#It is not an appropriate hour of the morning to be awake right now

[roadkill-punk]

It's kind of tragic, in a sense, that iterators were made with so much of their creators logic and desires and yet they were left with none of the resources to satisfy such things.

Do you think they crave touch? Family? Do you think they have to have any hope of connection stomped out of them lest they rebel against what they were made for?

Were they ever afraid to feel, or to be outside of what they were supposed to be? If they ever dared to desire, would they have to hide it?

Do you think they saw their creators sometimes as family, and did the abuse hurt just that much more because of it?

Were they like children, when they were born? Did they process the world through the lens of uncertainty and naivete and was that taken advantage of to mold them into the desired product?

Or were they conscious and self aware in full, was is overwhelming, being alive for the first time?

Or were did they process things entirely as machines, did they only learn to be people after seeing it happen around them, and then did they ever regret becoming more alive than they ever needed to be? That they ever became enough to feel hurt and to hurt others?

If they were just machines at birth, with only the capability of consciousness, were the desired traits injected into them with thoughts and ideas and interactions in their formative early years and was anything else just a byproduct of trying to build a person from scratch? Did their creators even want them to feel, to be conscious and alive, or was that just a necessity to create the desired machine?

Did they even care that their creations were alive?

Did any of them grieve, when they left the children of their labor behind? Were they grieved for in turn when they were gone? Do their echoes ever try to reach out, to let them know they aren't alone, to find comfort in connection that before was so condemned?

If they tried hard enough, could they reach?

Could they find each other?

Would it be comforting to iterators that the remnants of their creators could find them, or would it bring more feelings of rage, of sorrow, of painful memories and grief and hurt from the years they were used and the years more they were abandoned?

Did they ever truly mean anything to each other?

[cupidsdolll]

The Feeling Came Late (I’m Still Glad I Met You)

pairings: grumpy!college student! Harry x fem! sunshine!reader

summary: Harry hates Y/N, it seems like it's been like that forever. He's quick to insult and correct her even when she's right, he's just always been the only one to pick on her no matter what she does. She doesn't understand why it's like this between them or what she did to make him dislike her so much, but what if it's all just a lie?

overall warnings: slow burn, eventual smut, sexual tension, kind of enemies to lovers, angst, alcohol consumption and drug mentions, foul language, Harry is a major asshole in this tbh, heavy on the grumpy x sunshine in this.

chapter 2/? (wc: 3.4k)

masterlist

001 | 01 | 02

- - - -

Chapter 2: Surprise, Surprise

Harry wakes up to the sound of his phone dinging and he grumbles as he sits up and stretches. He looks around and stops his tired gaze at the small window next to his bed. It's dark with just a hint of sunlight beginning to cut through the glass windows, this is definitely not the scenery he's used to when he awakes from his slumber. Groggily he grabs his phone with one hand and rubs his left eye with the other, turns on the phone and hisses as he squints. 

He quickly turns the brightness of the screen down to a manageable setting and mumbles under his breath when he sees it's a little past six in the morning. 

"Who the fuck is awake right now and why are they trying to talk to me. Someone better be fucking dying." The message is from an unknown number, the numbers staring at him tauntingly. 

///

Unknown: hey. it's y/n. i got your number from principal Oscar. lmk whenever works best for you and i'll do my best to arrange my schedule otherwise! :)

— — — 

He grumbles once more about the timing of the text and stares at the screen trying to think of an appropriate response. He could and absolutely wants to just leave her on read and never talk to her again. That seems like the most appropriate since she interrupted his sleep, why is she even up this early? But maybe he should show a sliver of compassion and reply to the text briefly before going back to sleep. 

He decides on not texting back, simply because all this thinking of replying, responses and times is making his head hurt, so he sets his phone back onto the small wooden table beside his bed and clambers back into the warm cocoon of his blankets. Wrapping himself  in the thick blanket, he sighs blissfully as his head relaxes into the soft cushiony bed. He begins to close his eyes and go back to sleep, the pleasant warm feeling of sleep very quickly approaching him. 

Just as soon as he gets comfortable and almost falls asleep, his phone dings once more. He grumbles as he throws the blanket off of him and grabs his phone once again. The same numbers teasing him as another text comes through. 

///

Unknown: this is harry right? i'm so sorry if this isn't! 

////

He rolls his eyes as he mumbles, his fingers typing away on the keyboard as he sends his response. 

Harry: Yes, it's me. In case you haven't noticed, it's five in the morning. I was asleep.

///

He gets a response almost immediately, as if she was staying in the chat waiting for a response.

Unknown: yes i know! why are you still sleep? i like to get my day started early!

Harry: Because no one in their right mind is up this early.

Unknown: sorry for waking you! just wanted to see what times and days work best for you. :)

Harry: Give me a couple hours.

Unknown: okay! have a good nap! :)

— — — 

He mumbles again as he sets his phone grumpily back on the table, wrapping himself back into his blanket just to find it's not as warm anymore. He mutters under his breath, silently complaining about her up so early and choosing to annoy him so early as well, and to top it off she made him lose the warmth of his blankets. He wraps himself up in the blanket and lays back down, resting his head on the soft pillow as he closes his eyes. 

Opening his eyes once more a couple hours later, he gets up and stretches once again. The muscles in his back pops smoothly and he groans softly. He gets out of his bed and quickly makes his bed,  wrinkles sit in the middle of the blanket as he sets his pillow on top, but he can’t bring himself to care. He feels much better after getting another couple hours of sleep. 

He heads into the bathroom and relieves his bladder, sighing in relief as it empties. Shutting the lid down, he flushes the toilet and heads to the sink so he can wash his hands. After he's finished, he brushes his hair and puts it in a man bun.

Walking over to the small dresser where he keeps his clothes, he opens his needed drawers and pulls out an outfit. Settling on a white Rolling Stones t-shirt and some black skinny jeans, he gets dressed and makes sure he puts on his signature rings. Once he's done with that, he sprays his Tom Ford cologne and grabs his phone, responding to the very few notifications he does have and stares at Y/N's name in his message list. 

Her simple text stares at him, somehow politely demanding a response from a couple hours ago. He huffs and mutters 'fucks sake' under his breath as he clicks on it and begins to type out his response.

///

Harry: I'm available anytime

/// 

Not too long after, just long enough for him to set his phone in his pocket and slip on his brown Chelsea boots, his phone dings. 

///

Y/N: okay! um how about tomorrow around 6 at the library?

— — — 

Harry laughs dryly at her enthusiasm as he sends a plain thumbs up, the yellow emoji a stark contrast in the very one sided text conversation, and afterwards he heads out the small bedroom in his dorm and heads to the front door. He passes the various pictures of his roommate and his girlfriend and a couple of pictures showcasing his orange kitten, Delilah, in various moments. She was wrapped up in a soft towel from the day Harry brought her home, and other moments where he thought she looked pretty and decided to capture the moment. 

All the pictures are neatly hung in a long cardboard frame, colorful tacks adding a pop of color to the otherwise boring wall of pictures. The small hallway leads to a basic living room, a simple gray futon sits alongside the cream colored wall with a modern artistic sketch hanging above it, a dark brown bookshelf holding all their movies and the very few books and textbooks they happen to own is placed next to the futon, and a small dresser underneath a decently sized tv. 

In the corner of the living room area sits a small gray cat bed and Delilah lays there peacefully sleeping in a little ball, her tail twitching occasionally. The ends of Harry's lips begin to curl upwards at the sight as he slowly walks over to the small dresser designated just for her. He silently opens the top drawer and opens the small can containing her food. The smell quickly floods his nose and he grimaces as he walks over to her food bowl and pouring it in there, silently gagging as it squelches into the bowl. 

He throws away the now empty can in the small trash can and grabs her water bowl walking over to the dresser once again and fills it with a small water bottle sitting in the top drawer. He sets it down beside the food one carefully because he doesn't feel like cleaning up water right now and walks back to the dresser. He opens the second one and grabs a few of her favorite toys and sets them under the coffee table in the living room, allowing her something to do while he's gone and turns on the tv. Quickly pulling up her favorite tv show - Animal Planet - he walks over to her and very gently rubs the top of her head. He coos at her softly to coax the sleepy kitten awake. 

Delilah stretches and yawns as she opens her eyes, focusing on Harry crouching above her, she lets out a tired but happy meow as she nuzzles her face into Harry's hand. 

"Good morning, sweet girl. I gotta get to school but you got everything set up for you, just how you like. I love you and I'll be back soon." He says with a small laugh as he gives the small kitten a couple extra pets and gets back up, stretching slightly as he heads to the door, making sure to grab his signature leather jacket from the futon as he opens the door and heads out. 

— — — 

It doesn't take him long to head to the campus thanks to his dorm being a short drive from the campus. He parks his car in an empty space nearest the school and he sits in the car after he turns it off. He watches her as she walks to the bike rack, her long hair flowing gently behind her as she walks due to the wind blowing. She's dressed in an olive green sweater and dark blue Levi pants that flare at the end, she'd pair it with some white Nike Air Forces, a medium sized white tote bag and a matching olive green thin belt, he can see the small shimmer of her jewelry shine when the sun hits it as she ties her bike to the small rack. 

He turns the key to shut off his car and opens the door, slowly stepping outside the car as he puts on his jacket. He closes the door with a soft slam and locks it, the beep alerting the girl as she turns around, her hair briefly swishing in front of her face as she turns. He watches as she frowns in anticipation of a snarky remark but returns to normal when it doesn't happen. He slowly makes his way to the entrance, purposely avoiding eye contact with her as he grows closer. He hopes she gets the hint to leave him the hell alone, and wants to keep their interactions to an absolute minimum. 

"Hey!" He hears her voice ring out from behind her but his pace doesn't falter, he actually starts walking just a tad bit faster in an attempt to get inside before she reaches him. He makes it to the top of the steps before he feels a soft hand grip his shoulder and a tug, signaling him to turn around. He slowly turns around, face deadpanned and he takes a deep breath. 

"What?" 

"Any place specific you want to meet in the library?" She asks softly and he shakes his head as he turns around swiftly and starts his journey into the school once again. He can feel her presence behind him and his frown begins to form. 

He chooses to ignore her as they walk, the chatter of the other students in the hall filling their ears as they continue. One of Harry's friends, Alex, walks up to Harry with a big smile as he pays his shoulder and glares at Y/N. 

"How you doin' Haz?" He asks and Harry's frown only deepens at the unwanted conversation. 

"Not now Alex." He shakes his head as he heads to his locker. He can hear Alex scoff as he walks away but he can still feel her presence behind him. 

He scoffs lightly as he gets to his locker, one ringed hand reaching up to twist the little knob to the correct numbers and opens the door. He quickly grabs a textbook and slams it shut and he walks away, leaving a hurt and confused Y/N standing at the locker. 

— — — 

She can't help but frown at Harry's more than usual grumpy behavior as she heads to her own locker, true enough she was the main reason why he's so grumpy but honestly how was she to know he’d still be sleeping? It’s not her fault that she just loves helping people! She should know better than to assume they'd be friends simply because she's tutoring him, but she assumed they'd at least be better than this. She hoped he would be somewhat tolerable, a very silly thought of hers because when is he ever tolerable? She doesn’t know how it came to be this way. She can remember a time where the two of them were cordial and even dared to say the best of friends, but then something changed and she wishes she knew what it was.

She wishes she could just go back in time and watch the two of them under a microscope to see what went wrong, to figure out why he hates her. She misses him terribly, but that’s kept locked away in a box of her feelings and emotions never to be seen again alongside her favorite childhood memories. 

She huffs in frustration when she can't get the lock to open, her combination not seeming to work as she twists and twists. She swears it's the right one, so she tries once more and she's met with once again the lock not opening. 

"Come on!" She huffs as she stares at the lock intently. Beginning to think that maybe she changed the lock combination, she tries a different sequence of the same numbers and after a couple of tries she finally hears the satisfying click as the lock opens. 

She quickly grabs the textbooks for her first two classes and shuts it gently as she walks to her first class, her tote bag gently bouncing off her hip as she walks. She just barely makes it to her first class before the teacher closes the door, her hand pushing on the tall wooden door as she cries out 'wait please!' The door opens and she sees the teacher smile softly as he lets her in. 

"Just in time Y/N, have a seat." He says and she nods silently, with her head down she quietly makes her way over to an empty seat towards the back of the class. Grabbing her notebook and a pen out of her bag, she begins to write down the title of the notes she's gonna be taking and pulls her assignment due from the front of the notebook as well. 

— — — 

Time seems to fly in front of her eyes, the day taking not nearly as long as it usually feels like as she gets released from her last class of the day. With a smile on her face, she plugs her earbuds in her phone as she walks through the halls, stopping briefly to answer any questions from her classmates and to wave goodbye to her teachers. 

She spots Harry talking to a pretty brunette, one of more popular girls who also happens to be on the cheerleading team she thinks, her lips pulled back into a dazzling smile as she twirls her hair around her finger as she speaks. Hesitantly, she makes her way over and taps him on the shoulder, meekly saying 'excuse me' and she's greeted with a very nasty glare from the girl. 

"Um, we're talking." The girl says with a frown on her face. Y/N can't help the flush of embarrassment that begins to heat her cheeks up as she looks down. 

"I'm sorry, I just wanted to remind Harry of the library. It's at six, if you can't make it or gonna be late, just let me know." Y/N's voice comes out quietly as she speaks, her hands subconsciously moving to her front as she begins to play with her fingers. 

Harry lets out a very unenthusiastic 'uh huh' as his eyes never leave the brunette's and he begins to talk to her once more, completely ignoring the other girl behind him as the brunette smirks and plays with the collar of his t-shirt. When she realizes that he isn't paying attention, she frowns slightly before making her way out of the school building as music plays in her ears. 

She mumbles curses to Harry under her breath as she unties her bike and sets the cord in her bag. Hopping on her bike, she begins her ride back to her apartment. She smiles as she passes the cars and families out and about, their joy and love radiating off of them making her smile and aw. As she continues biking, she makes a quick stop at her favorite flower shop, propping her bike against the side of the store and she quickly walks in. The smell of all the flowers welcome her warmly as well as the bright smile of the lady standing behind the counter. 

"Y/N! So good to see you! How've you been?" She asks and Y/N smiles as she walks up to the counter. 

"Hi Tameka! I'm good, how are you?" Y/N asks and Tameka responds with great enthusiasm as she starts telling the younger girl about her kids and how the store's been getting along. 

Y/N loves coming to this flower shop because no matter how long she stays away, she's always greeted with a warm welcome, one that reminds her of her mother at a young age. The shop gives her a sense of family no matter what happens, and she's never been more grateful. After Tameka finishes rambling on about her life, she turns her attention to the younger girl as she props her head onto folded manicured hands and flashes her a warm smile. 

"Here to get the usuals? Anything new to update me on chica?" Y/N shakes her head with a small laugh as she leans on the counter. 

"Of course, you know I never stray. And no new updates unless you count having to tutor the boy who seems to hate my existence an update." She says and sighs, the thought of having to do so is a big damper on her happiness and a heavy weight on her heart — it’s not that she doesn’t want to tutor him, she just knows that it’ll be like pulling teeth with him. She’ll have to pry answers out of him and will more than likely be the worst tutoring session ever, she’ll be exhausted afterwards. 

She can't help but to wonder how it'll go, will he be the same as he is in school? Is he gonna spend the whole time mocking her and poking fun (he most definitely will, she’s sure of it. He won’t turn down an opportunity to annoy her and get under her skin), or will he be kind and listen to her (maybe in another universe, some alternate reality where they’re cordial. She’s silly to even think this was a suggestion, she should know him by now), asking questions whenever he's confused? Will the session end in a screaming match as he tests her limits or will it be calm as he complies and agrees to her help. 

As she pays for her flowers, she can't help but to ask herself those questions. She knows wondering won't help determine the outcome of the coming day, but she knows there's only one way to find out.

She makes her way home, her bouquet of flowers sitting neatly in her tote bag as she rides along. She takes pleasure in the feeling of the wind brushing against her skin and flowing through her hair as she pedals along. The sound of people chatting on the sidewalks and the sound of cars whirring by her and honking at others fill her ear and she just smiles. She enjoys the sound of her community while others might say that it’s too loud and there’s no peace in all of the noise, she says otherwise. She can’t imagine her city in silence, to not listen to the usual sound because it’s all she knows. 

She makes it home and parks her bike beside her apartment, tying it up and making it inside the building. She heads down the short hall and to her door, unlocking it and walks inside and smiles at the sereneness of her own space. She locks the door behind her and sits down on the couch with her notebook and her favorite pen, thinking of the best way to carry out these sessions with Harry. What would be the best approach and everything to do with it. She wants to make sure that he understands that she’s not going to allow him to just walk all over her and cheat his way through. 

She wants to actually help him, not just give him what he wants; she wants to give him what he needs and what he needs is someone to take time out of their day and work with him, cater the worksheets and lessons to how he learns best so he can actually learn the information. She can only hope for the best as she begins to write out a plan for the next few weeks, she just knows that she’s going to need all the luck dealing with Harry.

[clockwayswrites]

City Pigeons Bleed Green Part 22

masterpost

Someone’s fingers were in Danny’s hair when he woke. The fingers weren’t so much carding through his hair as petting him. Some sleepy part of him wondered if that was something he should be offended by, but the comfort of it far outweighed any offense of being pet like a cat. Besides, the touch said safe.

