling at you.

"Well who did then?" you huffed crossing your arms dramatically "I had to go without because they were gone".

"Baby...wait...are you telling me you aren't wearing anything under that dress?" he coughed on his own saliva as you looked at him innocently the pout still sitting on your lips.

"Uhuh" you nodded picking up your glass to take the last sip of wine that remained in it.

"Shit" he breathed before waving over a waiter from the other side of the room "Can we get the bill please?".

After promptly paying and getting you back into the car as gracefully as he could you headed back to the apartment.

"Joonie?" you frowned his hand having not left your body since you left the restaurant was now holding your thigh his fingers caressing your bare skin in teasing circles that kept creeping higher. "If you didn't take them who did?". Hongjoong simply hummed not answering the question before you were distracted by a bright neon sign that you hadn't noticed previously.

The dorm was quiet when you walked inside you couldn't hear either of the other members so with an amazing lack of awareness you crept your way noisily towards Hongjoong's room trying not to giggle the entire way as he continued to occasionally steer you in the right direction around door frames and large pieces of furniture using your hips. After depositing you safely on his bed Hongjoong checked his phone and noticed that Wooyoung was doing a live that appeared to be at the company with Seonghwa and Yeosang so that left just Jongho, who he guessed was probably out with San.

"I am going to fuck you in that dress baby" he grinned wickedly unbuttoning his shirt and dropping it messily to the floor his face changing as you spread your legs to see exactly how wet you were. "Such a little slut going out with nothing but this little dress to cover you" he murmured against your calf kissing his way up your leg leaving a trail of wetness where ever his lips touched your burning skin.

"Stop teasing me Joonie" you pouted as you arched off the bed his breath fanning across your wet folds before he changed legs and kissed his way down to your other calf.

"You are the one who's teasing baby" he smiled against your skin "and I will thank whoever 'stole' your underwear".

"Hongjoong" you gasped trying to speak but failing and his fingers slid along your slit collecting your juices before spreading them and gently circling your clit. Unbuckling his belt and undoing his pants as he played with you so sweetly, he lent forward kissing the tops of your breasts and up your neck to your jawline mouthing at this skin to leave faint marks all over you.

"Who knew you were such a little whore? I wanted to fuck you right there at the table, just bend you over and show everyone how much you love my cock" he groaned feeling your hips bucking against his fingers slipping two inside you to feel how much you were already clenching for him.

"Need you inside me Joonie" you whined loudly rolling your hips to fuck yourself on his fingers.

"Oh you'll have me baby just not yet" he snickered sliding his finger out of you and sticking it in his mouth licking it clean "First I want my dessert" spreading your thighs apart further only forced your dress up your hips leaving even more of you on display but you couldn't find it in yourself to care as your boyfriend yanked you closer to the edge of the bed and sank to his knees between them. His hot breath tickled your sensitive skin as he pulled your thighs over his shoulders and licked a long hard stripe through your folds.

"Shit, Hongjoong" you mewled wantonly your fingers threading into his hair and scratching his scalp. sucking your clit between his lips he suckled on you until your thighs were shaking only changing to flicking your swollen nub when he felt you getting too close to your high "Fuck just like that, don't stop". His deep groan vibrated against your core making your moan loudly pulling his hair unconsciously.

Pulling away from your puffy lips you cried out in frustrated disappointment only to have your breath knocked out of you and Hongjoong slammed his cock inside you roughly.

"Ah...Ng" You sobbed unintelligibly coming hard around his length as soon as it kissed your cervix.

"Aw, my pretty little slut already creaming on my cock?" he mocked slamming his hips against you again setting as frenzied pace.

"Joonie" you hiccuped gripping his shoulders, the loud sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the room. "Oh God Hongjoong".

"Be a good girl and take it" he growled sexily, his hands gripping your hip and leg so tightly that he was going to leave you with marks for days, out your second climax sneaking up on you as making you scream his name like a prayer. He grunted his hips becoming erratic as he followed you over the edge, his thick hot seed filling you completely. Gently pulling himself from you he grabbed some tissues to clean himself up before pulling you into his arms. You laid in silence each trying to catch your breath when you noticed.

“Hongjoong…” you started your voice tinged with confusion.

“Yes baby” he hummed, kissing your temple while his hands grazed over your still buzzing skin.

“Why are my knickers hanging on the back of your door handle?”

a/n: Thank you for reading my lovelies, all you likes, reblogs and comments warm my half dead heart xx

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[saturneras]

Private Eyes II

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: It has been a couple of weeks and the job has worked you to the bone. You haven't finished your shift at the station once during daylight hours and the tasks keep piling up. The worst of it all? Joel Miller has made himself scarce and you only ever see him leaving the office exactly when you appear. One could assume he is trying to avoid you on purpose. Be as it may, after what happened in the archives, you are not letting him off the hook this easily. After all it is your brother's poker night and you know a certain chief of police who hasn't missed a game in weeks. Isn't it a wonderful night for a game?

Note: I am so happy you guys liked the first part and I hope this one makes you kick your feet.

Part I

When you sort the last report into the file and place them on the rookie's desk, you let out a big sigh. Finished. And it is not even eight o'clock. What a win. Almost everyone is already gone for the night and as you gather your jacket out of the little cubicle Lori assigned you on your first day, Daniel calls out from behind you.

"Still here?"

"Justice never sleeps,” you joke and pull on your jacket.

He grins, "I feel like this is something I should say."

His smile is handsome, attractive even. His uniform is very well fitted and you can tell that he probably works out regularly. Does seem like a guy who drinks an insane amount of protein shakes and doesn't do caffeine though.

You shrug and grab your bag. "You can use it, I won't tell."

Another laugh and you brush past him toward the door. If you’re quick you’ll catch them right when they’ve already had a drink or two. Alcohol makes for lose tongues and quick tempers, equaling lots of fun.

“You need a ride?” Daniel asks.

You shake your head. "I'm good, but thanks."

Before you turn around again, Daniel takes a step toward you. "It's no problem, really. I'm just finishing up myself."

"Actually," you reply. "I'm just on my way down to Mickey's."

His eyebrows lift up. "Oh no way, I was just heading over there myself."

That's probably a lie and you can tell by the way he so desperately wants to seem nonchalant, but you don't care and would rather take the 10 minute drive than walk for 30 in this heat.

"Oh, what a coincidence," you say and can't help the slight sarcastic undertone. You like Daniel, just as much as the next girl likes a nice guy. He has had you work on some reports he had to write and let you draft up a proposal to the city for some funding allocations last week that you actually put a lot of work into. But you can't shake the feeling that he seems like the kind of guy to take credit for other people's work.

"Yeah," he says and smiles easily. "Funny."

"I just need to change really quick, is that okay?"

Daniel nods, "Of course, take your time."

You quickly change into some jeans and a white tee in the women's changing rooms.

Out in the station's parking lot he opens the door for you. Daniel drives a BMW, which does seem like quite a fancy car for a police officer. "You like the car?" He asks.

You can't help but chuckle slightly at his eager tone. You don't really care for cars, but reply, "Sure."

Daniel starts the engine and you smoothly glide out of the parking lot and the buildings rush past you on the side of the street. You lean back into the seat a little and close your eyes for a second, letting the work day fall away.

"Have you been settling in nicely?" Daniel breaks the sweet silence between you two.

You turn your head to face him and say, "You do know that this is my hometown, right?"

He laughs as if you had made a joke. "Oh sure, sure, I just meant with the station and all."

"It's a lot of work," you reply honestly. "I just wish I could see some operations, some action, you know?"