He’d woken last night with a nightmare.

It hadn’t been a bad one— at least not once he was awake. Swirling starscapes and the smell of something woody and spiced brought him back to the here quickly despite the unnerving quiet of the Manor. Still, it had been a nightmare and Danny was very grateful when Jason had settled, more upright than not, next to him the bed.

That was very much not Jason’s hand in his hair though. It wasn’t big enough.

Danny made a mumbled noise to let whoever it was know he was starting to wake up. The hand stilled and then pulled away. (He should have stayed quiet.)

“Good morning, Brother.” Oh, Damian. “Todd and Grayson are off doing something that is surely inane. Grayson asked that I stay with you until you woke. I hope that was not a problem…?”

“Nope. Thank you for staying,” Danny said around a jaw cracking yawn. “It’s, um, just change, you know?”

“Yes,” Damian agreed after a moment. He continued almost hesitantly. “When I first arrived at the Manor from the League, I woke often from the quiet. In the League, there is always movement with guards changes and the global nature of it. It is also unwise to sleep too soundly there. The act of… fully resting is one that has taken me time to accept. But it is safe here. Father and the others would allow nothing to harm us here.”

Danny finally made himself open his eyes and roll over so that he could look up at Damian. His little brother, though not by much. “…yeah, they wouldn’t, would they?”

“They would not.”

“Thank you for staying with me anyways,” Danny said.

Damian’s resulting blush was pretty adorable.

“Yes, well, you are welcome,” Damian said as he swiftly stood. “Breakfast will be at the hour. That should be plenty of time for you to appropriately ready yourself.”

Danny held back a still sleepy laugh as Damian practically fled the bedroom. Then he took a moment to stretch slowly from the very tips of his toes to the tips of his fingers. The bed— his bed was just the right side of firm while the bedding softened everything back down. Despite the nightmare, Danny felt well rested.

It was a feeling he could get used to.

Breakfast called though, so Danny got up, showered (a novelty he still enjoyed), and dressed. The Red Hood sweater was a comfort that things hadn’t changed too much even though everything felt (and was) so very different.

If he got a little lost on the way down to the kitchen, well, that was just an adventure, wasn’t it?

-

Someone had saved Danny a spot between Dick and Damian, and Danny tucked into it quietly. The table was alive with chatter and people passing around plates. It was overwhelming. It was nice.

The seat at the head of the table was empty, and Danny figured it must be for Bruce who was just now stepping into the chaos of the dinning room. He stopped behind Jason’s chair and rested a hand on his shoulder. “I see you were busy last night.”

Jason jutted his chin up defiantly. “Dick was there too.”

“Ever the big brother. Well, I’m proud of you, Jaybird,” Bruce said and dropped a kiss to the top of Jason’s head.

It left Jason looking completely stunned. His mouth open and closed a few times before he mumbled a quiet thanks and tucked into himself as much as someone Jason’s size could.

Worried about Jason’s response, Danny looked to Dick. He looked only proud though, grinning at both Jason and Bruce, so Danny tried not to worry about it. They would either explain it or not.

There would be a lot that happened now that Danny wouldn’t get or understand, and that would have to be okay. They’d been a family long before him. The others had managed to join though and become part of it, so Danny would too. Or at least Danny could try to believe that he would too. He was trying to have hope again.

“Master Danny,” Alfred called from the doorway. “Do you enjoy eggs with breakfast and if so, what kind?”

“I, um, yeah, I’ve been enjoying what Jay’s been making me.”

“Master Tim, what sort of eggs has Master Jason been making?”

Tim blinked up blearily from his mug of coffee. “Why would I know that?”

“Scrambled,” Jason said to Tim. “Or over-hard. Nothing with runny yolk.”

Alfred continued to look at Tim pointedly, who shifted in his seat before repeating what Jay had said.

“Thank you, Master Tim,” Alfred replied before sweeping away rather dramatically, for a man in an old fashion suit.

“Okay, what the fuck?” Tim questioned several beats later.

Bruce, of all people, hid a smirk behind his hand.

“Jason’s mad at Alfred, and Alfred is maybe not handling that well,” Dick answered eventually.

“Wait, Jason, at Alfred?” Duke asked, leaning forward to look at Jason with wide eyes. “Is something going to explode? Has exploded? Will be rigged to explode soon?”

“Naw, all the destruction is long gone and none of it was exploding,” Jason said, then paused. “Okay, well I guess it did start with an explosion.”

“Oh my god, Jason,” Dick said and buried his face in his hands.

“It’s my death, I’m allowed to joke about it.”

“Oh, is that the rule?” Danny asked.

Suddenly all eyes turned to him. Danny leaned as far back into his chair he could. The attention was more than a little intimidating.

“Yes,” Jason said with a pointed gesture of his cup.

“No,” everyone else at the table replied.

Danny was a little confused.

“Maybe wait until we’ve talked about how you’ve died,” Bruce said. There was a strained tone under his gentle words. “And give us a little time to come to terms with it.”

“Oh.” Danny gave a little nod. He tried not to think about all the things that he still needed to tell. “That makes sense. Since I still haven’t…”

“How about a tour of the manor after breakfast?” Dick asked, scattering Danny’s thoughts.

“What?”

Dick shrugged. “Well, you didn’t really see much yesterday. We should give you the full tour. This place is big.”

“And confusing,” Duke added. “Take every tour you can get. I’ve been lost more than once.”

“Thomas is being dramatic,” Damian said with a sniff.

“No, he’s right,” Jay said. “You rich boys don’t get a say in what’s normal.”

Tim waved away the comment. “Are we including downstairs in the tour?”

Everyone but Danny seemed to look to Bruce for that answer.

“I don’t see why not. After all, Danny has known most of you all longer in the masks then out of them. It isn’t like that part of our family is anything hidden,” Bruce said. “Besides, if Danny needs anything during the night, he should know where to go.”

“Not that we’re all going to be out on the streets right now,” Dick assured quickly. “There’s going to be some of us still in the manor every night.”

Danny was saved from having to say anything to that by Alfred coming back with plates, but he thought that at least a few of them noticed his tight grip on his coffee cup.

-

The tour started on the ground floor. It turned out that there was more than enough to see there before even getting to the second floor and Bruce’s office, Damian’s art room, a study room, etc.— Danny didn’t know how he would find anyone. The manor might be great when people needed quiet or time apart, but how was Danny going to find anyone?

In the apartment, all Danny had to do was walk out of his room. There was always someone right there in the living room or kitchen. There was always someone when Danny needed them. Now if he walked out of his room there were at least eight rooms to try. There were studies and offices and sitting rooms. There was a library and cinema and an indoor pool. There was a billiards room.

It was like a game of Clue.

Danny F—Phantom, in laboratory, with the portal. And the scalpel and the acid and the electricity—

The hand he quickly slapped over his mouth with didn’t quite cover up the hysterical laughter.

Jay turned to look at him, question and worry both evident in his eyes.

“Sorry, just… weird thought. Can we… could we take a break before the basement part? It’s just a lot.”

“Of course we can, Brother,” Damian said and immediately started them off in a different direction.

He’d been acting as the main tour guide, as was his ‘duty as the blood son’. Jay had come, because Danny was still embarrassingly attached to him and Dick, and Duke trailed along with because ‘someone was needed to translate the rich into real person’. It turned into an interesting set of commentary, that was for sure.

Danny was glad for the break and how that apparently meant refreshing lemonade, fresh fruit, and cookies in one of the sitting rooms.

“It’s wild, isn’t it?” Steph said.

Apparently she’d shown up at the manor at some point, which meant that her, Cass, and Tim were also joining them for the break. Jay had left to ‘drag Dick out of the hell pit’, whatever that meant.

“Yeah, it is. I really think mansions are just like that though. Every one that I’ve seen has been wild in some way,” Danny said. “Though this one takes it as far as history and sheer… grandeur.”

“Dude, how many mansions have you been in?” Duke asked as he snagged another cookie.

“Okay, well, maybe only three, but they’ve all been wild. One had a bowling alley and the other was owned by a half-dead villain,” Danny explained. He paused thoughtfully. “Or maybe everyone I know… knew is just weird.”

“I mean, looking around this room…,” Steph said.

“I’d be insulted if it wasn’t true,” Tim said.

“You’re a drama queen, I bet you’re insulted anyways,” Steph replied.

Tim gasped, dramatically, and through his hand across his forehead. “How dare.”

Danny covered his soft laughter with another bite of a cookie. It was a little overwhelming having so many of them around at once, but it was also nice. Everything was so much more… alive. Danny could use to be more alive.

“Having cookies without me?” Bruce asked as he leaned against the doorway.

“Yes,” Tim answered without hesitation.

“I see,” Bruce said with a slight smile. “Danny, why don’t you steal a few and come with me.”

Danny nodded, scooped up several cookies into a napkin, and headed Bruce’s way. He held open is haul when he got close. He hoped Bruce liked the same type of cookies as him. Bruce took a white macadamia nut cookie, one of Danny’s favorite. Danny ducked his head with a smile.

“So,” Bruce started after they had been walking a bit, “did they show you where my study is?”

“Mhum.”

“Good. You’re always welcome to come in if you need me, even if I’m in a meeting or working, all my children are.”

“I—okay, got it,” Danny said. He fiddled with the napkin before plucking out a macaroon to chew on.

“Good,” Bruce said. Danny didn’t know if Bruce believed him. “I was thinking that you and I could start to to look over the Batcave together, there are a few things I’d like to talk to you about.”

Danny nodded and popped the rest of the macaroon in his mouth for the excuse not to talk. He followed Bruce into his study, through (of all things) the grandfather clock, and into the wall. The elevator ride down was quick and the air got noticeably colder until the world opened up into an actual cave.

The space was full of vehicles, spaces he assumed were rooms, a massive computer, and several very large, very odd items. Who just had a life sized t-rex? Apparently Batman, that’s who.

Bruce lead them over to a round meeting table and sat down. He motioned for Danny to do the same, so Danny did and placed the napkin of cookies on the table between them.

“Danny,” Bruce leaned forward and clasped his hands. “I want to assure that there is no obligation or expectation that you do anything with the vigilante work.”

Danny glanced away from Bruce’s serious gaze. “I… everyone else does…”

“Yes, and sometimes I hate myself for that.”

Danny started, gaze snapping back to Bruce.

He smiled somberly. “I’m not exactly the most well adjusted person and I know that. I doubt I would have ever been ‘normal’, but losing my parents so young to a violent crime and being raised by a man who still calls me ‘master’ didn’t help. I feel a… profound sense of obligation to this city and guilt when something in it goes wrong. To me, my wealth and skills means it is my duty to protect Gotham, often at the sacrifice of all else. Too many times that drive has almost lost me the things that matter most.

“When Dick first came to me after his parents death he was angry and reckless and determined to get justice. I saw so much of myself in him that in an effort to protect him, I let him follow in my footsteps. When Jason joined the family… I wish I had been clearer that his place in this family wasn’t dependent on him becoming a vigilante. I wish I had told he in very clear words that I would love him no matter what. I’m still working to make up for that.”

Danny pulled a the the sleeve of the too large hoodie he was wearing. “What if I… what if I feel that sort of guilt to?”

Bruce let out a huff of air. “You and I, we bring up the very complicated question of what is nature verses what is nurture. I will always work to never assume that how I might do or feel something is the same as how you might. I know there are times where I will mess up though. And if you do feel a guilt like that, I know very much how it feels and I will do my best to help you through it or set you up with someone who can.”

“What if it doesn’t go away?”

“I wouldn’t be trying to make it go away,” Bruce assured him firmly. “What I would be trying to do is give you the tools to handle it in a healthy way. To know where your lines are. Our goal is to make sure that you’re happy and healthy. After that, if you still want to be a Cape, we can talk about what that would look like for you.”

“Okay,” Danny said after a moment. “Can I… if I don’t end up being, um, a Cape, can I… would I still be allowed to change into my other form?”

“Of course, Danny,” Bruce said. There was soft look about him that Danny couldn’t quite name. “Since you were injured last time you were in it, I would like someone to be with you when you first changed so you can have medical help if you need it. But if there’s no issue, you can change whenever you want to. We want all of you here.”

Danny rubbed at his eyes. He wasn’t going to cry. “I—thank you.”

“Are you seriously having a heart to heart in the Batcave, B?” Jay interrupted as he stepped out of the elevator.

Dick bounded out from behind him and over to scoop Danny up into hug that Danny leaned happily into.

“It’s fine. It was… it was needed,” Danny said. He peaked out from around Dick’s arms and glanced from Jason to Bruce and back. “Bruce has something to say to you also.”

“Danny,” Bruce sighed.

Danny buried himself back into Dick’s hug. His reply was muffled. “Better late then too late, right?”

“Right,” Bruce agreed after a beat. “Danny and I were talking about how there’s no expectation for him to be a vigilante. I wish… that I had been clearer about that with you, Jaylad. I wish I had told you that neither your place here or my love for you was contingent on you becoming Robin.”

Dick sucked in a sharp breath and his arms tightened around Danny, but he stayed silent. It was very silent.

Finally Jay cleared his throat. “Yeah, I wish you had too, old man.”

“It’s still true,” Bruce said quickly. “If you want to go to college still or start a foundation—anything you want, chum.”

“Right. I’ll… yeah, I’ll think about it.”

“But for now,” Dick cut in excitedly, “time to show off the the fun parts of the Batcave!”

“He means the dangerous parts,” Jay said. His voice was still a little rough sounding.

“Boys…” Bruce said, sounding resigned. “Danny is still healing. Let’s keep the dangerous parts to a minimum, please.”

“Sure, B,” Dick chirped in the least unconvincing way possible.

Danny was afraid in that good excited away, like right before the drop on a roller coaster. It was a nice sort of fear to have and he smiled as Dick dragged him off deeper into the cave.

[kurokawaia]

❛ YOU PLEASE ME ❜

Iguro Obanai X Fem!Reader

WC; 2k+ | !MDNI! | TW/CW : x fem reader, established relationship, boyfriend and girlfriend status, cunnilungus, pwp? oral -> female receiving, male giving, praise, squirting + more

⋆·˚ ༘ *𝑅𝐸𝒬𝒰𝐸𝒮𝒯 :: (filled request) can you please write something with obanai (again💀) with a s/o who is worried that she doesn't perform good in enough in bed? As in she doesn't think she pleases him enough? And then eventually it escalates and he comforts her and...yk👀 - ANON

m.list | demon slayer m.list

You were always conscious about your performance, and you weren't referring to your demo slaying performance, more to, how you pleased Obanai in bed. Obanai wasn't the most verbal during sex, he doesn't let out many noises apart from the occasional moans he lets out or the groan that spills from his lips when he comes into your soft cunt.

And there you two lay, basking in each other's warmth after the sex you two had just had a few hours ago. Obanai was fast asleep in your arms, his head resting against your chest with his knee in between your legs, arms wrapped around you. Your head rested on top of Obanai's and arms wrapped around his figure, making sure he was nice and close to you. 

But, you can't help but let the worry fill you up to the brim once more. Because Obanai didn't portray many facial expressions or noises during sex, you always come to think that you don't please him enough. Obanai finishes though, you thought, so he must be enjoying it to a certain extent, right?

You place a kiss on Obanai's forehead and let out a sigh. He sure seems content enough in your arms, he looks so peaceful lying there as he snuggles closer into you before stirring. 

"Go back to sleep, Oba'," you gently say as you see his duel-coloured eyes opening groggily while we lift his head from your chest. 

His brows furrow slightly in confusion as he looks to the shoji doors which the two of you had left open, it is a beautiful night out and he realises that the moon is high in the sky. It was nowhere near morning. 

"Why are you awake?" he asks, his voice slightly scratchy.

"'M just thinking about things," you replied, your heart beating faster when Obanai snuggles further into your body. 

A soft gasp leaves your lips when Obanai rolls onto you, causing you to roll onto your back. Obanai still has his leg in between your own but his body weight is all on top of you now and you re-wrap your arms around his back. He finds a comfortable position on your chest, his head cushioned by your boobs.

"About what?" He questions, he was genuinely worried, usually, you'd be knocked out sleeping after the two of you have sex, and he'd have to shake you to wake you up.

Placing another kiss atop of his head, you reassure him, "It's nothing, really, you should go to sleep, Obanai."

"No."

You sweatdrop at his blunt reply. "What do you mean, 'no', love?"

"I won't go to sleep until you do," Obanai murmurs agasint your already marked skin with his nibbles and red hickeys. 

"Then you'll be up for a while, so-"

"Just tell me what's wrong," he interrupts and you swallow a lump in your throat which grew over the confronting conversation.

"I was just thinking...about..." you trailed off.

"...About?" he pries.

"It's embarrassing," you say with finality, not wanting to continue the conversation no matter how much you want to tell him.

Obanai lifted his head from your chest, a perplexed look crossing his face, giving you an 'are you serious?' look. 

"I'm... your... boyfriend..." he said slowly, confused, not knowing why you were so embarrassed about telling him something.

Obanai has seen you in ways that no one else you know has. He's seen you fall over after stepping out of the bath, he's seen the facial expressions you make during sex, seen you and heard you say many many things that are not appropriate to say around other people. And here you are, saying that you are embarrassed about something.

"Yeah?" you replied.

"Exactly," Obanai says, his face inching closer to yours. "So, tell me."

"Well, it's not exactly... embarrassing," you continue, avoiding your gaze. "It's about when we have... you know."

Concern flickers in Obanai's eyes, instantly becoming worried about you. He didn't even know what you were going to say but all the possibilities were running through his mind. Obanai was worried that he was being too rough with you, hurting you. 

Almost simultaneously, when he was thinking about if he was being too rough with you, he sees your eyes well with tears. Obanai's eyes widen, his concern evident to you now. 

"H-Hey-"

You cut him off, "I'm sorry."

His brows furrow in confusion. "For what, dear?"

"If I don't make you feel good enough," you replied, avoiding his gaze and placing your palms over your eyes, all your overthinking catching up to you.

Obanai lets out a sigh before gently taking your hands off your puffy eyes and placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. He straddles your waist as he looks down to you and you don't wanna look up to him.

"Why would you think that?" he murmurs confused, he was so scared that he was being to rough with you that he ended up hurting you, so you saying something silly like that lifted the weight off of his chest.

"Well.... you don't seem to sound so into it," you said quietly and he rolls his eyes.

"That's just because I don't, love," he reassures, "if you would prefer I be more vocal, I will be. I value your pleasure so much and you never fail to make me feel good."

"You mean it?" you asked.

"Of course," he replies, his tone affectionate before gently pressing his lips to yours and you close your eyes in peaceful content. "Let me show you, repay you for everything you do to me."

"But, I want to," you mumbled agasint his lips.

"It's my turn, to repay you, to show you how much you mean to me, how good you make me feel," Obanai continues, pulling away from your lips.

Obanai trails soft and delicate kisses down your body and breathless sighs leave your mouth. A soft gasp slips from your lips when he begins to suck harder at your pelvis and lower abdomen. In the process of this, he places your thighs over his shoulders and before you can say anything, a kiss to your bare clit is placed, you mewl in response, back arching in response. 

"Oba'," you huff.

"Mmmm," he hums in response, the vibrations getting sent straight to your clit, a moan arousing from your throat as your fingers entangle into his black strands, tugging gently.

He simply showed no desire to stop, because after all, he was doing it not just to satisfy his needs. Your soft thighs were locked on his broad shoulders, holding you in bed. He did this not just to satisfy himself, but also for your good. Obanai really wished you to wake up to your needs otherwise, he would do something he'd regret.

You moaned, hands getting knotted within his long black locks. Your back wanted to arch away from the tingling sensation, to squirm out of his hold, but you were immobilized—utterly weak under his touch.

"Stop moving, love," he intones with a milder iratedness and you obey, trying your utmost not to twitch with the kisses he lathers onto your clit and sticky folds, drenched with your slick. Obanai doesn't hesitate to spread your folds with his fingers and doesn't hesitate in pressing his mouth and nose to your swollen clit, his mouth sucking in and out your hole.

Obanai was going to enjoy himself like there was nobody else there—with you, with your puffy little clit between his lips, sucking it until you came over and over again, with his tongue. Push you with his tongue into overheating.

Your fingers tighten on the grasp you had on his hair, and your grip on your thighs gets firmer when you feel his nose brush into your sensitive clit. A sigh of contentment seeped into your folds as a mewl escaped past your full lips. Moans escape your lips as his tongue drags up to your clit from your drenched hole.

Obanai wants you to whimper and groan as loudly as you can, with your back arched into his tongue as he lewdly suckles your painful clit, and your head flung back hard against the plush pillows underneath you.

That was the instant when you felt your thighs tighten around his head due to his constriction, and you felt a groan that caused you to grind down.

"Obanai! Feels funny!" You whimpered out, that weird feeling in your stomach as something built up inside you, and you didn't know what it was. "Obanai! St'op!! Feel's. weird!!"

"Shhh," Obanai cooed to you against your clit, and you moaned again, the coil in your stomach growing tighter. "You getting close, that's all."

Your eyes widened as he said it It feels so good, but this felt different to an orgasm, something more intense. Closer to your orgasm, two fingers pushed through your folds into your gummy walls, and they immediately found their place. Fingers pressed up against that soft spot deep inside your walls every time he curled his fingers when he inserted them in at a quick pass.

"Yes, that's it, {Y/n}," he moaned against you, his hips rutting into the mattress, trying to relieve some sort of sexual buildup that was anything but getting better.

He was in such dire need of you.

The way your hips pushed back into that rough grind onto his face elicited a groan from you. "Good girl," he praised.

You chant his name, broken letters, and his movements, quicker, hungrier; the single hold he had on your thigh clamped tighter. The coil in your stomach just wound tighter, and the fingers locked more around his locks, they kept him in place, but he groaned more into your folds.

It only pushed me right over the edge, for a moan to spill from the lips at the moment that he pressed his tongue hard against my clit—what was once a soft scream leaving your mouth. The coil in your stomach now unleashed, his face totally drenched. Obanai lifts his head out from your drenched folds; his chin is soaked with your cum.

Your chest heaved with the aftermath, breasts falling to the side from your subtly arched back. His chest swelled with a need for you, more of you, even if you had just had sex a few hours prior, he loved you so much.

Just your pure love, that's all he wants.

'I'm not through with you," were his final words just before his tongue started, once again, to toy with your clit, over except for you. "Gonna show you how good you make me feel."

"Obanai!" you cried in shock from how overwhelmingly the sensation was, a loud moan slipping past your lips, and your thighs clenched extremely tight around his head. This time, he wouldn't let you block his airways, his hands trying to pry open your thighs. And this time, he really would make you come with nothing but his tongue.

And so you did, a thousand times. Over and over your clit throbbed and ached. Your pussy ached and gaped for more, but he didn't give it to you. You'd begged for him to stop, but you knew he wouldn't. Obanai knew you didn't want this, no matter your actions and words. Your cunt begged harder for more and more releases.

Obanai continued to lap up from your folds, and you were definitely sure of a different sensation bubbling inside. "Obanai! Wait!" You whimper, but still, your juices spill out from your cunt all over his face, the liquid obviously wetter than earlier.

Obanai leans up from between your legs, the realization that it was you who just squirted. He wasn't expecting that, but god, he craved more of you. But, he realises how tired you were. He places a few kisses on your jawline and neck, not wanting to kiss you after eating you out, he finds that a tad bit gross. 

"That there, is how I feel inside every time we have sex," Obanai mutters agasint the shell of your ear, his breath tickling your skin.

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

m.list | demon slayer m.list

[javier-pena]

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Word Count: 5k (so much for short drabble)

Rating: Mature

Summary: You work for the DEA in Colombia. Until one of your missions goes terribly wrong.

Warnings: hurt/comfort | attempted rape (nothing too graphic) | smoking | reader is being held captive | historical inaccuracies | period-appropriate sexism | difficult father-daughter relationship | canon-typical violence (kind of graphic) | panic and distress | brief description of wounds 

Notes: This is the first fic for my 10k follower celebration!!! Thank you, @lokischocolatefountain who requested “I’ll be here when you wake up” with Javier Peña. I hope you like it 🤭 This fic was very much inspired by Gabriel García Márquez' "Noticia de un secuestro" ("News of a Kidnapping") which I highly recommend if you're interested in what Narcos (Season 1) only covers in two episodes, namely the kidnappings of prominent figures in Colombia by the Medellín Cartel in the early 90s. As ever, huge thanks to Dani @alexturner who took the time to ask, "What does this mean?" and made me realize that I, in fact, don't know the answer to that question.

***

It’s night again. Or maybe it’s dawn. You don’t know. The blacked-out windows don’t let in any light. Your days are no longer structured according to the laws of nature (morning – midday – afternoon – evening – night), but according to the laws of your captors (wake up – bathroom – food – nothing – food – sleep). Maybe you’re awake all night and sleep all day. Maybe you only sleep for four hours and are awake for twenty. Neither your mind nor your body can tell the difference any longer.

Right now, for example, you’re in the “nothing” part of your day. It’s just you, rolled up on your mattress in your corner, and your thoughts, looping and looping, making you relive how you ended up here, in this room, somewhere in Colombia. And every single day, right at the end of “nothing” and the start of “food”, you come to the same conclusion: It’s all your fault.

It started with your childhood, you think. No, you can’t blame everything that went wrong in your life on your father, but he certainly did his bid – no matter what you did, it was never enough. Not even when you applied for a transfer to the embassy and you got selected, the youngest woman in DEA history who got an assignment like that. All he had to say to you was, “Huh”. So of course, you had to do better than that.

Here, in Colombia, you found yourself surrounded by men just like your father, old men in suits who sneered at you, confusing you with a secretary, asking you to make coffee and take notes. Old men with guns and enough war stories to fill a book, calling you “little lady” and pinching your cheeks. Old men that were just there, leering at you from corners and doorways. And they all had the face of your father.

Still, no one forced you to raise your hand that Thursday afternoon your floor ran out of coffee, the same afternoon Noonan called you all to a meeting and asked for a volunteer. “Dangerous assignment,” she said, “likely to get you killed.” You should have listened to her. But the looks on all those faces when you raised your hand and said, “I’d be happy to do it,” were worth it. Almost. Because, ultimately, it was the beginning of the end.

One of the men on guard duty today swears loudly and another one growls at him to be quiet. Sometimes they forget there’s a life outside those blacked-out windows and they’re not the only people in this city. You forget that too, but then you hear the voices of people living their lives, the sound of a car backfiring, a dog barking somewhere. If one of you makes the wrong noise, surely, you’ll be discovered.

The three men with you today (tonight?) know that, and so do you. They’re playing cards by the light of a dirty kerosene lamp, sitting so closely together their knees are touching. If they stretched out their legs, their feet would be touching your mattress. The room you’re in is barely big enough for one person, let alone for four. It’s the only room you’ve seen in months, apart from the bathroom they take you to once or twice a day. It’s across a small hallway you haven’t seen because they blindfold you. Every time, for every trip.

You can barely remember a time when not everything you needed to survive was dependent on another person. The autonomy you prided yourself on, your ability to achieve everything on your own, to survive everything on your own, those have been taken away from you. Could you even use the bathroom if no one gave you permission first? You doubt it.

You didn’t need anyone’s permission to go on that undercover mission that ultimately landed you in this tiny square room that is now your entire world. You were the fastest to volunteer, you fit the profile they were looking for: fluent in Spanish, low level enough to not be able to spill any secrets should you get arrested, pretty. It was supposed to be so easy. Infiltrate the Medellín cartel, gather intel, report back. There was even a plan in place to extract you should anything go wrong. And go wrong it did, and nothing was there to break your fall.

Before that, before you watched boys play cards all day, before your only window to the outside world was a small TV, there was one person who tried to get you to back down. You thought he didn’t think you capable of anything because you’re young, inexperienced and a woman, but in hindsight you should have listened to him. It doesn’t matter that the others called him an asshole and you thought he was trying to dissuade you because he was jealous. He knew what he was talking about and you should have listened to him.

The man closest to you lights a cigarette, his face briefly doused in a gloomy red light. You think of them as men because it somehow makes it easier, but he looks barely 16. Your room quickly fills with smoke and you try to suppress a cough so they don’t hit you again.

That’s how this all started, with you getting punched in the stomach.

Your undercover mission asked a lot of you, maybe too much. You were aware that it might be necessary for you to sleep with some of the men you were trying to get close to, and when they asked you about this back at the embassy, you wouldn’t have any problem with it... Until it was about to happen. The man touched you, breathed into your face smelling of cheap alcohol and expensive cigars, and in a moment of sheer panic, you fought back and blew your cover.

That’s it. That’s all. You ruined the mission because you couldn’t lie still for five minutes, and now you’re paying for it.

You know there have been attempts to find you and you know you’re not the only hostage. Right at the beginning, you shared a room with a Colombian journalist who, before that, had shared a room with a famous Colombian TV presenter. You know there are negotiations, you sometimes see on TV that a hostage is returned to their family. One time, there were shouts and sirens and gunshots, but they blindfolded you and put you in a truck. That’s how you ended up here, in this room.

At first, you focused on the stories of the people who made it out alive, not on the stories of the people who didn’t. You’re DEA, and even though you fucked up, you know those three letters are like a protective spell woven around you. Yes, they will hold you captive for as long as possible, yes, they will use you to fight everything you stand for, but they won’t kill you. The more time passes though, the more you doubt anyone is still fighting for your safe return. They might not kill you, but you also won’t be getting out of here.

With every day that passes, with every day you grow weaker and more tired, those men stare at you more and more. At first, they didn’t dare to look at you, ignored you when you tried to talk to them, acted like you weren’t there. Now you catch their eyes on you frequently, hungrily taking you in. They still don’t touch you – not like that, anyway – but they hit you when you’re too loud, they press their fingers over your mouth, the smell of cigarettes and gunpowder making you gag, and sometimes their hands wander, to the small of your back, to your side. Even if you make it out of here alive, you won’t make it out of here unharmed.

It's a different day. At least you think it is. You sleep more and more during your period of nothing, but it isn’t a restful sleep. If anything, it makes you more tired, wearier. You dread waking up and you dread falling asleep and you dread being awake. But something is different today, something has changed while you were asleep. There are only two men with you tonight, and they look at you more and more, their faces unreadable. It unnerves you more than their openly lustful gazes. You pretend to ignore them as best as possible, but it’s hard when you don’t want to turn your back on them.

A third man comes into the room, one you haven’t seen before. He’s big, broad, a tight shirt stretching over his belly, lines around his eyes, thinning hair on his head. He doesn’t look at you, just steps over the two boys and switches on the TV that comes to life with a static crackle. On your mattress, you come alive too, your heart starting with a painful lurch. Whatever it is, this can’t be good for you.

You barely recognize the face on TV. It takes you about a minute to make sense of what you’re seeing, so unfamiliar you’ve become with the ambassador you used to take orders from. She looks the same – it’s you who has changed. Her suit is still perfectly pressed, her hair is still perfectly styled, she still speaks into the cameras in that calm, no-nonsense voice. It’s you who you don’t recognize, you who doesn’t make sense anymore.

It also takes you a while to understand her, to make sense of what she’s saying. You hear the words “hostages” and “negotiation”, and you know she’s talking about you and whoever else there may be, but definitely you. It would explain your captors’ faces. Something has happened, some new development that’s inconveniencing them. Maybe this is it. Maybe you’re being set free. Maybe even tonight. The thought makes you feel light-headed; you have no idea who you are outside of these four walls and that mattress.

“… end of negotiations. We will no longer regard terrorists as equal opposites in this. Any American hostages they might still have, or pretend to have, will, from today onward, be considered missing in action.”

What does that mean? Surely, they wouldn’t just … they wouldn’t just let you die, would they? You’re DEA, you can’t be missing in action, you’re not a soldier. The cartels can’t kill you, they wouldn’t do that. Just how the US wouldn’t abandon you, wouldn’t go on TV to sign your death warrant in front of a live audience. It doesn’t make sense.

You turn to your captors, as if looking for guidance, but they look just as lost as you. Even the big man. He keeps running his fingers through his thin hair, sweat beading on his forehead. One of the boys looks at him too, as if waiting for orders, the other is running the tip of his index finger through the dust on the floor. Why won’t they look at you?

“So we just kill her?” asks the boy who keeps staring at the big man. His name is Andrés Felipe. You know that because another boy let it slip once. You’re not supposed to know their names, and Andrés Felipe made sure that mistake would never happen again, but by then it was too late.

“Not yet,” the man answers. “We have to wait.”

Andrés Felipe groans. “What for? You heard that woman on TV. They’re done negotiating.”

“You don’t know that,” dust boy chimes in. “It could be a ruse.”

Andrés Felipe laughs at him. “As if you know anything about politics. You can’t even read.”

You look at Andrés Felipe then, truly look at him. You need the distraction. You need to pretend it isn’t you they’re talking about, as if your fate doesn’t depend on these three men. And there isn’t much else to do in this room but look. Andrés Felipe is young, younger than you, but older than dust boy. His face is free of wrinkles, free of the tell-tale signs of hunger and a tough upbringing in the favelas. He isn’t here because he needs to be, he’s here because he wants to be. Which also explains why he dares to speak up in front of the big man, whose maturity puts him in charge.

You don’t like Andrés Felipe, never have. Maybe it’s because knowing his name humanizes him and it’s easier to hate a human than some faceless, nameless villain. Maybe it’s because of the cruel glint in his eyes, or the way he beat up that boy who revealed his name. And now there’s his eagerness to kill you. There is no reason for you to feel any sympathy toward him.

“He’s right,” the big man says then. “Maybe they want us to kill all the hostages so they’ll have an excuse to send in the military.”

“They wouldn’t do that,” Andrés Felipe responds. “Everyone would know they’re liars.”

“They’re not,” dust boy dares to speak up again. “Missing in action also means they can be found. If you’re missing, you’re not dead. If the missing people die –”

He can’t finish his sentence because Andrés Felipe slaps him. “Shut up. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The big man doesn’t come to dust boy’s aid. He just smirks. “Quit it, you two, we’re sitting tight until we get our orders.”

“I’m fucking done waiting!” Andrés Felipe shouts and you flinch. He’s too loud. Someone will hear him. And they don’t have any reason to keep you alive now. It’s easier to shoot you and then run. “All I’ve been doing is waiting. Do you think I don’t have anything better to do with my time?”

The big man shushes him. You wish he would hit Andrés Felipe, put him in his place, but he just crosses his arms in front of his chest. “I say we wait.”