"Right," Daniel replies. "The chief likes you in the back office, huh?"

"I don't think the chief likes me to do anything," you say a little too snappy.

Daniel grins. "He isn't the most accommodating person here, let's be real."

When you say nothing, he adds, "But not everybody is like that. I really appreciate all the stuff you've been helping me out with. Your report was really good, by the way. Maybe I can take you out on a ride that's not too dangerous some time."

"Sounds good," you say. "I'm glad I could help."

"It actually went pretty well, the city agreed to all the terms you suggested. You're really good at this."

You laugh. "Maybe they're just easily convinced."

Right when you pull up into the parking lot at Mickey's, Daniel says, "I bet you can be pretty irresistible, huh?"

You know how this goes and are not in the mood for a "I'm just a nice guy trying to be nice" kind of conversation and just ignore the comment. He pulls into a spot in front of the entrance and you can't make out your brother's truck anywhere. Maybe you've mixed up the days?

When you step into the bar, the first couple of notes of Two Dozen Roses fills the air and your ears immediately. You've always liked it here, even though as a teenager you never used to drink go. Mickey's seemed more like a bar for dads and older brother's who didn't like to talk or listen to anything other than country. And as a 19 year old all you want to do is talk and listen to anything but country. You can tell Daniel is somewhere behind you, rambling about something.

"I'll go get us a drink," Daniel says and puts one hand softly on your back faster than you can react and struts off to the bar.

You take a look around and see the usual crowd hanging around the bar and the little dance floor. But just as ocean calls to the shore, you can sense his eyes on you even before you spot him a couple of tables further in the back. He is sitting facing the entrance, like a good chief of police should, in between his brother Tommy and some guy you haven't seen before. You spot your brother with his back turned toward you, his shoulders shaking with laughter.

"You should've thought of that before you invited him to join, Tommy," Casey says between laughs.

Joel Miller hasn't stopped looking at you this whole time you're standing in the middle of the room. His eyes are like honey stuck to a spoon, lazily clinging to every bit of you. The chief also has changed out of his usual white shirt and tie and is wearing a dark green flannel that stretches over his chest the moment he leans back into his chair, taking a sip of his drink. The ice cubes slide toward his mouth and the thought of the warmth of his lips melting the ice with each sip hits you like a curveball. For some reason, inexplicable to you, it makes your stomach tighten. Okay, that's a lie. You can admit, perfectly indifferent, of course that Joel Miller is .. not hard to look at. His dark eyes are still on you. Taunting. As if he's reading your mind, he raises his right eyebrow and you can't help but make your way over, as if he's got some gravitational pull forcing you to submit. Calling something inside of you that you hadn't realised was there.

"Well well well," Tommy says loudly. "Who do we have here? Isn't it the future attorney general?"

You can't help but smile at Tommy, who gets up immediately, moving around the table to engulf you in a tight hug. He is the friendliest man you've ever met and you're happy your brother chose someone so lovely to build a business with. Casey turns his head and grins.

"Off before midnight?" Casey asks mockingly. "What's gotten into you?"

"Midnight?" Tommy barks. "What have you been making her do, Joel?"

All eyes turn to him and he doesn't even flinch, just looks at his brother and says, "Nothing she can't handle."

Your eyes meet for a split second and then he glances at his brother again.

"This sounds like a case of employee exploitation, if you ask me," Tommy says.

"Nobody did," Joel replies gruffly and gets up from his seat.

"Hey," Tommy turns to me. "You want a drink?"

Just in time, Daniel materialises behind us, two bottles in his hands. "Hey, guys."

Casey turns toward the table again, mumbling something that did sound quite a lot like hell nah. It takes a second before Tommy's furrowed brows ease up and he smiles. "You brought the little Sheriff?"

"Who?" You ask, confused.

Tommy points to Daniel, whispering in my ear. "His dad is the Sheriff."

"Oh," you say. "I didn't know."

Tommy nods and takes the beer out of Daniel's hand. "Thanks bud, you play poker?"

Daniel looks as if he might protest but then remains silent and nods his head.

"You can join if you want," Tommy suggests and elicits a muffled groan by Casey and the other guy. "I think Joel has stripped us of enough money tonight."

"Yeah, sure," Daniel nods eagerly. "I just need to call my Dad to let him know I won't make it to dinner."

Joel huffs and grabs his glass from table. You take a step back and let Daniel slip into Tommy's seat, while Tommy mumbles something into his brothers ears and pats him on the back. Joel turns around and heads for the bar. You watch him go and then watch them play for a bit. You've played enough poker with your dad that you realise they're all trying hard not to make Daniel look like an idiot, who continuously makes every possible mistake.

"I'll be right back," you say to Casey and make your way to the bar, turning left toward the restrooms. Behind a cherry red door leads a narrow hallway. You open the heavy door and after having stepped inside for a couple of steps, collide with the broad chest dressed in a dark green flannel button down.

"Didn't I tell you to be more careful?" His voice is calm and has the tiniest bit of bite to it.

"I probably wasn't listening," you reply.

"Why did you bring your puppy?" He says.

"My what?" You say and then realise who he is talking about. "Oh, Daniel just gave me a ride from work."

"Since when do you dress for work like this?" Joel's eyes graze down your body in a calculated measure. You think you must imagine the way his eyes darken when they roam over your white shirt. And you can't help but cross your arms under his scrutiny, feeling like it's burning through you.

"You know there are changing rooms at the station and you would know what I had been wearing to work if you would ever bother to show up yourself."

Now it is his time to cross his arms defensively. "I've been busy."

"With what?" You press.

"With shit that is none of your concern," he replies roughly.

"So it is only my concern, when you need someone to do your shitty paperwork?"

"You wanted to see how the real world works," he says. "There you go."

"Daniel at least lets me do some actual work and not just digitalise files from the 70s," you say.

"I knew he did not fucking write that report," Joel mumbles more to himself than you. "He shouldn't have done that."

"I enjoyed writing it."

"I don't care if it made your little lawyer heart race," he says. "It was Riley's job and he didn't do it."

"It got done, didn't it?" You say.

"That's not the point," Joel says sharply. "He had a direct order and he disobeyed it. It's not your job to do his work. I assigned him that task to make him familiarise himself with the issues our station is facing."

You stay silent and Joel clears his throat.

"Never mind, he'll hear the end of this."

"I didn't realise I was disobeying your order," You say.

Joel furrows his brows. "You weren't."

"You sure?"

"Believe me," he replies. "If you were disobeying my orders, you would know."

His gaze is lowered down to you and you feel your body tensing.

You let your arms fall to your sides and slightly lean forward. "Remind me to never disobey your orders then."

"Following orders does not seem like your strong suit." His face remains impassive.

You grin slightly and focus on his face. It would only take one small step to close the distance between you two. Not even a second.

Once again his eyes have turned to molten chocolate and you can't help but watch their specks of gold catch the dim light. He looks like he hasn't shaved is beard in a couple of days and you wonder what his stubble feels like scraping against your neck. The sudden thought surprises you. How would it feel to be pressed against his front with his arm around you and his tongue on your neck? The sudden image of it runs on a loop inside of your head, when Joel interrupts, "Casey can't drive you home. He's been drinking."

The change of subject confuses you for a second, as if you both were watching the same movie but he switched the channel.

"I know," you say. "But I'm staying a bit later anyways."

"You need to call your daddy first, too?" Joel asks, raising his eyebrow. And you know he cannot not like this, enjoy this understanding between the two of you.

"Which one?" You retort and he isn't quick enough at hiding his surprise.