You close your eyes and breathe in deeply. Andrés Felipe says something else in that sharp, nasally voice of his, but you refuse to listen. Nothing good can come of it. Either they will kill you or they won’t. You’re too weak to think about either of these options. And you’re not going anywhere until those orders arrive, so you might as well …

When you wake up, the room is quiet, and you immediately know something is wrong. Even before you feel the cool, sharp blade against your neck, and before you smell the stale breath of the man holding it, cowering above you.

“Not one sound,” he hisses, and you recognize Andrés Felipe’s voice, uncomfortably loud in the quiet room. It’s so quiet, too quiet with just the two of you. The sounds of him unbuckling his belt are like explosions against your eardrums. You fight the urge to tell him to be quiet, but then your brain catches up with what your body already knows, and you kick your legs and shake your head.

You almost don’t feel the cut of the knife, but you do feel the hot drops of blood on your neck. “I told you to be quiet,” Andrés Felipe hisses. “Just don’t move.”

But you do, you do move, at least your hands that you ball into fists. You don’t want your life to end like this, in some shack somewhere in Colombia with a knife against your throat and a criminal inside of you. This can’t be it. They have to put you in front of a firing squad at least, don’t they? Not like this. Please, not like this.

Andrés Felipe touches your lower belly trying to unbutton your dirty pants, and you flinch, a terrified groan escaping your lips. The knife cuts deeper into the soft skin of your throat. “Shut up, you stupid bitch,” he growls.

Then there’s blood. Everywhere. It’s in your eyes, your mouth, you breathe it in, you taste it on your tongue. Andrés Felipe collapses on top of you, the knife landing on the mattress with a dull sound. You try to get out from under the heavy body, but you can barely lift his shoulders before your arm starts to tremble.

“Hey.” You wipe the blood out of your eyes to find a man kneeling next to you, shoving Andrés Felipe’s heavy body aside so you can sit up. You don’t know who he is, you’ve never seen him before, but he has to be someone higher up if he dared to kill Andrés Felipe. Because that is what just happened, you slowly realize. Andrés Felipe is dead and you’re covered in his blood.

The strange man reaches for you and you flinch away. “Ma’am, my name is Javier Peña,” he says, his voice steady and calm as if he’s been in this exact situation a million times before. “I’m with the DEA. I’m here to get you out.”

“The DEA?” you repeat, the English sounds feeling foreign in your mouth.

He reaches for you again, touches your shoulder, and this time you don’t flinch away. “You’re safe now.” He squeezes your shoulder, then stands up and holds out his hand to you. You take it and push yourself off the mattress.

“What happened?” you ask, trying to ignore the dead body, half its face gone.

“Maybe we should discuss this –,” Javier starts, but you don’t hear the rest of the sentence. Suddenly it feels like there are cotton balls lodged in your ears and the whole world turns dark, darker than it already is.

Someone is carrying you. You think you must be outside because you feel a light breeze on your face. You don’t remember the last time you smelled fresh air, but when you breathe in deeply, you’re enveloped in cigarette smoke and gunpowder. It’s not unpleasant, you realize with a start. It comes from a heavy leather jacket you’re wrapped in, and from the man carrying you. They never would have carried you like this, carefully, as if you might break, so you know you must be safe.

When you next open your eyes, you’re inside again. The room is so big it startles you at first. But the longer you let your eyes wander, the more your brain adjusts to help you realize you’re in a normal sized living room, sitting on a leather couch, a knitted blanket wrapped around your shoulders. You must have just sat up because your head is spinning and your limbs are trembling, but otherwise you feel like you can finally breathe again.

“Feeling better?”

You’re proud of yourself for not jumping at hearing his voice. “Yeah,” you answer, swallowing to wet your dry throat. You feel an unpleasant tug on your skin where Andrés Felipe cut you twice. “Where am I?”

You turn to look at him. He’s sitting on the couch next to you but with enough distance between the two of you so you don’t touch. He’s holding a half-smoked cigarette between his fingers, trying to hide the look of concern on his face. It’s something you will see a lot from now on, people looking at you as if you’re about to break.

“You’re in my living room,” he answers.

“Why not,” you have to swallow again, “why not at the embassy?”

He taps his foot nervously so his leg is jumping up and down, takes a drag. “Us coming to rescue you … that wasn’t exactly sanctioned by Noonan.”

“So you really are DEA?” you ask, even though there are a million other things you should ask first. Like if the press conference you saw on TV was really true. If Noonan and the United States were really prepared to let the remaining hostages die. But the longer you look at the man next to you, the more familiar he looks.

Javier nods at the same time as you burst out, “You tried to warn me, didn’t you? Back at the embassy? You told me I was in over my head with this. You’re the asshole!”

The surprise on his face is almost enough to make you laugh for the first time in months. “I’m the what?”

You open your mouth, but instead of an answer coming out of it, you start coughing uncontrollably. Your sides are burning by the time you’re done, but Javier is right there next to you with a glass of water that you accept gratefully.

“Let me take a look at your throat,” he says, watching you swallow down the cool liquid.

If you think about it, you haven’t been touched in months. You know you’ll flinch away before he even touches you, so you stiffen your muscles, determined to remain in place.

He must see it all on your face. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I know,” you say through gritted teeth.

His fingers are rough against your skin as he carefully tilts your head to the side. You barely flinch but you whimper because the movement hurts more than you would have thought. He hums quietly before standing up. “I’ll be right back.”

You raise your finger to your neck to find the skin there sticky with blood. Whether it is yours or Andrés Felipe’s you can’t tell. But the unfamiliar feeling makes you tremble again. You wish you could stop that, or at least suppress it. You wish the world would start making sense again. You miss your small room and your mattress and knowing what comes next. You don’t even know if Javier is telling the truth, if he really is who he says he is. Yes, he looks vaguely familiar, but until a few hours ago, you had no idea what time of day it was.

“Hey, hey,” Javier says softly. He is sitting next to you again, closer this time, but he’s still not touching you. “Breathe. You’re safe. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

“None of it makes sense,” you mumble. You’re not sure if he’s heard you, but you do feel the pressure on your chest lighten.

“You have two cuts on your throat,” Javier goes on, shaking a small bottle of disinfectant. “They don’t look too bad, but I’d still like to clean them. Is that okay?”

How do you explain to him that you just spent months asking for permission instead of giving it? How do you explain to him that you don’t know how to decide anything for yourself anymore?

Not sure what to make of your silence, Javier goes on. “You can do it yourself if you want to. I can show you –”

You tilt your head to the side. “No, please. I want you to do it.”

Javier stops shaking the bottle of disinfectant, grabs a cotton ball, and pours some liquid over it. “Tell me if I hurt you.”

He does hurt you. The second he touches the cotton ball to the cut, you want to scream. It burns so much you can hardly take it. But you grit your teeth and you don’t complain. Because you don’t want him to stop. You know it’s just the isolation and the confusion of the last hours and the fact that your world doesn’t make sense anymore, but the way he dabs the cotton ball across the cut, brow furrowed in concentration, makes you feel safe. And you can’t remember the last time you felt like this.

“You’re being so brave,” he mumbles, and surely you must have misheard or you must have imagined it, because he continues in a normal voice, “Tomorrow, you should go see a doctor. I don’t have any medical training and it doesn’t look too bad, but it can’t hurt to be safe.”

You raise your fingers to touch your throat and briefly brush his as he draws them back. “Thank you,” you say when you find your skin free of dried blood. The cotton ball in Javier’s hand is now a blotchy red. “What happened?”

“I was hoping you could tell me,” Javier says, standing up to dispose of the cotton ball. “I think he cut you with a knife.”

“No, not that.” You sink back against the couch cushions and tightly wrap the blanket around yourself. “With Noonan and the hostages.”

Javier, who is standing in the open kitchen with his back toward you, stiffens. “It was just you,” he answers, pretending to clean some dust off the counter. “You were the only American hostage left. Because it took so fucking long to find you.” He turns to you, cringing. “Sorry. I meant it took us forever to find you.”

“You can swear,” you tell him, your cheeks tingling from the unfamiliar sensation of a smile.

He walks back toward you, and it’s as if you’re seeing him for the first time. He’s no longer the jealous man who was trying to get you to back off from a mission he told you you weren’t qualified for. He’s the man who risked his job – and his life – to save you. And you don’t quite know what to do with that.

To your disappointment, he sits down in a chair, not on the couch, and lights another cigarette. “We had your location eventually. But then, two days ago, the cartel released the businessman, the only other American being held. We had to give them three men in exchange, and the exchange almost went wrong. Someone high up in Washington must have decided that’s enough.”

“So it was true, what Noonan said on TV?” You feel hot and cold all over. “It wasn’t a ruse? They were prepared to let me die?”

Javier nods. “Yeah, but I wasn’t.”

Your heart stops for a short while. “Why?”

He shrugs. “You’re one of us.”

“You warned me. You told me not to go on this mission. I thought you were jealous.”

He barks out a short laugh. “No, I thought it was a stupid mission. Too dangerous. Not worth risking the life of one of our agents for. And it was putting all our other informants at risk too.”

You look down at your hands, barely recognizing them underneath the dirt clinging to your skin. “What happens next? Will you get reassigned?”

“I won’t get a medal, that’s for sure.” He takes a drag of his cigarette and his face lights up with a red glow. “Noonan will thank me privately but reprimand me publicly. And then she’ll send you home.”

“Me? Why am I being punished?” Your voice, still hoarse from disuse, rings in your ears.

He laughs again, loudly this time. “Darlin’, Colombia almost killed you. I wouldn’t call it punishment.”

Your heart kickstarts at the use of the diminutive. “I want to stay here. There’s still so much to do.”

He stubs out his cigarette. “What you need to do is take things easy. You just went through a horrible ordeal you haven’t even begun to process. Even if you do stay here, you need a break first.”

You want to protest, but you can’t find the strength. You feel weary, exhausted, like you spent the last month trekking through the jungle without a break. Your body is a heavy lump you hardly have control over.

The next thing you feel is Javier’s arms around you as he holds you tightly. “Hey,” he says again, and you could get used to the softness in his voice. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“No,” you mumble, trying to push him away, suddenly trapped in the memory of closing your eyes and waking up to a man holding a knife cowering above you.

Javier doesn’t take no for an answer. “You’ll sleep in my bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

You’re still not sure this is such a good idea, but there is no alternative you can think of, and your body is begging you to lie down on cool, clean sheets and forget the world for a while. You let Javier pull you up, and you manage to stumble not more than once as he leads you into a dark bedroom. He doesn’t switch on the light.

“I’m going to let you sleep in,” he tells you, sitting you down on the edge of the bed. “Do you want me to leave the door open in case you need me?”

“No, that’s fine,” you answer, weakly kicking off your dirty shoes. You just want him to leave so you can close your eyes.

He runs his hand from the top of your head down to your neck in a well-practiced, automatic motion. “I’m a light sleeper – just shout if there’s anything you need.”

You nod, and he finally steps back with a smile on his face. “Good night, Javi,” you say, your head hitting the pillow before you can stop it. He’s already at the door when you add, “And thank you.”

You can’t have been asleep for more than a few minutes when the sound of gunfire wakes you. It’s not close by, but the echo of it still reaches you, and before your brain has time to process, your body is already responding with a sob that shakes you from head to toe.

“I’ve got you,” Javier says, wrapping you up in his arms. You bury your face against his naked shoulder, trying to steady your breath, but you’re crying uncontrollably now.

“I’m sorry,” you sob.

All he does is run his hand up and down your back. “Shhhh, I’m here. Nothing is going to happen to you.”

His warm breath against the top of your head makes your heartbeat slow down, and you finally manage to swallow your tears. “I’m so sorry,” you repeat, feeling like you’re about to die.

“Come on, lie down,” he urges you gently, trying to lower you toward the mattress.

“No!” You cling to him desperately, but he pries your arms off him without much effort.

“I’ll be here, okay?” he soothes you. “Right in that chair over there.”

You don’t know what chair he’s talking about; you didn’t notice one when he led you into the bedroom, but you stopped noticing things a while ago. “Don’t leave me,” you beg.

He brushes your hair out of your face and places a soft kiss against your temple. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

When you next open your eyes, there he is, asleep in an armchair in the corner of the bedroom, the early morning sun dancing across his skin.

[allur1ngs]

✮ enflame ✮

TW: bada being too fine for her own good, a little bit of possessive!bada, lots of protective!bada, cold!bada (to anyone who isn't you), super brief mentions of violence, bada having beef w your bodyguard, pushy men, btw the picture to the farthest right is purely for aesthetics and not meant to represent reader’s skin tone or body type!!

SUMMARY: you manage to tear bada away from her work for an evening of shopping, where the soft spot she has for you is unveiled.

part iii. bloody knuckles

WC: 2.9k

A/N: read this for more background on this au. this is not exactly a part two to the headcanons but i got this idea out of nowhere so yeahhh

DISCLAIMER: all characteristics portrayed are purely speculation and fiction, they are not meant to reflect bada's actual character, values, or attitudes. please keep this in mind!!

From the moment Bada arose from her slumber, she sensed that her day would be draining. Usually, waking up before the sun had the chance to peak above the horizon wasn't difficult for her—so many years of doing so had made sleep fatigue all too familiar. However, last night, she stayed awake into the wee hours of the morning, something she typically tried to avoid.

So when her body starts to naturally wake up only a few hours later, she groans loudly into her pillow, squeezing her eyes shut and mentally cursing her past self for staying up so late.

Although all she wants is to stay in bed more than anything, she forces herself to rise from her plush king-sized bed and tosses the warm sheets aside.

Briefly, she turns around to gaze at the spot where she had just been lying when a thought strikes her. You must be asleep in your own bedroom. Curled up in a similar, large bed, a pocket of heat cradling your figure while your chest slowly rises and falls. Your eyes must be tightly shut, eyelashes fluttering as you fight to remain asleep despite the rays of sunlight that will soon begin to peek through your curtains. Your soft lips must be pursed together. Your lips...

Bada wishes you both shared the same bed. She wishes she hadn't been so courteous to buy you a new bed, comfortable sheets, and all the amenities you needed when you first arrived. She wishes instead that you were lying in her bed. She wishes she could wrap her arms around you, and pull you close whilst you slept. She wishes she could foster a beautiful heat between your two bodies. She wishes she could run her fingers across your skin--

Bada shakes her head, sighs loudly, and turns away sharply from her bed. She rubs her eyes as she makes her way over to her dresser, mumbling berating words under her breath for thinking of you in such a way. It's not appropriate and beyond that, those types of thoughts lead to feelings, which she does not--cannot have for you.

Bada's day seems to worsen after dressing herself in her usual attire, a freshly ironed black suit and slacks. The fabric touches her uncomfortably, and still feeling the edges of sleep mar her vision, everything is suddenly bothering her.

But the final nail in the coffin is when Lusher, one of Bebe's most trusted mafia members, walks into her office hours later, carrying a tray of breakfast.

Immediately looking up from the papers in front of her, Bada expects to see your lovely face greet her, but is met with Lusher's cheeky expression instead. She tries not to display her palpable disappointment, but concealing her feelings has never quite been her strong suit. Her mother had told her this many times when she was younger.

"Don't jump out of your seat in excitement, now." Lusher jokes, placing the breakfast tray on the desk.

Bada's lips tighten into a firm, thin line as she stares down at the food, feeling her hunger quickly escape her. "Thanks."

"I know I'm not who you wanted to see, but I can't lie, your disappointment hurts me." Lusher moves a hand to her chest, acting like she'd been wounded.

Bada sighs, shaking her head. "Why isn't she here this morning?"

"Still in bed, apparently." Lusher clasps her hands behind her back. "We found her asleep on the couches late last night. She must have been waiting for you to leave your office so she could wish you a good night, but ended up falling asleep out of exhaustion."

The butterflies that dance in Bada's stomach internally, are a stark contrast to the disapproving expression she wears externally. "I've told her many times not to wait up for me. It's not healthy to be staying up so late."

Lusher sighs dramatically. "You're telling me. How many times have I asked you to head to bed earlier?"

"That's different." Bada denies while picking up her golden ink pen and continuing to write. "I have work to do. Waiting so late into the morning just to wish me a good night is..."

"Sweet? Incredibly kind, and definitely a testament to how endearing your fiancée is?"

Bada clicks her tongue in annoyance. "What are you still doing here? Don't you have something better to do than bothering me?"

"You know there's nothing I like more than bothering you." Lusher shoots back with a sly smile.

Bada tried to continue working, she really did. She attempted to push through filling out papers, even though her wrist was screaming at her to take a break. However, come midday, she was already fed up.

Ruffling her hair and groaning loudly, Bada stands up from her table, the chair she'd been sitting out whining loudly against the floor. She wastes no time in shuffling to the door, grabbing the handle, and pulling it open.

Right when she does, she catches a flash of your figure walking down the hall toward her, your bodyguard only a few paces behind you. As her gaze connected with yours, she felt as if the world transformed, shifting from monochrome sketches to vibrant watercolor paintings

"Oh." You speak first, an easy smile finding your lips. "Good afternoon, Bada."

"Good afternoon." She greets back, trying her damnedest not to sound overjoyed at your presence. "Were you coming to see me?"

"I was." You nod. "I just wanted to let you know I'm planning on going to the mall."

"Are you now?" Bada says absentmindedly, her hand coming up to clutch at her tie and loosen it. The fabric suddenly feels much too tight around her neck.

"Yes..." You trail off, your eyes taking in how Bada's pale and lithe fingers grab at her tie and jostle it around, making it dangle a bit messily across her collarbones. Such a simple action should not be so attractive, no--it shouldn't. It's really ridiculous how easy it is for your fiancée to be so naturally alluring.

"That sounds nice." She hums. "Are you looking to buy something in particular?"

"No, not really." You shake your head. "I'm really just going to look around, and not stay at home all day."

Home. Bada's heart warms at you calling the mansion you both reside in your home. Although it technically is, it's different for you to perceive it as such. It means you feel comfortable here, with her--living with her--

"You should come with me." Your voice brings Bada out of her stupor, her eyes immediately finding yours.

Her mouth opens and closes dumbly, a clear look of shock painted across her face. She tries to quickly gather her bearings, half-heartedly muttering out, "I--I wish I could, but I have a lot of work to do--"

"Bada, all you do is work," you remark, crossing your arms over your chest. She has to force herself not to think about how cute you look doing so. "You deserve to have some downtime. Even if it is only for a few hours."

She stands there, still a bit shell-shocked, staring at you before her eyes shift to the figure behind you, finding your bodyguard, who is trying very hard to conceal her amused smile behind a shaky hand.

Bada's gaze turns icy as she eyes down your bodyguard, prompting the subordinate to immediately turn away and dispel her smile. "All right. I'll come with you."

"Wait, really?" You awe, your eyes going wide and your smile growing. "I didn't think you'd actually say yes."

"Well, you're right. I do need a break. At the rate I'm working at now, I'll never do anything productive by the end of the day." Bada admits with a tired smile. "Are you ready to go, then?"

"Yes." You begin to nod, but your smile slowly turns into a frown. "But you should change into different clothing."

For the second time that day, Bada is left surprised by your boldness. "Change? Why?"

"Don't you want to wear something other than a suit for once?" You ask innocently. "It seems... stuffy to be in it all day."

"Stuffy." She laughs breathily. "I guess you're right." Bada looks between you and your bodyguard. "Will you be all right to wait for me?"

"Of course." You smile.

"Great." She smiles back.

When Bada comes back, she isn't wearing her usual black suit. And although you'd been the one to suggest it, you're not quite ready for how amazing she looks in casual clothing.

A black leather jacket is draped over her shoulders, with slick white lines running down the sleeves and across the chest. She has paired the jacket with matching black leather pants and a black shirt.

In that moment, you want to scream at whatever higher power exists for making your fiancée so unfairly attractive. How were you supposed to act normal around her when her mere presence makes you hot below the collar?

Well, despite your internal struggles you give her a compliment before you're off to the mall, hopping into a sleek black sports car and speed away.

Your first destination in the large mall is a relatively luxurious clothing store. You can't lie; you had wanted to go into the store since you passed it on one of your trips to the mall without Bada, but you were too intimidated to enter. However, now, with her by your side, you feel much more comfortable stepping into the expensive store.

Approaching the door, your bodyguard begins to step forward, about to open the door for you like she always does, but Bada is quicker. She grabs onto the handle and opens the door, stepping aside to make room for you to walk in.

You look at her and smile while mumbling a soft thank you, to which she gives you a small smile back and nods. Your bodyguard begins to walk in after you, but again Bada is faster and enters the store, letting the door swing closed behind her. It almost hits your bodyguard in the face, making her flinch back and sigh.

"Keep a look out from there," Bada tells her sternly through the glass doors.

"Yes, Boss," your bodyguard begrudgingly mumbles back, understanding that this is payback for teasing your fiancée earlier.

Bada turns back around, her eyes easily finding you in the small crowd of people. You're looking around the store with wide eyes, a smile gracing your lips as you observe the embellished clothing around you. She smiles fondly to herself, finding every expression of yours much too cute for your own good.

However, before she can make her way to you, the familiar sound of a voice greets her from behind. Turning around, she finds In-Su, one of her business partners and the owner of the clothing store. Greeting him back, an air of professionalism immediately envelops her as she begins to engage in conversation with him

Meanwhile, you're in your own personal heaven. The clothing you've been browsing is exactly your style, and despite the high prices, you know you can afford it all, thanks to the black credit card Bada had gifted you.

A few minutes later, your hands are already starting to get full as you reach to pull another article of clothing from the rack when you suddenly feel a firm force push into your side, causing you to lose your balance and almost fall to the floor. making you lose your balance and almost fall to the floor. Thankfully, you manage to steady yourself before you do, huffing while turning to your right to see what--or more accurately who--had bumped into you.

"Excuse me." A well-dressed man stands a few feet away from you, his lips forming a snobbish frown.

Despite your irritation, you instinctively apologize. "Oh, sorry--"

"It's fine." He cuts you off, eyeing you up and down. "You should be careful where you stand."

Internally, you scoff at the man, but externally, you only mumble another half-hearted apology before turning away and walking down another aisle.

"Have I seen you before?" The man follows after you.

"I don't think so." You answer back flatly, trying to ignore him and busy yourself by flipping through pairs of jackets.

"I swear I've seen you before. I never forget the face of a beautiful woman."

This time, you're unable to control your expression and outwardly cringe. Is this random man who bumped into you flirting with you right now? After acting so rude?

You say nothing to him in response, choosing to completely ignore him instead.

"You know, when someone compliments you, it's common courtesy to say thank you."

Now you're starting to get increasingly anxious. You don't feel brave enough to confront the man, but he doesn't seem to understand that you're not interested and clearly uncomfortable with his advances.

Taking your silence in offense, the man scowls before grabbing your wrist rather roughly, making you drop all the clothing you'd been holding, and twists you around to face him.

You gasp at his painful hold, attempting to break away from him but unable to due to the sheer strength of his grip. "Let me--" you begin, but the words die in your mouth upon seeing someone standing behind him.

The man, who had been staring you down, notices the shift in your expression and suddenly becomes aware of a very strong presence behind him. He turns around, still gripping your wrist, and comes face to face with a scarily calm Bada Lee.

"Do you need something?" He snaps at her dumbly.

Bada stares down at him with steely eyes, her expression so devoid of emotion you're almost terrified for him. "I believe I should be asking you that question. Is there a reason why you're touching my fiancée?"

The man looks between you and Bada, scoffing disapprovingly. "Tch, she didn't tell me she was engaged."

"Even if she wasn't, in what world would it be appropriate to touch a woman who clearly isn't interested in your pathetic advances like that?" She asks rhetorically, her voice rising with every syllable. Clearly, her anger was getting to her.

The man grits his teeth, feeling his ego bruise because not only is Bada embarrassing him, but she's also easily intimidating him with her presence. "Hey, just who do you think you are?" He raises his voice to match hers.

"I think the real question is," Bada takes a step closer, leaving hardly any space between her and him, "who the fuck do you think you are?"

In that moment, the man's entire demeanor shifts. He turns to look around the store, finding every shopper, worker, and even the store owner staring back at him, eyebrows furrowed, and eyes set into firm glares. Some of them have their hands in their pockets or are grabbing something hidden next to them. His face pales, and looking back at Bada, her face starts to become familiar. He hadn't recognized her out of her normal formal attire, but now--

He gulps, quickly letting go of your wrist like your skin burned him and steps away from you both, his posture shrinking. He starts to make his way toward the exit, attempting to ignore the stares of everyone in the store but is stopped before he can make it out.

"And where do you think you're going?" Bada's hardened voice echoes through the store, making the man freeze in his spot, his entire body going rigid.

Bada's footsteps slowly approach him from behind again and stop just shy of him.

"You made her drop her clothing."

The man turns around, avoiding eye contact with Bada and finding your eyes instead. He's about to mumble an apology when she speaks up again.

"Pick it up." She demands flatly.

The man stays still in his spot, shocked and embarrassed. But clearly, he didn't move fast enough for Bada's liking, because he feels himself get shoved in your direction, almost falling onto his face.

"Do it. Now." She says, her voice bordering on yelling.

Immediately, the man throws himself onto the floor, scrambling to pick up every article of clothing he made you drop. He does so as quickly as possible, then stands up, about to pass you the clothing, when he feels Bada's unwavering gaze bore into him and decides it's in his best interest not to touch you anymore, so he carefully drapes the clothes across your arms.

He turns back to face Bada, approaching her with a cold sweat.

"Hold on." She stops him yet again. "You bumped into her, didn't you?"

"I--" He tries to explain himself but is cut off.

"Apologize."

This time, the man wastes no time in fulfilling her demands. He turns to you, apologizing profusely while shaking like a leaf. You're unable to even think about accepting his apologies before he practically runs to the store doors, throws them open, trying to leave the mall. But as always, Bada is ten steps ahead.

She nods at your bodyguard, who grabs onto the man's suit with little effort, turns him around, and punches him straight in the gut.

Bada then steps in front of you, blocking you from seeing what your bodyguard is doing to the man. Her hands grab the clothing from your arms, relieving you of their weight before slinging them across her right shoulder. She then gently holds your wrist up to her eyes, the ice behind them shifting to a warm and caring glow.

"Does it hurt?" She asks softly.

You feel your body turn to mush at the attention she gives you. "A little."

Bada sighs, leans in, and places her soft lips against your wrist, kissing it with a reverence and sweetness everyone besides you is surprised to see.

It's clear to everyone that the ice around Bada's heart melts only for you.

enflame: to excite to excessive or uncontrollable action or feeling

[thoughtfulfiction]

Little Duckling

Author’s note: reposting my old work on this side blog! Let me know if you’d like to read a specific one. Thank you for reading!

Warning: pregnancy and childbirth

Saturday 10pm

Justin had been asleep for almost two hours as you folded laundry and put it away in the nursery. Your induction was scheduled for Monday morning promptly at 8am and everyone within the Chargers organization knew that this was happening because your husband absolutely hated taking the day off. But this was understandably a special exception to the rule. You’d spent the last 9 months mentally and physically preparing yourself for this moment but the idea of having a human being relying on you for everything was still such a daunting task that you almost wished the day wouldn’t come. Not until you felt completely prepared at least.

And then the ache in your back and hips reminded you that your baby girl was quickly running out of room and would be making her entrance soon, whether you and your husband were ready or not. On the bright side, your stomach had dropped significantly in the last few days, allowing you to breathe easier and for Justin to poke fun at your pronounced waddle. He affectionately started calling you Mumble last week, from Happy Feet. The dad jokes were coming in strong.

You heaved yourself out of the chair you were parked in and were headed off to bed before a slight pain wrapped itself around the base of your stomach. The pressure moved from the back to the front, settling on a spot underneath your belly button. You stopped walking and used the wall to support yourself, rubbing small circles around the area until it passed. As a Braxton-Hicks veteran, you continued your trek to the bedroom, completed your nighttime routine and headed off to bed.

Sunday 2am

It happened again. The slight twinge of discomfort had you holding your breath for about 15 seconds before letting go and you had to take several deep breaths to recover. After a few minutes everything was normal again and you had to turn around to make sure that Justin was still asleep next to you. Throughout your pregnancy he’d become a much lighter sleeper, often waking up at ungodly hours to get you snacks or a few nights when you caught him talking to your belly, whether it was talking about the playbook or just telling her he couldn’t wait to meet her, it warmed your heart just the same. But you were thankful for now that he just missed that entire exchange because you were definitely not in labor…right?

Sunday 7am

You were definitely in labor. On a Sunday, when the Chargers were playing the Broncos at home. Of course. You’d experienced three contractions so far, just about four hours apart so you had plenty of time. There was no way in hell you were telling Justin. As soon as it was appropriate, you scooted yourself out of bed and went down to the home gym for some prenatal yoga and a good stretch, hoping it would provide a boost of positive energy. Then you hopped in the shower, allowing the warm water would relax your tense muscles and maybe help you delay the inevitable.

By 8:30 Justin was awake and making breakfast for the two of you while you sat on the couch watching New Girl. He brought your plate and a cup of orange juice to you which you were grateful for, but the thought of putting anything but the juice in your body made your stomach turn.

“Are you alright? You’ve barely touched your avocado toast and you’ve been devouring it the last few days.” He ran a gentle hand on your forehead like he was checking your temperature and caressed your cheek when he realized you weren’t abnormally warm. “I can make you something else before I leave if you want?”

“No, I’m fine! Just not hungry yet, I’ll probably eat later.” You lied through your teeth, desperately hoping that he would let it go. The excuse seemed to satisfy him enough for him to head back upstairs to watch some film and get ready. An hour and a half later, he headed downstairs just in time to find you stretching out your back, the cramp beginning to wash over you.

He replaced your hands with his own, slightly lifting your stomach to take the weight off for a bit. “Your stomach is hard as a rock,” he observed furrowing his brows and starting to piece things together. “Are you sure everything is ok?” His soft voice attempted to mask his worry filled words.

“Yeah I’m having a fake contraction, you know they’re so common these days.” You rushed out, attempting to use his extensive research against him. He could probably write his own version of “What to Expect When You’re Expecting” with his newfound pregnancy knowledge. It was both impressive and scary how much he had grown to know what’s going on in your body before you did.

Although he nods his head in understanding, his face is still full of distress. And you could tell he was analyzing your words and tone of voice for any sign that you were lying, leaving you to mentally curse at the fact that he knew you so well and you’d need to work extra hard to convince him to go on like this was a normal day.

Although he let out a deep sigh, he didn’t ask any further questions. “I know, I just hate the thought of you being in pain and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

You tap his wrist so he can slowly drop your belly and you turn around in his arms. “You’re so cute, but it really isn’t that bad. A lot less painful than playing with ankle that’s hanging on by a shoestring I can tell you that.” You chuckle, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your back and you felt compelled to return the favor, sensing he too needed some comfort. “Here’s what’s gonna happen today though. You are going to go and kick Denver’s ass then you’re going to come home, we’ll celebrate and then tomorrow you’ll be on your way to being the greatest dad to ever live. How does that sound?”

Justin chuckles, giving you a peck on the lips, nose and forehead. “If I’m half as good a parent as I know you will be, then I know I’ll be golden.”

“Stop it before I start crying, you know I’m super hormonal right now this isn’t fair.” You mumble, tears brimming your eyes. He gives you one last kiss before reminding you to call your friend Dani to stay with you, even though your moms were on their way to your home.

Once he pulled out of the driveway you could relax, letting out a deep sigh and patting your swollen middle. Crisis averted.

For now.

Sunday 12pm

Contractions were officially every hour and Dani was trying her best not to freak out in order not to freak you out. But she was definitely freaking out. What started out as more intense period cramps were becoming a lot sharper, so much so that you couldn’t even focus on Encanto, which was the last sign you needed to know that this was the real thing. You did manage to eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and take a nap while she was with you, fluffing your pillows and telling you that you were doing amazing. Three hours later, there was a knock at the door and Dani went to open it for Holly and your mom. The two becoming best friends was probably the cutest thing in the world and your mom had even flown to Oregon three days before just to spend time with Holly and drive to California with her. They were the sweetest. And of course they brought snacks. There were lactation cookies for you in the freezer already but they brought more and they brought an abundance of food to eat during the game, which usually would have made your day, but today all it did was make you want to stick your face in the toilet.

You greeted the two women with hugs as Dani helped set up their spread and they immediately asked how you were feeling.

“I just woke up not too long ago so I’m feeling great now. Very ready to not be pregnant anymore so I can see my f—ohhh wow. Ow.” You groaned, one hand on your contracting belly and the other gripping the counter for dear life.

Dani’s eyes bug out of her head as she moves to rub your back. “That was the roughest one yet.” She was right, this one left your whole body sore, a loud reminder that things were definitely moving along.

“This one?” Your mom questions, looking between you and Dani. Then, she and Holly exchange a look.

“Oh my gosh sweetie, you’re in labor!” Holly exclaims, “we need to get a hold of Justin immediately. I’ll call Mark, I’m sure he’s already at the stadium.”

You cannot shake your head fast enough, “there’s no need to call him yet, that was the first bad one. And this game is important.”

“It’s Justin hun, every game is important,” Holly laughs, giving you a loving squeeze.

“But you know what’s even more important to him? You and that baby girl that’s getting ready to meet us soon. Are you sure you don’t want to tell him now?”

“I’m sure,” you sigh, allowing your mom to guide you back to the couch, sinking down into it with a groan. “Once the game is over he’ll be here and we’ll go have a baby. But not a moment before.”

Admittedly, it was getting harder to focus. Justin was playing great, but of course so was Bo Nix. The Chargers would score and the Broncos would answer. The Broncos would get a stop and the Chargers would force a punt. You were entertained but the battle happening within you was the most interesting one to the people in your house.

Your mom had gone down to find your birthing ball, which helped for about half a quarter, just in time for a Ladd McConkey touchdown to put the Chargers up by 10. By the end of the third you were forced into a squat behind one of the couches, spreading your legs to hopefully ease the increasing pressure on your hips. You breathed through the contraction, the sensation sending a pins and needles feeling near your tailbone. Holly made sure you stayed hydrated, having secretly texted her husband halfway through the fourth quarter when the game was firmly in hand to have their son home as soon as humanly possible. Contractions creeped on 30 minutes apart, leaving you panting and groaning in discomfort until your muscles relaxed.

Fifteen minutes later, you were pacing around the living room and you had to stop to hold onto the couch again, your mom helping you roll your hips as you felt thin beads of sweat building around your hairline. Things were getting real and scary and you needed Justin.

“What time is it?” You murmured, cupping your stomach with a hiss as the baby moved.