He grunts and leans the slightest bit toward you. "Why do I feel like a broken record when I tell you to watch your goddamn tone."

"Maybe you should ask nicely," you say.

"That is not something you should say to your boss, sweetheart" Joel says.

"As I am officially clocked out and due to you not carrying your badge or your gun it is safe for me to assume you are off duty. So technically, you're not acting as my boss right now, sir."

"Just because you can't see it, does not mean it isn't there," Joel says and you raise your eyebrows.

"A grower not a shower, huh?"

Joel's eyes narrow. "You need to watch it, Darlin'."

He turns his body, forcing you to do the same, so your back is pressed against the wall of the hallway. You're trying to concentrate on his words but his smell makes its way up your nose and seems to cloud your brain. He is so close that you can feel his hot breath on your skin, laced with a hint of whiskey. You thought it would be much easier to navigate this conversation but now it seems almost redundant and you slowly forget why you wanted to talk in the first place.

He raises his arm and places one hand next to your head. "Has anyone ever told you that you're a piece of work?"

Your chin raises slightly in defiance. "You're not the first one who has given me such a compliment."

Joel's jeans touch your bare legs and if he wanted to he could flush your bodies by the push of his hips. He is towering over you, his eyes looking like they're looking for something on your face, they haven't been able to find yet. And you feel like telling him you want him to never stop searching for it. You hear the first couple of notes of Chris Stapelton's "You Should Probably Leave" resound from the bar, as he lifts his other hand slowly as if not to startle you.

When his large hand has almost touched your hip, he says, "Let's see if I'll be the la-"

The door to the bar opens and Joel immediately yanks his hands away and puts two step between you.

Daniel appears in the doorway and his eyes widen in surprise. "Oh, there you are."

"Here I am," you say, trying to sound relaxed. Probably failing. What the fuck was that just now?

"I was just gonna say that your brother just headed out over to Tommy's house for more drinks and I need to go to my dad's house to pick some stuff up," he says.

It takes you a second to figure out that he is waiting for you to relieve him of the duty to give you a ride home.

"No worries, I'll just get an Uber," you say exactly at the same time Joel says, "I'll take her."

You turn around and glare at him. "That won't be necessary."

"Awesome," Daniel exclaims. "Thanks, Chief. See you tomorrow."

And with that he steps back into the bar, leaving you standing there with Joel.

"I can just get an Uber, it's no big deal."

"I'm taking you home and it's not a topic of discussion, so you can shut it," he says and starts walking toward the door. You follow his steps quickly.

"I am an adult, I can get home by myself," you protest.

"Do you even know how many women get kidnapped or assaulted by their driver?"

"This isn't New York, Miller," you say. "We are in Texas."

"What do you think I'm doing at my job?" Joel says and opens the bar entrance door for you to walk through. "Cutting ribbons and issuing speeding tickets?"

"Something like that," you say and stop in front of his truck.

"Why do you think we established our office hours for women?" He looks at you as if he's actually waiting for a response, but you know he isn't. "People are dangerous and it is my job to protect you."

"I don't need protection," you snap and add, "From you."

"You might not need it," Joel says, opening the passenger door. "But you sure as hell will get it. Now get in the truck."

You don't attempt to make a move and he shifts his weight.

"It might make it easier," Joel warns. "But I don't need a badge nor gun to make you get into this truck, Darlin'."

"I'd love to see you try," you press and almost see a grin appear on Joel's face.

"I ain't above throwing you over my shoulder."

"Is that supposed to make me feel scared?"

He stoically remains next to the passenger door and just watches you. "Just get in the goddamn car, will ya?" Once again is voice is pure cool ice and it impresses you how he can say something so decisively, leaving no room for disobedience.

You sigh and walk toward him, stepping onto the side step of his truck. Now you're at his eye level and without thinking, your head moves to the side, hovering directly in front of his. A strand of hair has fallen from his head into his eyes and you feel the urge to push it back. The urge to run your fingers through his hair hasn't faded ever since that moment in the archives. When his eyes lower themselves and cling to your lips, you can't help but release a soft breath. His jaw clenches almost imperceptibly, but he slowly steps out of the door and moves to the side for you to sit down.

You wait for him to shut the door but it doesn't happen. Instead you suddenly feel that familiar breath on the side of your neck, dancing down your neckline. Goosebumps give away your receptiveness to his warmth, but you can't turn your head, you can't risk to look.

Joel has one arm propped on the car, one is holding the door. His shirt is pulled across his chest, revealing a slither of his tanned skin. You inhale shakily, when he whispers only for you to hear.

"And I didn't even need to ask nicely," he says. "Such a good girl."

[thewritersaddictions]

Drabbles: (COD) 141 It's Just A prank

I keep seeing this prank on my tiktok, and I'm finally up to write something, so here we go. Hope you enjoy my edition of "Telling mom no" Prank

WC- 3.5k

Ghost ( Simon Riley)

The telly in front of Simon plays the most recents rugby game. Dinner was almost ready. He could smell the sweet fragrant smell of the food that his sweetheart had been cooking. Their son and daughter watching you from the table.

Simon could hear you rambling on to your young daughter. Her babbles and groans can be heard through the house. You're also talking to your five year son. Last he knew his son was sitting on a chair watching you chop veggies. When Simon had been told by you "Go sit down Si watch the game, and zone out." With a peck to his cheek and a shove to push him out of the kitchen.

He could just barely you over the volume of the TV. Though he would pick your voice over the sound of the tv any day. Simon grabs the remote and turns the volume down just in time to hear you ask your five year old son "Could you please set the table for dinner bubba?"

There's silence for a minute, and then a harsh and strong "NO" It doesn't really register at first. Since the birth of his son, Simon had taught his son to not only respect every single person he met but especially his momma. "Bubba, please don't make me ask again." Your voice is level. Simon knows that your son didn't take his afternoon nap, so he's okay with letting it slide that he's got an attitude with his momma.

Except his feet are carrying him towards the kitchen when he hears his son shout yet again "No momma you can't make me." He really does try to curb his anger when he set foot in the kitchen.

"Why do I hear you not doin' what your momma asked of you?" Simons starts off almost immediately. He sees his sons wide with fear. He's never heard the fury of his fathers voice.

When he looks over at you though your hand is covering your mouth, brows arched. He knows that face. His sons voice cuts through the silence. "Momma said that it was gonna be funny, she said so." Your hand drops from your face and you give your son a look. "Bubba, you said you could keep a secret." You says to your son. "But Daddy" he points at Simon. "He says always be respectful to you."

You look back to your husband. A simple prank that you had seen on social media. His brow arched as he looks between you and your son. "What kinda prank is that?" Simon asks you. "It was supposed to be a funny one. Not one that makes our son turn on me right away." Your grovel. Returning to your cooking. "You can't prank me, with our own kids bird. I've taught him far to well for that to work." Simons says standing behind you. A quick peck to your cheek before looking over at your son. "You are gonna set the table though buddy." Your son is nodding his head and grabbing his daddys hand to get help with the plates and silverware.

Gaz (Kyle Garrick)

Your daughter was the apple of Kyles eye. She could do no wrong. No matter what she did, your husband was always there to help her through it, but now she's at that age where she's throwing more and more attitude. Saying things that are catching you off guard.

With Kyle being away he has yet to notice the shift. You knock on your daughters bedroom. She's in her early teens and she sensitive about everything. "What mum?" She shrieks from the other side of the door. "Can I come in?" She huffs but opens the door.