“It’s 7:15 and he’s on his way home, baby.” Your mom whispers, sensing your increasing distress, “he’ll be here soon.”

“My back hurts,” you state suddenly, a slight tremble in your voice. “Everything really hurts.”

Your mom grabs at your hips, squeezing them together to apply counter pressure, giving you momentary relief.

Dani was in charge of timing contractions and all you knew was the moment in between them where you could actually form a coherent thought. Time was no longer real. You headed upstairs for some time to yourself and a wave of nausea hit you and you emptied probably everything you’d eaten the entire day, which in hindsight probably wasn’t much. But you weren’t in the headspace to think clearly right now. You walked back towards to the bedroom and clutched the doorway, visibly feeling the heaviness of the baby moving down, almost sending you to your knees if it weren’t for the solid, calming presence that was suddenly in front of you.

“Hey babe.” You breathe out, feeling a little unsure that your legs were capable of holding you up until you could sit on the bed.

He pulled you into his arms as close as your belly would allow and pressed his lips your forehead. “Hi. Glad I could make it back in time. I knew something was off with you this morning,” he narrowed his eyebrows at you when he pulled away, walking you slowly back into the room placing a firm hand on the small of your back, making circles with it while holding your hand with the other. “Alright baby…long have you been in labor?”

You let out a dry laugh at his disappointed dad look. “Since 10 last night I think? But let’s focus on the important things, you played great and you won but man you guys really took a minute to shut the door on ‘em.”

“Right, the important things.” He says with a knowing smile. “I know you love football as much as I do now, but if you told me earlier I would’ve been at your side in a heartbeat. You know that, right?”

God, you hoped your baby had his caring heart. “I do know that, I really do. But I also knew that you’d be able to do both. The Chargers are your family too and—”

A contraction creeped up on you, leaving you to hold onto your husband’s forearms with a sharp sound of pain, the pressure reaching an overwhelming peak that you hadn’t experienced before.

“Squeeze as much as you want, it’s okay.” His voice attempts to soothe you but you couldn’t hear him over the animalistic grunt that escaped you. Your body tensed involuntarily and he could see your stomach hardening as the tension continued to build. There was nothing more he could do than hold you through it, until something gave way and the floodgates opened…literally.

Even he sounded breathless by the end of it. “Your water just broke.”

Sunday 10pm

Contractions in the house were terrible. But contractions in the car, with no cushion from the water bag made it feel like she was right between your legs.

“Justin, you have to go faster. Please.” You panted out, desperately clutching the grab handle and leaning your head back with a loud moan. “Can you turn on the air, I’m dying in here. And I need to put the seat back, my back is killing me, I’m sorry.” You felt like a turtle stuck on its back, waiting for someone to turn it over and set it free.

“Yeah, yeah do whatever you need. And you don’t need to apologize,” he pats you on the leg, “do whatever makes you comfortable, we’ll be there soon.” He kept looking between you and the road, slightly worried that he’d have to deliver the baby in the car. The only thing that slightly reassured him the whole drive was your sigh of relief when the fan came on. First babies were supposed to take a while but he’d missed the entirety early labor, so from the sounds that he was hearing he figured you were in or at the very least extremely close to the transition stage. His grip on the steering wheel tightened and remained that way until the birthing center came into view. Your parents had called ahead and would meet you there when given the word, so all you had to do was check in and you were brought to your private suite.

Seven centimeters dilated and without painkillers made your husband question any football toughness he thought he had. You were so close to meeting your baby and he was a mix of anxiousness, nerves and excitement. Most of all he felt so much love and admiration for your determination and strength. Holding off on telling him you were in labor so he could be there to get the job done with his teammates was one thing and it was a complete whirlwind to be there with you while you worked to bring your baby into the world.

Once he was finally able to tear his eyes off the baby’s heart monitor, all of his focus was back on you. He wasn’t going to say anything but the agony in your voice was really starting to take a toll on him. Months of mental preparation for this moment was nothing like the real thing and he felt utterly helpless, desperately trying to maintain some sort of control and be helpful in any way.

“Honey you’re shaking, are you cold?” Without even giving you time to answer he was up on his feet, reaching for his bag to grab the blanket he’d seen you drape over yourself on several movie night occasions.

You shake your head while your teeth continue to chatter, reaching for his left hand, “I think it’s the adrenaline. I’m okay I promise,” you shift uncomfortably in bed, trying to just go along with how your body is feeling and reacting. Your belly tightens, a white hot pain generating an unexpected moan as you palmed your stomach. Justin places his hand on top of yours, whispering to you that the contraction is almost over and constantly reminding you that you’re doing great.

The two of you decided to use gravity to your advantage and walk around the building since the entire floor was closed off at your husband’s request. He couldn’t risk anyone leaking the most private and cherished moment in his life.

“I can’t believe this is our last night as a duo.” Justin whispers, walking at a snail’s pace while you waddled alongside him. “It’s been a great ride, pal.”

“Wouldn’t want to do it with anyone else. And I have a feeling this ride is going to get a lot more interesting from here on out.” You gave your belly a soothing pat.

He strokes your back as you sway your hips again, “thank you for choosing me to be the one that gets to do this with you. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, more than anything in the world.” You grin, pulling him in for a soft kiss. His hand cups your face as he pulls you in even closer. The kiss oozed joy and gratitude. Your husband wasn’t a man of many words, but his actions spoke volumes.

You squeeze his arm again suddenly as pain bubbles deep in your core and you rip yourself away from him to press your lips together to stifle a yell. “We need to get back to the room. Now.”

The noises leaving your body would have horrified you if you weren’t already sitting backwards on the toilet wearing only an oversized t-shirt, with your legs spread and the man of your dreams digging his thumbs into your back. “Harder please,” you groan, feeling like your tailbone is seconds away from shattering.

“I’m not getting a break,” you cry, clenching your jaw, leaning back and asking him to help you up. He hooks his hands under your arms and basically lifts you to your feet. “It’s not stopping, I can’t—oh fuck.” It felt like you were going to throw up, but out of the other end, which could only mean one thing. “She’s—Justin she’s coming right now. I have to push.” You took a breath and focused completely inward, your entire body going rigid, shaky straining sounds of effort pouring out of you.

The quarterback immediately sprang into action,“easy babe, breathe. I’ve got you.”

You held onto one of his hands and moved into a squat on your shaky legs as he pressed the red button on the side of the bathroom door, allowing your midwife to come in.

The baby felt like it was seconds away from falling out, everything suddenly feeling like it was moving a mile a minute. The midwife was saying something but the ringing in your ears was so loud you couldn’t focus on anything but getting your baby delivered.

After another throaty shove, you came back to yourself a little, feeling a gentle hand rubbing your shoulder. “Babe? You gotta slow down. Take a second, I can already see her a little bit you can give yourself some time.”

“I can’t, the pressure is too much!” Tucking your chin to your chest, you let out a yelp as you push again, using him as a solid wall to rest against as you spread your legs to give your baby more room. “Holy fuck your baby is huge,” your husband and the midwife both laugh, “I’m sorry it’s just—this is really hard.”

Pushing felt good, even though it left you shaking like a leaf in a cold and sweaty frenzy. At some point during the delivery he’d pushed your hair back with his lucky headband that was always around his wrist if it wasn’t on his head. It was the most intense experience of your life but you took one look at those bright green eyes and he reminded you that he was with you the entire time and you knew you could do anything with him by your side.

Remington Grace Herbert was born Monday morning at 1:42am with those exact same eyes that you fell in love with.

“Hi Remi,” Justin sobs, kissing her cheek. “We’ve been waiting for you, baby girl.”

“She sure knows how to make an entrance.”

You hand her off to her dad after scooting over to give him more room on the bed. He wraps a free arm around you, securely holding her in his other one, totally in awe. “She’s so perfect. You’re perfect. You did so amazing, I’m so freaking proud of you.” He kisses the side of your head.

You cuddle into him with a content sigh, “Our perfect little duckling is finally here.”

[p0orbaby]

a leah x reader blurb where leah has a nightmare, she wakes you, and she’s genuinely upset. you comfort her, when she tells you about it’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve heard, you’re struggling not to laugh because leahs genuinely upset.

-

The night is dark, and your room is soaked in the kind of silence that only 3 a.m. can produce. Until, of course, Leah startles you awake. She’s sitting bolt upright, clutching the duvet like it’s the last line of defence in a war. You blink the sleep away, registering the panic in her eyes. She’s not like this often—usually steady and unruffled, even when Arsenal loses, even when the media is chewing on her career like a dog with a bone. So, seeing her like this sets something off in you. Instinct. Worry.

But it’s just as you’re about to ask if she’s alright, if she’s hurt, that she blurts out, “I dreamt I was being chased by a swarm of bees”

A pause, because the stupidity of it lingers in the air like a stubborn fly. She’s gripping your wrist now, like it’s your fault somehow, and you’re doing your best to look concerned—sympathetic even—but your lips twitch involuntarily. She’s genuinely upset, eyes wide, breath coming in shallow little bursts, and all you can think about is how ridiculous it is for a full-grown woman, a defender no less, to be traumatised by a nightmare involving bees. Not even killer bees—just normal, garden-variety buzzing things.

You clear your throat, trying to keep your voice steady. “How many bees, exactly?” you ask, because it seems like the appropriate level of absurd detail that might diffuse the situation.

���All of them,” she says, dead serious. “Trillions”

You picture her, Arsenal captain, England star, sprinting from an exaggerated cloud of cartoonish bees, legs pumping like something out of an old Looney Tunes episode. It’s the kind of mental image that’s almost too much to bear, and you have to bite down on the inside of your cheek to keep from bursting into laughter. She’s still gripping your wrist, holding on for dear life, and it’s genuinely endearing in a strange way. You haven’t seen her like this since she got that dodgy pre-season haircut, and even then, she was half-laughing at herself.

“You know they’re not real, right?” you say, keeping your voice gentle but there’s a hint of a smirk curling your lips despite your best efforts.

“I know,” she huffs, flopping back against the pillows in exasperation. “It’s just… They were everywhere, and I couldn’t get away. They had this horrible, droning sound…” She trails off, her hand finding its way to your arm again, her fingers curling against your skin. There’s a brief silence where you can’t decide whether to laugh or apologise for the universe’s cruelty in allowing such an absurd nightmare to exist.

“It’s probably karma,” you say after a moment, because if there’s one thing you’ve learned from years of being with Leah, it’s that she appreciates brutal honesty, even in the wee hours of the morning. “You did laugh at that poor bloke at the pub last week. The one who swallowed the wasp that died in his pint”

You feel her glare more than you see it. But then, finally, a begrudging smile breaks through, and she exhales a shaky laugh that tells you the worst of it’s over. She’s fine, really. Just had a bit of a fright. She leans against you, her forehead resting on your shoulder, and you can feel her settling, breathing slower.

“Honestly,” you murmur, running a hand through her hair, “if a swarm of bees is all it takes to scare you, I think the rest of us are in trouble”

She pinches your side in retaliation, but it’s more affectionate than anything else. You press a kiss to her temple, and somehow, without even trying, you’ve turned her nightmare into a joke the two of you will recycle for weeks.

[grandline-fics]

Immune To Your Charms

DESCRIPTION: Soulmates are incapable of harming the other in any way. Normally that would be a good thing but not when you're meant to be enemies.

WARNINGS: It's Doflamingo so be warned if he's not someone you like to read about. Strangely this one a lot on the softer side Soulmate! AU, Enemies to Lovers

CHARACTERS: Doflamingo

WORDS: 2,579

A/N: Part of the Good For Your Soul Series. The next part is here and have we maybe got things being a little more amicable? The next part should be were things begin to ramp up if it all goes to plan. Hope you enjoy this one for now

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six (here) | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven(coming soon)

——————

You knew you had been exhausted but you hadn’t realised just how much. You woke slowly, unable to really consider or care how much time had passed or what had happened while you were sleeping so soundly. Vaguely you recalled Doflamingo and revealing to him that a group of pirates were attempting to cheat him out of weapons but more importantly you recalled how he’s promised not to interfere with your sleep. Mind still hazy with the long, unbroken bliss of sleep you found yourself surprised he had kept true to his word. So it seemed the Warlord and King of Dressrosa was capable of being decent? No, no, no. Furiously you forced that thought out of your head, telling yourself that those kinds of thoughts were clear signs you still needed to sleep. 

Eyes still closed you reached out with the intention of pulling yourself closer against one of your pillows and go back to sleep. The second you’d done that though, you felt a hand flex against your thigh. Finally you forced yourself to open your eyes and truly take notice of your surroundings. Immediately you were met with the sight of Doflamingo’s broad chest and blinked rapidly in confusion. Only now did you see you were in his office and given how bright it was, it was mid morning. As confusing as this was, it was even more unnerving to not hear Doflamingo’s chuckle or taunting remark. 

Looking up you were met with the sight of him fast asleep, his breathing deep and even and the chair you were both on reclined back as far as it could. His other hand was tucked behind his head and you found yourself taking in how relaxed he truly seemed which was strange. Still you couldn’t fathom how you’d slept like this, regardless of how tired you had been. A long yawn built in your chest and you stretched only to find your limbs were still heavy and not as responsive as you wanted them to be. Even the thought of sitting up just yet felt like it would be using too much energy. With a small groan you remained lying against Doflamingo’s chest, your eyebrow arched when you felt a subtle change in the way the man beneath you breathed. You couldn’t explain it but some part of you knew he’d woken. 

“Explain.” You spoke lowly and Doflamingo chuckled, his own eyes slowly opening to watch you make no move to get off of him even now that you were awake. At the very least he would have thought you’d have pushed his hand off of your leg that he’d only placed there to keep you in place as you slept. He would have thought after the hours of uninterrupted sleep you’d just gotten would be enough, he guessed not. 

“Good morning to you too.” He grinned down at you, lifting his hand away from the back of his head to poke your forehead enough to make you tilt your head back and look at him. His grin widened at the sight of sleepy frustration taking over your once peaceful expression. “You fell asleep on me, quite rude if you ask me. Good thing I’m kind and allowed you to stay right here while you slept.”

“Yeah out of the two of us, I’m clearly the one with bad manners.” 

“Point proven.” Doflamingo insisted. “You don’t speak to a King appropriately even when you’re draped over the top of him. What happened to all that important Marine training?”

“One, the so-called King lifted me from my bed and set me on his lap.” You began, your memory slowly clawing back from the depths of your exhaustion. “Two, technically I’m no longer a Marine so I don’t need to address anyone in a way I don’t wish to anymore.”

“Is there a third thing?” Doflamingo drawled with a grin while you rolled your eyes. 

“Probably would be if I wasn’t sleep deprived and could think properly.” To emphasise your point, another yawn broke from your lips and you glowered when Doflamingo began to laugh. “So why didn’t you move me when I fell asleep?”

“And risk waking you and that mean I didn’t keep my word? Never.” Doflamingo asked with false concern, that the very thought of disturbing your sleep was the worst thing in the world for him. Once again you rolled your eyes at his words, slowly feeling your mind sharpen. As much as you would have loved to keep sleeping, now knowing what-or rather who- you were lying against you decided it wasn’t something you wanted to indulge. You’d endured missions in the past that had pushed you towards this feeling of exhaustion, you could handle this. 

“I discovered something interesting while you slept you know.” At Doflamingo’s words you regarded him carefully, the lightheartedness in his tone and his still reclined position made you wary, not knowing what he was going to throw at you next. Silently you followed his hand as it drew closer to your face again. Then his fingers slid into your hair, pressing and making his nails lightly scratch against your scalp. Instantly your body betrayed you by reacting to the feeling, your head leant into the touch and your body relaxed, a small content hum slipping from your lips. You snapped your eyes open to glare at Doflamingo, his smug expression pissing you off to no end. Suspicion then took hold as you wondered how he managed to discover how to get this particular reaction out of you. As if reading your mind, he answered. “I covered your head when I got a call and you reacted…not as strongly as you did now though.” He grinned, moving his fingers again and his laughter built when you fought against your natural reaction by leaning back and trying to force your hand up to push or pull his hand away but all you could manage was wrapping your fingers around his wrist. 

It was unnerving in a way to be touched by him in this way. Normally you never so much as batted an eye when he was trying to hurt or kill you but this? This was different and now that you were a little more alert, you needed to restore the balance. Unfortunately you didn’t get the chance to do so immediately because in seconds you heard the sound of footsteps approaching and the door swung open while a cheerful voice called out. “Doffy, you’re late for breakfast! Did you spend all night in your office ag-“ 

You looked to see not just one of his annoying ‘family members’ standing in the doorway but many of them. You did nothing to hold back your evident distaste for the sight of them and finally pulled Doflamingo’s hand from your head and began to stand, only now noticing that his hand had been on your thigh the entire time too when his fingers twitched at your sudden move to get off of him. Without looking back or caring to acknowledge any of the others you strode out of the room, biting back the want to smirk when they immediately stepped out of your way. You did however roll your eyes when you heard Dellinger’s voice echo through the corridor. “First the library, now here?” Gossip in Dressrosa’s palace always did seem to spread quickly. “Doffy’s so amorous with his soulmate.” 

While nothing else was outright said that morning in front of Doflamingo while he and the family ate their breakfast together, it was playing on a lot of their minds. They’d accepted you were their master’s soulmate and with the added order of not being allowed to harm you, it meant you were practically the same rank as Doflamingo to some of them. Others saw it as the clear progression of things, believing that this was the sign you were finally learning to respect Doflamingo and serve him as a good soulmate was meant to. The more romantic members of the group, like Baby Five, all but swooned at the scene they had intruded upon as it replayed in their mind. Regardless, none of them would think of the more simplistic answer that it was just another ill-timed intrusion that made things seem more than what they really were. As Doflamingo raised his cup to his lips he felt one stare in particular and looked down the table to meet Violet’s gaze. While her expression was composed, the look in her eyes told him everything she wanted to. ‘I told you so.’

———-

“You’re a funny little thing, you know that?” You’d been happily lounging in the palace gardens, enjoying the bright sun and relaxing silence only to feel your peace immediately soured by the shadow that now loomed over you and the voice that had accompanied it. With a sigh you opened your eyes to frown at Diamante. “All that defiance and disrespect when really you’re just as loyal to Doffy as we are.”

“You get hit on the head or something?” You asked with a cruel laugh. “No loyalty here.”

“He told us about the information you gave him, about those pirates thinking they could steal from him?” Diamante’s tone was smug and you let out a huff of annoyance, pulling yourself up to sit up on the bench you’d been lying on. Casually you draped an arm across the back of the seat and stared up at the tall man still towering over you. “Why tell him that if it wasn’t out of loyalty and protecting his reputation?”

“Oh you are so deluded if you think that was my intention.” You laughed at the elite officer. “I planted the seed of getting him to think about the betrayal as a way to annoy him and get under his skin. I was happy to leave it at that and let him work it out on his own and only revealed the full truth of the matter and told him what I knew when I was getting something of value out of it. At the end of the day, I’m the one who benefits more.”

“Interesting statement. How so?”

"He gets angered to know that regardless of the reputation he and his aliases have, there’s always going to be someone who will look to best him and had I not said anything they would have. Your precious Doffy thinks he’s untouchable and that overconfidence needs a reality check.” You explained with a shrug. “Now that he know about this I bet he’s already scheming how to make them pay. Again, I win. It means less pirates out there in the world and they’re guaranteed suffering before they die.”

It surprised you to see Diamante grin and begin to laugh at your explanation for your actions. You’d hoped it would have annoyed him to understand your motivations had nothing to do with pleasing Doflamingo but instead you’d acted the way you had for your own satisfaction. “Maybe you really are suited to be the young master’s soulmate after all.” Your face dropped at that, then the insult continued as he turned and left you all after adding. “You’re more like him than you think.”

———-

Doflamingo chuckled to himself as he thought of Bellamy’s report that he was a week away and that the ‘honoured guests’ had no idea what was waiting for them. It would be worth the wait to finally see those disgusting worms face to face and let them dig a deeper hole for themselves until he finally let his wrath rain down on them and kill them slowly and painfully. As much as the additional influence and share of profits and resources would have been, he couldn’t deny how much more satisfying this was going to be. Truth be told, he was actually grateful that things had worked out this way. The chance to take his frustrations and killing impulses out on a bunch of nobodies with no ramifications or major changes to his life was too good of an opportunity to pass up. And he had you to thank. 

He looked out the window to see you in the gardens talking to Diamante. While he couldn’t hear what was being said, your body language said it all. He could already hear the tone you were taking with his elite officer. Even though Diamante stood over you and looked down on you, you were unaffected. Your gaze still sharp and unwavering, chin jutted up slightly and regarding him coolly, a small smirk on your lips as you listened to whatever it was being said to you. His attention on you was broken briefly when one of the servants came by to make their daily report on the evening’s preparations. Idly he listened and nodded, dismissing them quickly with a wave. The servant was only too eager to go back to their duties and away from his intimidating presence. Left alone once more, Doflamingo looked out the window again to see Diamante was gone and you were lying down on the bench. While your eyes were closed, you weren’t sleeping. 

Doflamingo threw open the window and dropped out with a single step, using his strings to keep him suspended in the air, hovering just above you and casting a shadow over your face. His grin stretched when you scowled. An annoyed huff broke through your lips and you opened your eyes only to see him smiling down at you. At least it wasn’t another one of his adoring family members, convincing yourself he was the lesser of the evils to deal with in the palace. “Can I help you?” You asked calmly before holding up a hand to stop him from answering immediately. “Keep in mind that’s a rhetorical question and I will not be inclined to help you unless I see some sort of reward from it.”

“Isn’t making me happy a suitable reward?” Doflamingo teased, crouching in the air while you let out a dismissive laugh. 

“Punishment.” You corrected while tucking your hands behind your head. “So? What’s the reason for this visit? Another killing attempt? You haven’t tried to throw me off the roof or out a window yet…”

“Oh no, I’ll do that when you’re least expecting it. I like to keep the element of surprise.” Doflamingo chuckled while your lips pulled up slightly. “I’m here to tell you things are in being put place for the arrival of our guests. Since you’re the reason this is happening, I want you to help.”

“Help?” You questioned. “What, pretend to be your loyal little servant for your own amusement so you can order me about and watch me finally obey before you kill them?”

“As tempting as that would be,” Doflamingo conceded as his thoughts of you acting like the obedient servant began to conjure in his mind. “I was just going to offer you the chance to help finishing them off. As thanks.”

“Hmmm…” You considered the offer with a hum, lips pursing slightly in consideration. Could you really count on Doflamingo not to pull some sort of stunt to tip the scales of power over you in his favour when for the most part you’d managed to keep things somewhat level considering the circumstances. “I’ll think about it. No promises.” Was the only answer you could bring yourself to offer him for the moment and oddly Doflamingo seemed to accept your answer.

----------------------------------------------

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[starmapz]

shame on me || chapter eleven || safety

gojo satoru x female vessel reader

❝gojo satoru is the strongest sorcerer. when you come along with power to match his own, his responsibility to the world gets the best of him and his first impression is poor to say the least. when he needs your help, by some miracle you're too kind to deny him. or maybe he's just manipulative enough to convince you. either way, you're stuck training his student, a vessel like you. what could possibly go wrong?❞

warnings || 18+ only. contains explicit content. enemies to lovers. extreme angst. graphic descriptions of injury and death. hurt/no comfort. hurt/comfort. fluff. major character death. anxiety. panic attacks. extreme slow burn. eventual smut. p in v. oral (f! and m! receiving). praise. overstimulation. unprotected. fingering. mating press. slight nanami x reader. happy ending!

additional tags || gojo is a dumbass but very lovable. very very very minor love triangle, will not be a main theme. no competing. takes place after season 2. au where gojo is not sealed and the shibuya incident does not go down the same. nanami is alive. choso is around. no major manga spoilers but will contain themes and ideas touched on later.

wc || 9.1k.

edited but not beta-read.

series masterlist || main masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter

Anticipation eats you alive throughout the night as you groan to yourself each time you wake up in the early morning hours to glance at the time. Strangely excited to see what Gojo has planned for your date, it seemed it was managing to keep you awake, much to your dismay.

It’s not until seven in the morning that you feel you can acceptably rise for the day, deciding to busy yourself by getting ready. As you turn on the shower, you can hear heavy footsteps overhead, which is unusual for this time and you wonder if the anticipation is eating away at Satoru just as it is at you.

You giggle to yourself at the thought. To think that the two people who could barely stand to be in a room with one another were now barely able to sleep like children awaiting Christmas morning all for a date.

What a world.

Choosing an outfit for the date is an equally difficult task. Of course, you know he’ll compliment you no matter what you wear, but you really hadn’t brought that much clothing since moving here a few months ago in the grand scheme of things. You wanted to wear something for the occasion.

As you eye your closet from where you’d plopped down on your back over barely folded blankets, one dress catches your eye. A small black dress, more form-fitting than your usual sundresses, though still fairly casual, that falls quite high on your thighs and reveals more skin than you usually show off as well.

The same black dress Satoru had commented on when you’d carried it over to the cabin.

Pushing yourself to your feet, you pull it on over your head, flattening it down as you stare at yourself in the mirror. It hugs your curves in just the right way, accentuating your form in a way that makes you feel hot, although you wonder if it’ll even be appropriate for whatever Satoru has planned.

Steeling your resolve, you throw on a cute light brown cardigan over the dress to feign a more casual look and head out to the kitchen.

Satoru’s back faces you. His hair is damp, fresh from a shower and dripping down his bare back. His muscles ripple in the most eye-catching way as you catch yourself practically drooling over him. A pair of gray slacks hangs low on his hips, while a button-up shirt hangs from the back of the chair. Maybe the dress wouldn’t be too fancy after all.

Taking a few steps into the kitchen, you peer over Satoru’s side to see what he’s cooking. It’s rare to find him cooking on a Sunday. Or at all, really. Now that you were feeling better, Satoru rarely got in front of the stove aside from Saturday mornings. You’d taken to cooking more often and he’d returned to his poor eating habits, which you made sure to scold him for.

Of course, Gojo wasn’t always the best listener. He didn’t care much for your lessons in taking care of himself.

“Well don’t you look gorgeous?” He grins at you from over the rounds of his glasses.

Blush paints your cheeks at his compliment as you smile up at him through your lashes.

“Pretty thing like you might just take my breath away,” he smirks, flipping a pancake.

“Toruuu,” you let out a breathy chuckle, averting your gaze from his striking blue ones that bore into you.

Setting the spatula down, he turns to face you, chuckling at the way your eyes travel his toned frame with little subtlety. “Nuh uh,” he chides, a forefinger and thumb gently lifting your chin as he leans down to your level. Your breath hitches at the close proximity. “C’mon, give me a twirl.”

He takes a step back, making a small spinning motion with his finger. His face twists into one of mock thought, as though he’s judging you like a contestant on one of the cheesy reality shows he loves to watch.

You giggle shyly, indulging him as you twirl, your cardigan splaying out during the action.

With playfully narrowed eyes and a hand held to his chin, he hums as though in thought. “You know, I think to judge properly, I might just need another one.” His eyes glint with mischief as you scoff at him.

Giving him one more twirl, he reaches out and pulls you against him mid-spin. “Fucking gorgeous,” he mumbles into your hair as you let out a surprised squeak at the sudden action. “I give you a solid eleven out of ten.”

“Satoru!” You cry out, pushing against him as he all but crushes you in his tight bear hug.

“I think you deserve more points, but I was only allowed to give ten so eleven was pushing it,” he chuckles slyly, kissing the crown of your head before letting you go.

Smoothing out your dress, you huff in mock exasperation. “You’re such a handful,” you grumble. He hums as though that’s obvious, returning his attention to the pancakes as he flips the pan and dumps two out onto a plate. He sets them on the table, pulling out a chair for you.

Thanking him, you take a bite and smile.

“What has you up so early?” You query with a tilt of your head.

He glances over his shoulder at you. “Wanted to make you breakfast and heard you were awake.”

“I heard you walking around when I was getting in the shower,” you confront him with a raised eyebrow.

“Sleep and I aren’t the best of buddies,” he admits with his back to you, though you can hear the frown in how he speaks.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he shoots you a smile. “Don’t you worry about a thing.”

“You know I ask because I do worry about you, right?”

He remains facing the stove, flipping both pancakes silently. You know this side of Satoru, the side that shuts down any and all questions about him because he feels the need to be strong.

“Satoru, please,” you plead with him, not wanting this to become another fight. You’d both grown past that, or so you thought. He faces away from you still, fiddling with the spatula’s handle.

“I haven’t slept since the attack,” he admits quietly, still refusing to meet your gaze.

“The attack… two months ago?”

He nods in confirmation, those eerily intense blue eyes fixed on you as he glances over his shoulder.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Your brow knits together in concern, a crease forming at the bridge of your nose.

His mouth opens and closes once, twice. He sighs, clearly growing frustrated and you wonder how dangerously close you teeter on the edge of this becoming a real argument. All you can truly do is keep your own frustration from getting out of hand.

Setting your fork and knife down as silently as possible in an effort to keep things calm, you slowly get to your feet, traversing the kitchen in three easy steps to set a gentle hand on his bicep. He’s tense beneath your fingers, but takes in a breath.

“‘Cause I felt like I was treading on eggshells around you until the other week,” he practically whispers, an admission that feels like pulling teeth to get out of him for both him and you.

You nod slowly, a pang of hurt clenching in your chest, though you know that isn’t fair. You’re both aware of the fact that the feeling was mutual.

“I understand,” you hum quietly, squeezing his bicep reassuringly. His arm relaxes somewhat as he shoots you a glance, examining your expression. “I’m not gonna force you to answer or anything, but what happened?”

The glimmer that passes through his eyes as he turns to face you is enough to make you shiver. Fear, hurt, uncertainty, he looks vulnerable. Truly, really, vulnerable.

His chest rises and falls heavily under your watchful eyes and to your surprise, he reaches gingerly for your hand. His thumb gently runs over your knuckles.

“I couldn’t get the image of you covered in blood out of my head,” his voice is low as he stares at the movement of his thumb, brow pulled together in discontentment.

You frown, uneasiness roiling in your stomach. You knew Yuta had delivered the blow to take you down during the incident, but you hadn’t considered the fact that he’d likely damn-near killed you to do so.

Wrapping your fingers around his gentle hand, you bring it up to kiss his knuckles, watching the minute change of expression as he relaxes a bit more.

“Did you want to try to have a nap before we go out?”

He considers your offer before shaking his head, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

“Nah, I’m used to getting this much sleep. Thank you though, sweetheart.”

You smile kindly up at him, taking a step forward to leave a kiss on his jaw. Rolling back onto the heels of your feet, you return to the table. Satoru watches you with soft admiration, a muscle in his jaw rolling as he chews on the inside of his cheek.

“Thanks for talking to me,” you tell him, happy he’s opening up.

He nods, sighing as he lets his shoulders hang naturally and turns back to the pancakes. He dumps them onto a plate for himself, drowning them in syrup as he watches you feed and play with Taro.

“What’s the plan for the day?” You curiously turn to him as Taro tugs on a rope held between your hands.

“I told ya already,” he smiles, recovering easily from the vulnerability of the morning. “It’s a surprise.”

Groaning impishly at Satoru, you let Taro take his rope, the dog violently shaking the toy as he excitedly runs circles around the table. “You’re such a tease.”

“Always, baby.” He grins slyly.

After cleaning up the kitchen, Satoru keeps you company as you water your garden before he takes your hand and leads the way to the waiting car with Ijichi. Gojo opts to give him an exact address, firm on keeping the destination a secret until the end.

You don’t recognize the area or the little cafe you’ve arrived at when you step out of the vehicle and take Satoru’s hand. He breaks contact to push the sleeves of his white dress shirt up past his elbows before taking your hand again as he leads you across the street to the little cafe.

The cafe has gorgeous wooden oak walls and floors with white accents, plants littering each and every shelf and spare corner. It’s cozy and warm, and you smile at the thought Satoru put into the location.

As he leads the way to the counter, you suddenly realize the cafe is connected to another room. A glass pane separates both rooms with a door connecting them, and that’s when you see a pair of reflective yellow eyes curiously staring back at you.

You gasp at the sight, your eyes focused on the little ball of fur with its tail held high in the air as the little cat stares back at you.

“It’s so cute,” you breathe out, your eyes shining in wonder in a way that has Satoru grinning behind you.

“Y’like it?” He peers down at your expression, pleased with himself that he’d gotten such a reaction from you.

“This is so cute, Toru!” You beam at him, your fingers tangling in his as you reach down for his much larger hand.

As your turn to order comes, you let Satoru go first as you peruse the menu. Once you’ve both ordered, an employee leads the way into the cat room, and you feel as though you could practically cry at the sight of all the tiny furballs in the room.

“I’m gonna burst,” you state bluntly as a tiny tabby kitten prances up to your ankles, rubbing up against them with a small mew.

“Me too,” Satoru responds, his gaze fixed warmly upon you.

The sorcerer finds an empty table in the corner, the small tabby trailing the entire way after you. You set your drink on the table before you, leaving it close to the wall in hopes that it wouldn’t get knocked over by the small pair of paws holding a little gray kitty up as it smells your hands.

“Have you been here before?” You ask Satoru as you smooth your hand over the cat’s head, your attention on its gorgeous golden-orange eyes.

“I drop by for their cheese tarts sometimes,” he grins, “but I’ve never actually been on this side.”

“It’s really pretty,” you comment, glancing around at all the modern decorations, littered with scratching posts and toys.

“Mhmm,” Satoru hums in agreement, his gaze fixed on you. “Very,” he agrees cheekily.

You roll your eyes, a faint blush rising to your cheeks. “You’re shameless.”

“You love it.”

You can’t hide your smile, taking his hand from across the table as he offers it.

A big silver tabby hops onto the table before you, purring immediately as you scratch behind its ears with sparkles in your eyes. Satoru gently runs his hand down its back as it lays down before you, enjoying the attention.

“Did you ever have pets as a kid?” You ask Satoru.

He shakes his head. “Nah, the clan didn’t have pets.”

“Right, I guess that would be a lot different than how I grew up.” You can really only imagine what it would be like to grow up as a special grade sorcerer from birth, especially given his title that you grew sick of hearing.

“Did you have any?” He leans forward on his elbows, giving you his full attention.

“I had fish, my dad wouldn’t let me get anything else in case the vet bills got bad.”

He nods, taking a sip of his coffee. “Did you teach it any tricks?”

“Can’t say I did,” you giggle along to his jest. “Taro knows some, though.”

“What, ‘bark at satoru’, ‘growl at satoru’, ‘bite satoru’, and ‘chase satoru’?” He scoffs, sipping his coffee again.