Theres an akward silence between the two of you for the first few seconds. I was thinking with your dad coming home soon, that maybe we could prank him." An olive branch, a way to mend the teenage bridge between you and your daughter.

She looks at you sideways. Cora looks me up and down, before nodding. You smile. Sitting down on the edge of her bed. Telling her your idea. One that you had gotten from tiktok. Whether it is the ability to be able to yell, and shout you or the just that she can trick her dad Cora agrees nonetheless.

Kyle comes back in just a few days. So you and cora end up setting the whole thing up. "When ever we are all together when I ask you to do something I want to just either ignore me, or… you can say one bad word. Any word you want to." Her light up. "Any bad word, and I wont get in trouble?" Cora doesn't really trust that she won't get in trouble, but with a simple nod of your head she agrees to the terms.

Two long days pass. Waking up to the cold bed is okay, but you know that Kyle will be back tonight. You grab your clothes getting ready for the day while your daughter gets ready for school. You remind her before she slips from the car that her father will be home tonight, and wave her goodbye as walks to her friends.

Kyle comes home later that night to the smell of a fresh cooked meal and you and your daughter both setting the table. The bag gets dropped by the door, toeing off his combat boots. It all happens so fast how he's got the both of you in his arms, pressing kisses to your cheeks. Breathing in a must need breathe of fresh air.

"How have my lovies been?" He asks when he finally lets go of the both of you. "Good daddy." Cora says sweetly as she sits down in front of her plate. "We've been good, just been missing you is all." You say reaching out to grab his hand. He squeezing your hand and goes to eating.

Dinner is smooth. A calmness that covers the house is warm and inviting. It's nice to have Kyle back, bring that bright smile back him even if the dark circles under his eyes show just how little sleep he managed to get will out on his mission with the 141.

You get up grabbing everyones plate, and bring them to the sink. Loading the sink to the brim with dirty dishes. You'll help her after the two of you play this prank on Kyle.

By the time you make it back to the kitchen Kyle has already left the room. His heavy footsteps can be heard in the laundry room. He always does his wash when he first gets home then switches into his sweats and an old army t-shirt that Kyle has had since Coras birth.

You nod at your daughter as you hear him walk towards your shared bedroom. "Honey can you do the dishes for me while I put away leftovers." You're shouting, louder then needed but you wanna make sure that Kyle hears this entire conversation. "I'm not doing the fucking dishes you bitch."

You aren't shocked one bit, by her choice of curse words. You know that aren't really mean, hell she's smiling right at you. But the man that is currently stomping towards the kitchen doesn't know just how hard the two of you are trying to keep your laughs from escaping your chests.

Loud, and thundering footsteps finally stop when you spot Kyle. You've never seen his face flushed with so much anger. The calm demeanor he had before was gone. Jaw set and fist flexing in his hand. "I know I didn't just hear you call your mum a bitch and say the word fuck." He's fuming, "I thought we taught you better Cora, but I guess not. Have you been treating your mother like this the entire time I've been gone? I hope to god that you haven't because if I hear that you have been…" Theres a chill in the air. You may have let this go on for a bit longer then needed, because yes her attitude has been shit but a part of you knows she just misses her father just as much as you miss your husband.

You step in finally after a look over at Coras glosses eyes. "Honey it was just a prank. She didn't mean it. Did you Cora?" You ask looking over at your daughter. She shakes her head quickly. Kyle has never once raised his voice, so maybe she's a bit scared.

"Huh?" Kyles brows arch as he looks between the two of you. His chest is heaving as he tries to gain some sort of control back over his anger. "I…Why would you… that was just plain mean." He says stumbling over his words. "We just wanted to prank you." Coras words are quiet, trembling out of her mouth.

Your husband takes a deep breath before walking over towards your daughter. "I'm sorry baby." He says sweetly and much more calmly. Her nose twitches and you know she wants to cry, Kyle must see it to cause he's wrapping her in a huge hug and squeezing her tightly in his grip.

That night your daughter crawls between you and your husband as the movies starts. "I'm sorry mum." She whispers. "Never mind that baby, just watch the movie." You mutter quietly back to her as you press a kiss to her forehead.

Price (John Price)

The middle child always is either forgotten or holds the most responsibility there is simple no in between (yes that's a pun) Regardless of that though. With John you have three children. Your oldest Jack is just about to start his university years. Your middle son Oliver who's in the half way point of secondary school, and your youngest Ivy who's just done with primary school.

John retired when you brought your only baby-girl into the world. John has been there for every single basketball game, every soccer game, and every single ballet practice, and performance. Never missing a single day of his children lifes. One night as you lay in bed Oliver comes to you with a confession. "Mum I need to tell you something." He says. His father is probably asleep watching the some sports game again. "Yeah honey what's going on?" You asks setting down your kindle. Patting the side of the bed for him to come over and sit with you.

He swallows and comes over, and for a minute its silent. "I feel like I have more chores then the Jack and Ivy." You go to start talking, but he shakes his head. "I looked at the chore chart mum, it's not fair. I have to do the dishes, clean up after them after dinner, do the laundry, my homework, and make sure that I'm getting good enough grades to continue playing sports." He's stressed you can see the signs that his father passed down to him. You think for a moment. Right now your two other kids are probably talking to friends or playing some sort of games, and you had asked poor Oli to do all the cleaning after you had put away the leftovers from dinner.

It's a few days later and many hours on TikTok later when you see a video. A mother and her kid pranking their father by saying 'no'. You thought for a moment, and went searching for more. You had yet to tell John about the stress that you both had been placing on your middle child. Later when you picked up Oli, you set out a plan. A plan that could be a prank for John, but also maybe a teaching moment for Jack, and Ivy. A plan that Oli doesn't really understand, but he understand that this will hopefully help everyone see where things might have fallen off the track.

So a week later after dinner with John, Jack, and Ivy sitting in the living room watching some tv you nod at Oli. "Oliver, clear off the table and do the dishes." Not a questions a demand. Unlike usual where Oli jumps out of his chair grabbing plates, cups, and silverware he doesn't. He looks over to the living room, and then back at you wanting reassurance. "No." A moment of silence and then "What?" Playing into this as much as possible. "I didn't make this whole mess. So I shouldn't have to do all this cleaning by myself either." His points are valid, but to get John to come into the room you have to get louder. "Why can't Jack, and Ivy do it?" He asks louder, "because Oliver Price, I asked you to do it!" You practically shout back. "And I said NO." He stomps off towards his room.

It takes John a minute but he's in the room before Oliver can make his way towards his bedroom out even out of the dining room. "what is going on right now?" He asks, brows furrowed down on his face. "I asked Oliver to do something and he keeps giving me backtalk, saying that Jack and Ivy should be helping." You say faux anger.

"Oliver." John says sternly. He may not be in the service anymore but that stern commanding voice hasn't left his body, and probably never will. "I won't do them dad. Jack and Ivy don't do anything around here. I clean all the dishes, I do all the laundry, I do everything and i still have to make sure that I have good grades so i can play sports. It's unfair especially when they get to do whatever they want to do all the time. I barely get to hang out with my friends because I don't have the time." You son says, releasing a bit of anger, and sadness more then he had when he talked to weeks ago.

John has always been an understanding man, always listened to his men in 141. Never did things that were not rational. Always wanted the truth, so the silence that surrounds the room is not something you weren't excepting. He watching his son, and listening to his two other kids chatter away in the other room.

"JACK! IVY" John yells, in a short moment the both of them are standing there staring at their father and brother and you. "What's up dad?" Jack asks. "What chores do you have?" He asks straightforward. "I um… I've got my… Some times I vacuum" "So I'm hearing a lot of nothing." John says, looking over at Ivy, he repeats his questions. "I help mum sometimes with making dinner." She says proudly. She might be in primary school, but she has no chores either. Leaving everything that doesn't get done by John or you on Oli's tiny shoulders.

"That's not a chore, since I know for a fact that you don't help your mother every day make dinner for the lot of us." John says. Looking back over at you, and then at Oli. He speaks again this time to the entire family.

"The chore chart is getting a massive overhaul. No more of this shit where Oliver is the only one doing all the chores. I don't wanna lip from any of you about this change. I'll have a new chore chart written by the weekend. From now on though Jack and Ivy you're on dish duty tonight." Theres a pause, but then with a stern and finally look Jack and Ivy are walking towards the dining room grabbing everything up to be washed in the kitchen.

"Oliver I really would have rather you told me or your mother what was going on instead of disrespecting your mother like that.""Now hold on John. He did come to me." His head turns so quickly. "I thought… well I say something on that social media app TikTok and thought that the two of us could get a laugh out of pranking you, but I always wanted to show you something that I fear might have been going on for a little to long John." You say. "So then you didn't mean to be nasty to your mum Oliver?" John asks, Oliver shakes his head "No I just was just tired of being the only one doing chores when Jack and Ivy get to have all the fun." Oliver says sweetly.

A deep sigh leaves Johns lips. He reaches out and grabs Olivers hand, "How about you come with me, and we can watch TV for the rest of the night." he offers, "but it's a school night?" Oliver counters, "How about we don't worry about that right now, how about tomorrow we take you somewhere were you can have some fun?" He asks Oliver. There's a light that beams from behind Olivers blues eyes and nods his head following his father into the living room.

Soap (Johnny McTavish)

Lucy your three year old daughter has the sass of you and the stubbornness of her father Johnny. Is supposed to be getting ready for bed, or be in bed by now. The clock reads 8pm at least good thirty minutes past her normal bed. But her pj's are on she's been read her nightly bedtime story by Johnny. Her night light lighting up the room with an ambient glow.

The tv is at a low volume, just enough that you can hear the words but not enough that if something loud happens it will wake Lucy. Except Lucy is currently standing at the edge of the couch her blanket and stuffed animal in her arms. "I can't go to sleep dada." She prays at her fathers heartstrings.

Giving him large glossy eyes. "Okay baby, lets go back to your bed." That was attempt one, Johnny had tucked her in so tightly that she must be able to fall asleep now. That was attempt one, the second time she came out of her room her hair was a bit more messed up. As if she had been tossing and turning. The netflix show that played on tv got paused for the second time. Some murder tv show that you had been waiting all day to watch with Johnny. "Mummy, back spider?" She asks.

She loves your long nails that Johnny pays to get re-done every single two weeks. Likes when you whisper to her and drag your longs nails up her back. You follow her to her room her hand interlock in yours. You sit on the edge of the bed, while Lucy falls straight on her face, her back exposed to you.

"X marks the spot. Dot, dash, dot, dash, question mark. spiders crawling up your back, spiders crawling down your back. Cool breeze, tight squeeze now you've got the chills." You says as your fingers move along her back. Her breathing as gone steady. You wait a few more minutes drawing a few extra circles and hearts into her back before returning to your husband in the living room.

But apparently third times is the charm. When she comes waddling back out only a few minutes later. "Lucy you need to go to bed now sweetie." Johnny says staring at his sleepy daughter. "I don't wanna!" She shrieks. The clock reads almost 830pm. And this yelling and shouting will only last so long before she ends up tiring herself out. "Hey don't go shoutin' now." Johnny mutters as he gets up to take her back to her room.

The grippy bottoms of her onesies allows her to grip the floor and run out of her reach of your husband long arms. "Lucy, you need to go to bed we have special things we are doing tomorrow baby girl." Your husband tries. But Lucy shakes her head not agreeing with anything. "Baby you gotta go to bed." "I DON'T WANNA." She says turning her head with every word. Johnny can't help but look over at you. "She's got all your sass lovie." You shake your head, "But all of your stubbornness." You throw back. He groans as he picks up Lucy. "How about we just stay here on the couch." He offers. Lucy hums in Johnnys arms and snuggles into her chest. Her snores fill the room and the tv show turns back on at least until you look over at Johnny and say. "I hope you know she was out when I gave her those back scratches, but she wanted to play a prank on you, so this was it." Sleep invades your words, but Johnny doesn't really seem to care about his daughters silly little outburst, or how it relates to her and you wanting to prank him.

"That's okay lovie, just watch your tv show." He says combing his fingers through Lucys hair. The next time he looks over at the end of another episode, not only is Lucy asleep, but so are you. Cuddled into his other arm. Blanket thrown over your legs. He'll stay right there until he either get's kicked in the face by his daughter moving in her sleep so much, or when he wakes up to pain in the bottom on his neck.

[dani-onearth]

Merciful & Misnamed

Kylo Ren x fem reader

Part One - [Part Two] - [Part Three] - [Part Four] - [Part Five] Summary: You're his prisoner now, and he doesn't know how to look at you without becoming someone he swore he killed. You're still here and he thinks he saved you but the silence between you is thick with old affection and love. How do you mourn someone that's standing right there? Warnings: Pure angst! Strong language, shame induced eating behaviors Word Count: 5.12k Authors note: I haven't written fanfic in years but I just watched all of Star Wars again and Kylo Ren got me thinking... I tried making the reader sassy, hurt maybe. English isn't my first language and tenses get me really confused still (I gotta learn by now). Also, if I got any lore wrong please let me know! I'm not deep into the fandom but I'd love to learn.

It's funny what can entertain you after a while. Sitting alone in a dark and cold corner helped you find a pile of old dust; handy for doodling on the concrete floor before it gets blown away by a sneeze or stepped on by your dirty boots. You've been keeping count of the days as best you can, but the troopers took your wristcom when you were captured approximately twelve days ago. You wish you'd had some other way of timekeeping that didn’t warrant rubbing your fingernail on the wall until it marked. Now you have no choice but to bite at your bleeding nail when the dust gets boring. You count stormtroopers like sheep when they pass your cell door through the sliver of a window you’re lucky to have.

You wonder if your friends are still in the cells next to you. If they get the same joyless ration bars once a day. The same five minutes in the refresher–ten every third day when they give you a fresh prisoner's uniform and access to a brutally cold shower.

How generous.

Twelve days on this ship and you haven't spoken a word to anyone. Not a stormtrooper, a general, a captain, or the damned Kylo Ren. Thank the stars. The masked monster has quickly become a dark plague through the galaxy. All you see is the covered face of a coward. A traitor. The being that engulfed the man you used to know and turned him into a greedy and power hungry and a soulless shell of a person. You hoped you never had to see him again.

Too bad you can feel him.

Near, somewhere. A pull from all directions. It was agonizing knowing he was on this ship with you. Did he know you were here too?

The buzz from your cell door turned your head to see two stormtroopers at your door, holding restraints.

“Prisoner. Come with us.”

Three resistance members in front and two behind you walked alongside a stormtrooper. Heads hung low, trudging their feet along the metal floors, forced back into the dirty clothes you were captured in. The U-wing to Takodana was just supposed to be a supply run. Quick and easy—you were excited to go and barter for new boots. Instead, your ship was taken by the first order. They killed half your shipmates, and the other half were here with you; walking in a straight line down the empty corridors… until you halted, jerked back by the arm of your appointed guard. You stood on a platform in front of dozens of stormtroopers and generals.

“Against the wall.” One ordered, and you reluctantly had to agree. You weren't necessarily in a position to run. Not with a dozen blasters surrounding you in the hands of the enemy. You friends did the same.

The wall was cold and smooth. You look over at the pilot from your ship, standing next to you in defeat. “Malik.” You whispered as quietly as you could, but your voice was hoarse from how little you’ve used it recently. “What's going on?” You asked, but you knew what this was. The holocam pointed directly at the lineup of you rebels. You were going to be a message to the galaxy. Join or be killed.

Malik only opened his mouth before a march was heard down the hallway. Loud steps, commanding steps. The sea of troopers parted to reveal Captain Phasma and General Hux in his perfectly pressed garments and shiny new shoes. Wearing a smirk you wanted to peel off you a dull knife as you stood restrained, likely by his orders.

He laid his eyes on all of you, his lip turning up before he started. “Traitors to the order. Enemies against stability. Do you feel proud? Do you feel… accomplished?” He chuckled.

Disgusting.

“Your so-called resistance is dying. It’s scattered and desperate. Your rebel friends will call you martyrs. Heroes, even.”

“We’re not fighting to be remembered, Hux. We’re fighting so we don’t have to live under your flag.” The words tumbled out of your mouth before you had the chance to stop.

Hux fixes on you, stepping over to be in front of you, only inches away. “Then you’ll die under it.”

You charge forward only enough so he’d stumble back; a stormtrooper yanking you back against the wall just as quickly.

Hux cleared his throat, stepping away when he heard footsteps. Footsteps that rattled in your brain. They echoed and pulled at your chest. The familiar feeling turned your gaze away from Hux to see a dark helmet floating through the parting crowd of white ones until it stood in front of the wall of rebels. Kylo Ren, hands clasped behind his back, draped in heavy wool and woven fibers.

“These are all the rebels captured, General Hux?” The mechanical growl still sounded like Ben. The voice modulator did its best, but it was a voice you used to seek out; a voice you hadn’t heard in almost six years.

“Yes. Four were killed upon capture. Seven left.” Hux responds. “Today, the first order sends a message.”

The black helmet scanned the rebels and you know he sees you now. Kylo Ren has gone still. Your eyes are locked on the slit in his mask where his eyes would be. You won’t look away, you refuse to. Your anger for him is tired and heavier than rage. You’re sure he can see that. You’re sure he can feel it.

“These seven traitors–”

“–Six traitors.” Kylo cuts off Hux who glances sideways. “The fourth one. Remove her.”

“Sir?” Phasma turns, uncertain.

Hux turns his back to the lineup as a flicker of uncertain movement passes through the troops. Even your friends shifted beside you.

“Now.” He says, sharper.

You didn’t move until two troopers closed in on you and you jerked back, almost resisting them. Not because you wanted to die… but you didn’t want to be saved by him.

Hux grits his teeth at Kylo. “May I remind you, this operation was given by High Command. To revoke the sentence of one of these rebels would be–"

“This is not a discussion, General Hux.” Kylo swivels to face you, fighting against the guards, grunting as you use all of the fight inside of you. “Take her back to her cell.”

“No!” You scream. Your rebel friends begin to resist themselves before forcefully being brought to their knees. “Let me go!” Your screams mean nothing to the army of troops as the two dragged you away. You heard Hux call for the broadcast to start, the troopers got their blasters out, and Ren just watched as you were dragged away with your feet kicking before he just… walked away. Sounds travel through these halls. You learned that as you heard Hux giving his speech, and then six echoing shots.

You didn’t stop fighting, even after they threw you back on the familiar dusty floor. You pounded on the door, screaming, crying. You knew there was no point. Your head hurt. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t blink. The silence was louder than the executions themselves. The ones you fought beside, trained with, shared your rations with. Gone. Not in battle, but lined up like fucking cattle while you were dragged away like some untouchable exception.

It didn’t feel like mercy. It was theft. Like your life was paid for with theirs. You had no say in this trade off. This wasn’t compassion from Ben, it was possession from Kylo, a man you do not wish to know.

Days went by. You wouldn’t know how many since you stopped keeping track and the cell lights didn’t dim at night, but rations slid through like a cycle and three uneaten bars stacked up by the door.

You assumed he'd come by and say something to you. Maybe even just to shoot you himself. You wished he did but stopped wondering why you were alive. Stopped pretending it meant anything. Because he never came.

Until now.

The door hissed open. You sat clutching your knees and mindlessly pushing the dust from side to side. You knew who was there, blocking the light from the overheads like a dark storm cloud. You could feel that he was just there, at the door, looking at your back and hoping you’d face him.

But you wouldn't. They’d have to break your neck to make you say something first. The silence was only in your ears, but the force that connected you both rattled inside.

“It’s cold in here.”

You barked out a dry laugh and spoke into the corner you faced. “Three days. Three days and that's what you open with?”

Silence.

“Did you forget which cell you left me in or were you hoping I’d be grateful when you finally showed your face?” You turned your head to see him, masked as ever behind the doorway. He couldn't even be inside the room with you. “Or your fucking helmet, I guess.”

“This is who I am now.” He stepped through the threshold of the door and you stood up to look at him better.

“Is it? I don’t think it is. This is who you’re pretending to be, Ben.”

“Ben is dead.”

“You think hiding your face makes you more than what you were? Does it make what you did easier?” You ignored his last words. “You’re not powerful in that… thing. You’re just a coward that couldn’t face me without it.”

Of course he had nothing to say. He doesn’t even know why he did it. Ben is dead, is what he tells himself… what he tells anybody who dared ask about him. But looking at you, it’s not how Kylo Ren should look at a Rebel. It's not indifference or rage. It’s how Ben would look at you, before. The girl he would sneak out of his chambers with back at the Jedi temple; and he’d do it with a smile he tried his best to hide, even jogging to get to your secret spot quicker.

You felt the softness in him, but to hell with that. You felt nothing for this beast right now. You knew he knew that. You couldn't ever hide how you felt from him, it was impossible. You stood away from him, but made sure he had to look you in the eye now.

“You were spared.” He spoke

“I was kept.” It came out like venom. “Was that supposed to mean something?”

“It meant something to me.” He said it so softly.

You toed closer to him, unblinking. “Then say it without the mask.” And you waited. Stared. Hoped he would, against your better judgement. But he was rooted in his stance and the helmet stayed on. All you could give him was a scoff and a whisper. “That’s what I thought.”

You sank down on the hard metal slab you were supposed to sleep on.

“I saved you.” His pitch is now demanding. He came closer to you with harsher steps. “I saved you.” His pointed finger was a verdict, an accusation. His demeanor changed and now you were talking to Kylo Ren.

“No.” You said, sitting up. “Ben did. Kylo just wants to be thanked for it.”

He froze. Something in him twitched and for a second, you thought he'd lash out and the room would explode in a force-filled rage.

Instead, he straightened. Colder now. Mask heavier somehow. “Ben is dead.”

All this rage. All this pain and agony, and somehow all you wanted was to see behind the small plane where his eyes would be. His eyes. But you couldn’t. “Then so is whatever part of me cared.”

He stood in place for a breath, two breaths, then pivoted slowly to face the door. His cape dragged an arc across the cell floor, but didn’t storm off. Not yet. His helmet tilted down at the uneaten ration bars. A sneer crept into his voice. “You think starving in a cell makes you nobel? That it’s going to prove something? All it proves is that I should’ve left you with the rest of them.”

“Then why didn’t you?” You asked to the back of his head, slowly standing up. “If you wanted me dead, I would be. If you wanted me grateful, you would've never left me here to rot. So what is it? What do you want, Kylo?!” You said a name that meant nothing to you—like it was a joke—voice rising with every syllable. “To be… forgiven? Worshipped? You said you spared me and then walked away. Now you’re angry? Because I didn’t make your mercy feel… what? Worth it?” By the time you felt it, tears had already carved a path down your cheeks. You wondered when they started.

His gaze lingered on the untouched rations, piled up like an insult. Without a word, he lifted a hand and the bars rose, trembling in the air, wrappers crinkling under the invisible pressure before they just snapped with a hard crack.

You flinched.

He flung them as forcefully as he could against the wall, each one exploding into useless, powdered debris. Protein crumbs smeared across the durasteel wall; a tantrum pretending to be power.

He didn't say a thing, or look at you again. He just walked out, cloak flowing behind him into the harsh light of the hallway, rage trailing like smoke that was cut off by the slam of your cell door.

You pressed your lips together to keep in your shock. Not fear, because it was so… childish. All that power and he used it to throw a tantrum over prison food. It was just so small.

And he was the one who was supposed to spare you? No. He didn’t spare you. He just couldn't bring himself to kill you. And now because you weren't grateful, he’d rather see you starve than feel like he doesn't have control.

Coward.

You hate to admit that you ate the bits of protein crumbs off the floor, but you found yourself picking hairs off of little pieces. You stared at them for hours, like they just belonged to the floor now. You tried pressing tighter against the wall and closing your eyes, pretending the ache in your stomach wasn't real. But it was. It twisted and burned.

And it wasn’t just hunger, it was shame. Shame because you knew you were gonna do it.

You wish more than anything you had time to stand up. To straighten out from your hunched position, finger curled around a stale, dusty, sticky crumbling piece of ration bar from the corner.

You froze for a moment, then sat up, slow and deliberate, but didn’t stand—and didn't drop the food. Just turned and looked at him.

He stood in the doorway, half-lit by the corridor behind him. Helmet on, hands by his sides.

“What do you want now?” You asked, voice rough.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he gazed down at the crumbs, the dust, the scattered remains of his pathetic destruction. Maybe his posture shifted but you couldn't tell.

“There’s a proper meal waiting.” He said at last.

Finally, you stood to your feet, wiping your hands against each other hoping to regain your dignity. “Here to feed the animals yourself now? Your little stunt got you demoted?”

“It’s in my quarters. You’re invited.”

“Oooh, invited, huh?” You sang, taunting his olive branch. “I don’t need another handout from you, Ren.”

“You clearly do. You have ten minutes to make yourself look presentable.”

You noticed his boot crunch under some of your ration as he walked out, leaving you to scoff at the closed door. “Sure, I’ll… make sure to brush the dirt off my knees.”

You looked down at yourself. Torn sleeves, stained pants, crumbs still caught in the corner of your mouth.You only got to wipe some of it off before two guards came through the door. Behind them a third figure–a young officer who didn’t speak, just held out a folded bundle of clothing.

“What’s this?” You asked, not taking the pressed linens right away.

“For the meal.” He said simply.

You laugh dryly. “Funny. Does it come with a fork to stab him with?”

That didn’t land. The officer didn't even hint at a smile.

“Kidding… I guess they don’t brainwash you all with a sense of humor.”

He twitches his lip. “You have ten minutes.”

They left swiftly, leaving you to look at the garments. Black, clean, simple. No rank, no insignia. It wasn’t meant to make you look beautiful. It was meant to make you look harmless or worse—like you belonged there.

You were brought through hallways and corridors, hands cuffed behind your back. You peek into any room you can, hoping that when you escape back to the rebellion one day you could give them at least some intel. That you weren't put through all of this for nothing. The robes were looser than expected, and you kept the sleeves rolled at the elbow, just in case you might still need to throw a punch or two. Rolling up the pant legs didn’t stay the way you hoped as you tripped constantly with the rough hand gripping your forearm.

You can only assume you’ve arrived when you’re standing in front of a set of tall, seamless doors. The guards stop, one reaching toward a panel. You barely have time to readjust your footing before the door slides open with a sharp hiss and you trip.

Your foot had caught the extra length of fabric on your ankle. You groan as you lay on your side, your own hands unable to help you up. From the ground, you see Kylo stand up sharply from his seat immediately as the trooper hauls you up by your elbow roughly. Kylos elbows shot back protectively.

You stagger again trying to right yourself. “Hey—watch it.” You hissed, yanking your arm back. “I can walk from here, thank you.”

Kylo stood near the far wall, half lit by vertical stripes of cool light that ran along the interior of the room. The table was set. Two chairs. Two plates. No guard or aids inside. Just him sitting alone at a really long table.

Just Kylo.

He started to walk toward you with deliberate steps and your breath caught in your throat as his posture shifted… the tension in his shoulders. Subtle, but sharp. A tell you recognized from another life.

“Uncuff her.” The dangerous grumble from his helmet had your breath caught in your throat.

“She–”

“Uncuff her, and leave.” Brutal.

They didn’t question it again; they just released your hands and walked out. You didn't say thank you, and he didn’t expect you to. You straightened out your robes, eyes flickering toward the set up. You could feel his eyes on you even if his helmet made it impossible to actually see them.

“So,” You started, glaring, “no other guests?”

“No.” He stated simply. “This isn’t a performance”

You scoff. “Could've fooled me.” You look around. The dim lighting, the impeccable symmetry of the forks and knives, the domed plates, everything just seemed perfect. “This all looks so… theatrical.” You stood behind your chair all the way across from him, but didn’t sit. “Is this supposed to be some sort of twisted date?” Your chair was so far from his, all the way on the other end.

He says nothing. Shocker.

“I mean, you wanted me all dressed up, right? To eat like nothing happened. Like I'm not still tasting dirt from my cell floor. Like the people I love didn't just get executed for being exactly where I was standing.”

He stares before lowering himself down into his seat. “Sit.”

You held his stare for a long moment before doing the same. “You’re used to people doing as you say.” You unfold your napkin. “I bet somewhere deep inside you miss when someone doesn't flinch.”

“You flinched earlier.”

You smile without any humor behind it. “So you were watching.”

Another pause. You didn’t know Ben to have such a stoic presence. Such little humor, wit, likability. Sure, he was always a little more rebellious and defiant than any of the other Jedi’s, but it was charming. Who is this man? What did he do to the man you loved?

Before long, you had something else to say. More questions. “So what’s all this really about? You drag me out of my cell, have six people executed, bring me here, feed me, clothe me. Why?”

He fiddled his finger together, posture confident and distant. “You ask a lot of questions.”

“Want me to be civil? Hm?” You lean forward, elbow on the table. “Fine. No problem, sir. I’ll be civil. Let’s talk. Lets act like, I dunno, just two people who used to know each other. Tell me, Kylo Ren, how does a Jedi turn into this.” You gesture to the full monstrosity of him. The mask. The robes. The looming silence and refusal to converse. “And in exchange, I’ll tell you how it feels to be the one left behind.”

“I was never going to be the Jedi they wanted.” He said finally. “Not like Luke Skywalker—”

“—No one was asking you to be Luke, you just needed to be yourself.”

“Myself?” He tutted behind the vocoder. “Explain that to me. My grandfather was Darth Vader.” He stood now, pacing menacingly behind his roughly discarded chair. “It’s inside of me. It always has been. I spent my whole life being warned, watched, judged. Like they were just waiting for the day to come. I didn’t fall like you think I did, I stopped pretending. That’s not weakness. That’s power.”

You stood too now, a lump in your throat swelling. “Power? That’s running. You ran from the only people who ever gave a damn about you.”

“I made a choice.”

“You threw away who you were.”

“Who I was was a lie.” He slammed his hand on the table, rattling and skewing the perfectly placed settings.

Maybe you saw him then. Not Ben, Kylo. It wasn’t just arrogance, but a man so desperate to matter in this galaxy that he was willing to destroy everything to prove he was worth something.

Your voice dropped. “Is that what this is about?” You wiped a stray tear, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. “You needed to be someone so badly you’d burn down civilization to leave a fucking footprint?”

“I am someone.”

“What you are is a coward in a helmet.” You’re basically on the table at this point, arms splayed, torso leaned completely over your plate, knocking over your glass at some point.

The lights overhead flickered, the force rippled across the room, it was unmistakable—like a giant astroid just passed over you. Your throat went dry as you watched him steady himself slowly before he sat again. You stayed standing, breath quick and tempered.

“You’re angry.” He said.

“I’m furious.”

“At me.”

You cackled. “No, I'm just yelling at the wall.”

“Then say it.” You could hear his gritted teeth.

“Oh, you want the truth?”

“Always.”

“I missed you.” That cracked something in your voice; in your chest. “And I hated you for it. I used to lay in my bed and just dream that you would come back and tell me it was all a lie, or that—that you were a goddamn spy, that this,” you waved to the mask, “was some sick, twisted, disgusting dream. But now I’m here. And you’re real.”

His hands twitched on the table. “I gave you everything.” He said it lowly. “I warned you not to follow me or look for me—”

“—Warned me?! You abandoned me—”

He shot up. “—I spared you. Twice now!”

“And you want a medal for that? Because you didn’t slice my head off at the temple or gun me down on a broadcast?”

“You are alive because of me.”

“And thousands are dead because of you.”

Enraged, he lifted decorative rock across the room, it flew to a wall and broke into a million pieces with a yell, just a few feet away from where you were. Silence slammed down like a wave between the two of you, both breathing hard.

After a moment, he grumbled quietly. “You don’t understand. There’s more work than you know. The Jedi—”

“Your mother would be disgusted.” The words tumbled out of your mouth in disdain, you couldn’t stop yourself.

“Don’t.” He warned.

“And your father—”

“I said, don’t.” His voice rose, but it was the power behind it that made the air chill that sent goosebumps down your body.

You tumbled back, bits of rock crunching at your feet.

His helmet tilted sideways at you and he slowly made his way toward your side of the table. “You’re afraid of me.”

“I’m afraid of what’s left of you. I don’t even know who you are anymore. You’re not the boy who used to kiss me by the temple garden. You’re not the one who used to hold me like you’d lose me. You’re not the person I fell…”

You caught yourself, but it was too late.

He stepped forward, reaching you slowly and menacingly. He’s only inches away and you can smell him. That same mix of leather and pine. Of all the things he had cast away that scent remained.

“Finish it.” He said it, quieter this time. A command, but not a cold one.

You bite your cheek, throwing daggers into his helmet with your stare, but your heart thudded against your will. “No.”

“Say it.”

“I won’t.” You whispered. “Because he is dead. And I’m standing in front of the thing that killed him.”

He didn’t speak. Didn’t move. He just let the silence settle like dust. His mask tilted downward just slightly, as if he couldn’t bear to look at you… or maybe as if he was. You even saw yourself reflected in his dark visor. Pale, tired, trembling.

Then, he reached down; no sharp movements or flourish. He just lifted the dome in front of you, revealing the warm steam of real food beneath it. He left the cloche by your plate and moved back to his seat, sitting with an invisible weight.

“Eat.” He said.

You didn’t move. “Why?”

“Because I told you to.” He burrowed in his seat, lifting the cloche in front of him.

You didn’t touch your food. Not yet. He brought his fork to his plate but didn’t do anything with it, just let the silence stretch.

Then you said it. “How are you going to eat with that helmet on?”

He paused. The question wasn’t… biting. Not really. If anything, it was soft, and tired, and a little sad. He looked at you—through you, rather.

Your voice was quiet. “I won’t eat if you don’t. Not if you can’t even show me your face.” He didn’t move, so you leaned forward. “I deserve to see who I’m talking to now.”

A pause. A breath. And then, his gloved hands moved slowly, reaching up to the edge of his helmet, unclasping the lock. The soft hiss of the seal tightened your throat and he hesitated, just for a second. His head bowed like a man offering something he shouldn’t be.

When it came off, that weight was shaking. His face… older, sharper, eyes darker than in your memories of Ben, but still absolutely his eyes. A scar now split his cheek, and his jaw tightened when he saw you staring at it. But, it was him. It was Ben. Hardened and haunted.

He placed the helmet on the table.

“Hi,” You barely whispered, but he looked away like the word had burned him. He hadn't looked at you for more than a few seconds without his protective shield.

“You smell the same as before. Did you know that?” He still won’t look. “It’s stupid, I know. It’s just that it’s the first thing I noticed when you got close. Like… the force wasn't what told me you were there… my senses did. I hated that.”

He swallowed, silence folding over itself once again.

“I thought… I thought I was doing what I had to.” His voice unfiltered. More human, rougher somehow. It really was him. “Back then, at the temple. I left because I thought no one really wanted me as I was.”

“I did.” You whispered, and he finally looked up. At you. No mask, no persona, just eyes that used to hold everything in the galaxy when he looked at you.

He sighed. “You were the only thing that made me feel like I belonged there… and that terrified me.”

You swallowed an ache in your chest. “Because if you lost me, then you had nothing left.”

“And I lost you anyway.”

You blinked back whatever was threatening to spill. You thought you were done crying over him. “You didn’t lose me. You never would have lost me. You just gave me away.”

Silence. He didn’t correct you. Instead, he looked down at his plate of food like it would save him. Then you heard him again.

“You used to talk in your sleep.” You blinked at his sentence, his voice low. “When our bunk rotations lined up, you’d hum sometimes. Or say half your assignments out loud, like your brain wouldn’t shut off. You’d mumble about lightsaber forms or supplies.” That memory was so far back it felt like a dream. As he continued, he somehow got softer. “But there was one night… you said my name.” He looked up, brows twisting upward. “Not just once, you said it three times. Like you were afraid I wasn’t there. And I remember I walked over to your bed and touched your hand so you’d stop. I held it in your sleep.”

You swallowed, not realizing you'd gone completely still.

“I don’t even know why I’m telling you this.” He shook his head like he was ashamed of the confession. “It’s not like it matters now.”

“It matters to me.” He seemed startled at your gentle voice. “So, why say it now? After all these years?”

“Because I still hear it.”

You felt the crack in your chest and your shoulders slumped, eyes glazing over the food so you wouldn’t have to look at him.

“Ben,” your voice could have been mistaken for a sigh, “Ben was the one who loved me.”

“I never stopped.” He couldn’t take back those words, even if he didn’t mean to say them. They hung there between plates and a ruined past, among the people you were now. You looked up to glassy eyes, still holding yours. “Will you eat with me?” Spoken like he wasn’t worth it.

You hesitated, but silently reached for the fork. The first bite burned your throat on the way down, but you didn’t stop.

[Part Two] Note: I forgot how fun writing fanfics are. Thanks for reading! My Google search history is full of questions wondering what the hell a shower is called in this universe and what kind of ships they would have taken or what kind of planet would have supplies for the Rebels. I have so much to learn... how exciting!