You bark a laugh, thrilling Satoru as he sees your wide grin, a matching one spreading across his features. “No,” you shake your head, “he can sit, shake a paw, lay down, and play dead.”

“So where exactly do the parts about him hating me come into play?” He asks curiously with a raised brow.

“He is a guard dog, you know. I got him to warn me about you.”

Satoru makes a face, his lip curling up in mock irritation with narrowed eyes, but he knows better than to defend himself when he did deserve it.

“Guess he was pretty good at his job, then. At least he likes me now,” he shrugs, running a hand through his tousled locks.

“Thanks again for taking care of him while I was out. I don’t know what I’d do without that pup.”

He smiles genuinely. “Anything for you, pretty.”

You avert your gaze from the candy-sweet look Satoru gives you with lidded eyes as he leans forward on his elbows with a boyish grin.

Before you can hide your face from the sickeningly sweet grin he’s giving you, a gorgeous white cat with long fur and pretty blue eyes hops up between you on the table, its furry tail curling into Satoru’s face. He sputters in surprise as the long hair gets in his mouth.

Giggling, you reach out to pet the cat, but it’s completely enamored with Satoru, mewing a demand for his attention. Even as he pulls cat hair from his mouth with a dramatically exasperated expression, he reaches out to pet the cat, who curls its tail around its paws and sits down with a contented purr.

Leaning into Satoru’s touch, the cat turns to look at you and you purse your lips, looking back and forth between the snowy-haired sorcerer and his equally frosty-haired new companion.

“Oh my god,” you gasp.

“Hm?”

“It’s Satoru Junior!” You exclaim, pulling out your phone and snapping a photo of a disgruntled Satoru and his calm little twin.

“I do not look like this cat,” he insists, reaching across the table. “Delete that!”

Holding your phone away, you lean out of reach of his lanky arms, giggling at his reaction.

Letting out a huff, he scratches the cat’s little chin. “I don’t look like you,” he tells the cat in a high-pitched voice. “You’re ruining my reputation.”

“What reputation is that?” You tease.

He glances up at you slyly. “You tell me, princess.”

In truth, you had expected him to say something that you would be able to match his backtalk for, but you hadn’t expected him to leave you speechless. With lips pursed, you feel heat rising to your shoulders, a deep and obvious blush dusting your cheeks up to the tips of your ears.

“That one got ya, huh?” He grins coyly, gently nudging the cat who leans into his touch. “Maybe you’re not so bad, little guy.”

“Satoruuu…” You bashfully hide your face in your hands, butterflies erupting and fluttering in your stomach.

“So flustered,” he coos, reaching across the table and gently tangling his fingers with yours as he pulls your hands down from your face, admiring the gorgeous pink tint across your cheeks.

Sparing you from growing more flustered, a tiny kitten grabs your attention as it bats at your ankle. Both you and the sorcerer across from you eventually find yourselves sitting on the floor with a string toy and a pair of tiny kittens.

Conversation finds you easily, all the while playing with the kittens and cats who come and go as they please.

It’s easy to watch the way Satoru excitedly tells you stories from school, from when Megumi was younger, and from when he would travel more for missions. His expression is one of easy happiness, glimmering with excitement at the way you pay close attention to every detail, recalling little things he mentions.

He’s eager to learn more about you as well, though you’re more reserved in the way you tell stories. Satoru’s never been one to be quiet though, as much as he does want to listen and hear your stories, he loves to add commentary. It’s endearing, the way he listens so intently in spite of his inability to stay quiet.

As the sun traverses the sky and the soft rays of evening sun paint the cafe walls golden with cats basking in the rays of warmth, Satoru offers you his hand as he pulls you up off the floor and leads you out the door.

“I’m covered in fur,” you giggle, trying to brush some of it off your black dress to no avail.

Satoru kicks his legs out dramatically, showing off his equally fur-covered gray slacks with a grin.

Expecting Satoru to lead you back to the car, you’re surprised when he tugs you along to another shop down the street.

Really, it shouldn’t surprise you that he would want to visit someplace to get a sweet treat. Sure enough, he pulls you into a traditional ice cream parlor with a grin, ordering two cones and handing you one.

Each time you think he’ll pull you back to the car, he surprises you by bringing you somewhere else.

Ice cream still in hand, he pulls you along with him further down the street to a massive park with a pond, surrounded by beautiful greenery speckled in flowers. Bubbles float to the surface of the water as fish follow your shadow in hopes of food, birds chirping overhead in the trees. The sound of leaves and branches colliding overhead in the breeze is a comfort like no other, reminding you of your peaceful years in your cottage.

Satoru leans down to kiss your cheek. He doesn’t need to ask whether you like it, the glimmer in your eyes is all the response he needs.

Leading the way between two large cherry trees, he finds his way to a cute little bench stationed in a small clearing, overlooking the pond from the shade of the large trees overhead, and free of prying eyes. A small respite from the bustling streets of Tokyo.

Of course Satoru would find a place like this. As he pulls you onto the bench beside him, a relaxed sigh parting his lips, you find yourself admiring his features. His sharp jawline, the way his white hair falls so delicately over his striking blue eyes, the way the sunset light shines over his long lashes. Admiring him as though he’s a masterpiece, made for your eyes only.

He notices the way your deep red eyes train on him with ardor, but he’s always enjoyed the attention, especially yours, so who is he to stop you? He moves his arm to wrap around your middle, pulling you against him comfortably. As his fingers rest on your waist, you reach up to kiss his jaw.

“So Satoru,” you start, tilting your head up to look at him. “How long have you been planning this, really?”

A faint blush dusts his cheeks. “I found this place a few months ago,” he admits softly, his voice strangely tender. “I always thought you would like it.”

Though you know the reason he pushed you away for so long, it’s still strange to hear that he thought of you in moments like these. You can’t help but wonder if he’d had some semblance of feelings all along that he’d spent so long pushing down all in favor of keeping up his ability to play the role of the weapon of the higher-ups.

“Well, I don’t like it,” you start, barely able to hold back playful giggles as he shoots you a concerned look. “I love it,” you grin, watching as he works a muscle in his jaw with a disgruntled expression. His eyes still shine with adoration, giving away his true soft demeanor.

As his features soften when you smile up at him, he leans into you, nuzzling his face into your hair. “So I did well?” He asks, voice muffled in an effort to mask his genuine nerves.

“This is perfect, Toru. I’m having a great time.” Your hand finds his thigh and he smiles against your scalp, setting his larger hand over yours.

“Good,” he breathes out happily. Returning your attention to your melting ice cream, you both happily bask in the gentle heat of the setting sun over the pond, enjoying the cool treat as a contrast to the heat.

Satoru’s attention trains on a fish at the edge of the pond, bubbles rising from its movements. It dashes off suddenly, as if spooked by something. With his eyes still trained on the pond, he asks you something out of the blue.

“You haven’t been out of Japan much, right?”

You shake your head. “I didn’t have the chance before Miriko woke up and now I don’t really want to bring a dragon onto a plane.”

He nods in understanding. “Would you ever want to? Travel, I mean. Not specifically the dragon part.”

You stare at him questioningly. “Of course. I just don’t think it’s an option.”

Satoru hums thoughtfully. “If you could, where would you go?”

“I want to see the northern lights,” you tell him.

His brow raises as he tilts his head. “You’ve never seen them?”

“They’re not that common,” you shrug. “I’ve tried, but I don’t think my cottage was far enough out of town.” You kick at a pebble by your feet, watching as it tumbles down the small bank at the edge of the pond, a splash reaching your ears as it submerges. “I’ve always thought Iceland would be fun.”

Gojo takes in what you’re saying with a hum as though he wasn’t expecting that. “That sounds fun,” he agrees.

“Have you ever been?”

He shakes his head no. “I’ve been overseas for the occasional mission but I don’t get to sight-see much anyway.” He shrugs.

“Maybe someday we’ll get a vacation,” you chuckle dryly at the thought, trying to come across less hopeless than the thought really felt, but you don’t succeed.

“You wanna go on vacation with me?” He nudges your side, simpering guilefully.

You subtly roll your eyes, unable to help as the corners of your lips quirk upwards. “Don’t let it get to your head.”

“Too late,” he teases, his fingers curling against your waist as he pulls you impossibly closer to his side.

Comfortable silence settles over the both of you, ice cream finished and basking in one another’s company. Your hands are tangled in your lap, fingers subconsciously running over skin.

Your date catches you off-guard when he reaches up to tilt your chin to him, your heart soaring in your chest as your lips meet in a gentle union, moving ever-so-softly against one another. Satoru’s hand moves up from your chin to cup your face while his fingers squeeze your hand gently. You move against him in tandem, responding eagerly to every maneuver of his lips.

He’s so gentle, savoring the way your tongue swipes against his bottom lip as you deepen the kiss. His fingers flex against your hot cheek, humming into your parted lips in contentment. Your hand finds purchase on his chest, feeling the way his heart thrums fast and hard against his chest.

“So sweet,” he hums between kisses. He could be talking about your taste or your demeanor, you’d truly never know, silencing his compliment with your lips. His tongue dances with yours, his sweet taste intoxicating.

When he slowly pulls back, white lashes fluttering open, you can’t help the way a smile spreads over your features, one that’s mirrored on your handsome date’s face. His thumb brushes your cheek bone tenderly, pressing a kiss to your reddened nose.

He pulls back to look out over the lake at the darkening light as the sun dips under the horizon.

“Why don’t we grab some dinner and head home?”

“Nothing fancy?” You insist, hoping he’ll settle for takeout as the last thing you need is a fancy dinner while covered in cat hair.

“Whatever your heart desires, gorgeous.”

Your blush deepens, if that’s at all possible, as Satoru pulls you to your feet. His hand finds your waist as though he can’t bear to not be in constant contact with you. He walks with a lilt to his step, enjoying the casual pace as he tells you about the curse he fought here a few months back.

When you return to the car, Ijichi opens the door for you both to pile in. Satoru doesn’t let you go, even as you move to put on your seatbelt, his hand remains firmly around your waist, practically gluing you to his side.

As Ijichi starts the car, Gojo points out each and every little bakery and place he’s been, where he’s fought curses, places he thinks you might enjoy. You hadn’t had the opportunity to visit so much of Tokyo that the idea of visiting it with Satoru makes you strangely giddy and you find yourself gripping his thigh tightly as he suggests taking you out next weekend to check out a little botany store he spotted last week.

Of course, you’d never expected him to take so much time to consider the things you might like, let alone to want to share his favorite little bakeries and spots with you. Not when barely a month ago you could barely stand to be in the same room.

How the times had changed.

You stop and grab sushi as takeout, giggling as you attempt to eat it in the car and Satoru ends up adding soya sauce to the car hair that litters his pants. His nose wrinkles in embarrassment as you can’t help but giggle at him, but it’s not like it stops either of you from continuing to eat in the car.

As you pull into the entrance of the school grounds, Ijichi opens the door for you both. Your fingers instinctively tangle with Gojo’s as he begins to lead the way to the cabin, casting a glance at the group of students training at the end of the field.

He pauses, shoving his free hand in his pocket as you both watch them all chatting, able to hear them laughing and joking together. You squeeze his hand gently, smiling proudly at the sight.

“I’m glad they still get to be kids sometimes,” you say softly, giggling as Panda pulls Maki and Yuta together into, quite literally, a bear hug, much to their dismay based on their flailing limbs.

“Makes it all worth it,” the sorcerer beside you agrees, smiling to himself before he turns back to the cabin to lead the way. Unlocking the door, he leads you inside, patting Taro on the head as he dumps his keys on the table.

You fall into habit, letting Taro out and feeding him before returning to Satoru’s side as he kicks off his shoes and unbuttons the top of his shirt, rolling his shoulders. You shrug your cardigan off, hanging it off the back of one of the kitchen chairs and leaving you in just the small black dress.

Satoru hums as he watches your movements, a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips.

“I think I’m a fan of this dress,” he mumbles, his hands finding your hips as he pulls you against him, leaning back against the kitchen table.

He admires the way your cheeks redden, his eyes gaining a darkness you’re growing to recognize that sends a wave of heat through your entire body as you realize how tightly he’s holding you against his toned abs.

You feel the way his chest rises and falls in quick succession against the plush of your breasts as the pads of his fingers press into your hips. He takes you in a moment longer to admire you before leaning down to kiss you.

This isn’t like every other time he’s kissed you. It’s filled with passion, but his lips move against yours fast, needy, damn near desperate. Like he’s been waiting for this moment for a lifetime.

He pulls your bottom lip between his teeth, satisfied when you gasp, your fingers tightly gripping the fabric of his shirt against his chest. As your tongues dance against one another, you feel the way his body heats up, the fabric of his slacks pulling taut as he grows hard.

His grip on you intensifies as he deepens the kiss, his pace picking up.

Inadvertently, you press yourself more needily against him as heat pools and burns in your core, setting ablaze want, need. He groans into your lips, a sound swallowed between kisses as you grind against his length, looking for friction to ease the pooling tension in your abdomen as you press your thighs together.

“Fuck,” he groans into your lips, “you’re gorgeous, you know that?” His voice is low in a way that’s just so sexy and dangerous.

Your cheeks burn just as hot as the fire between your thighs at his compliment, which you hide behind an intense kiss. Your fingers slide up his undercut to tangle in his hair, pulling a moan from his lips.

He deftly slides his hands down your hips to the plump of your ass. “Jump,” he commands in a husky voice. Your fingers curl at the sound of his lust-filled voice as you obey, wrapping both legs around his toned waist. He hums in satisfaction, gripping the plush of your ass as he effortlessly brings you up the stairs to his bedroom.

It’s distinctly more lived-in than the rest of the cabin had looked upon moving in and clothing sits in piles off to the side, the blankets thrown up to the pillows in a half-assed effort to make the bed. It won’t matter one way or the other when he’s done with you.

He sets you down gently on the bed before crawling over you, the mattress dipping under his weight. Your hands find purchase around his neck again, tangling in his hair.

“You have no idea,” he whispers with lidded eyes, leaning down to return to the kiss, “how crazy you’ve been driving me all day in this little thing.” He tugs at the hem of your dress, his fingers grazing the sensitive skin of your thighs. Your gasp is swallowed by his hungry lips as his hands work to spread your thighs for him.

Positioning himself between your legs, he pulls back from your lips to press feverous kisses down your jaw, nipping at the sensitive skin of your neck. With each movement he makes, each brush of skin and urgent kiss, he’s mapping your body like it’s his sole mission in life. He wants to memorize each and every little thing that makes you tic, he wants to bring you to your knees in pleasure.

Satoru wants to tear you apart and make you his. He wants to be completely and wholly yours.

“Satoru-” you moan his name so angelically he pauses his movements, pupils blown as he admires you. He lets out a breath as he dips back down to your neck, nipping and sucking as you tug at his hair.

“Shit, I love the way you moan my name, baby.” His lips brush your neck as he continues his movements, growing more and more impatient with his own teasing as he hooks his thumbs under the hem of your dress and hurriedly pulls it up your body.

You shuffle to let him take it off, being carelessly tossed aside, but you couldn’t care less. The only thing that matters is him. The woodsy smell of his cologne, the way his chest rises and falls eagerly, the dark look glinting in his lust-filled eyes.

It’s all so much, yet it’s not enough as slick pools between your thighs. A wanton whine parts your lips as you try to clench your thighs in a desperate action for the friction that Satoru teases.

The sorcerer lowly chuckles, a strong hand finding its grip on your thigh as he pushes it down, squeezing your other thigh as his gaze travels the length of your figure.

“Fucking perfect,” he groans, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth. Your attention is drawn to his cock, jumping in his slacks in a desperate plea to be let loose. Satoru grins, palming his erection as you lick your swollen lips at the sight, but his focus is you. Your pleasure.

Sprawling your thighs before him, he positions his face between your legs, running the flat of his tongue over your clothed core, completely soaked for him.

“Fuck, Toru!” You cry, arching your back in an effort to elicit more contact. “Please baby, need more,” your whine is met with a deep chuckle.

“Need more what, sweetheart? Use your words.” You lift your head, crimson eyes filled with need that sets Satoru ablaze.

Your head spins with desire as you don’t hesitate to answer him, the words finding you easily. “I want you, Satoru.”

Your admission is like fuel to him, his long finger hooks the fabric of your black lace panties, pulling them aside as his hot breath fans your dripping core.

“You this soaked all for me, baby?” His tone drips with cockiness that you can’t bring yourself to handle in this moment, running a hand through his hair as you push his head down to your puffy lips in an effort to shut him up.

His chuckle vibrates against your pussy and you arch your back into the friction, gasping when his tongue licks up your slit in one slow, long movement. “Haah, shit Toru,” you moan and gasp all at once, your mouth hanging open at the delicious feeling of his tongue swirling a circle around your clit.

He hums into your pussy, curling his fingers into your thighs almost bruisingly as he savors your taste. You tug on his hair, fingers urging for more, more, as your toes curl at either side of his head. 

Satoru delights in the way you squirm and moan his name from beneath him, his movements quickening as his nose flicks your sensitive bud, shortly followed by his tongue as he sucks on the bundle of nerves, a sharp cry of his name hanging in the air.

As one hand tugs at his hair, your other hand grips at the sheets beneath you. Satoru deftly runs a long finger along your slit, wetting the digit with your juices before sliding it in, savoring the way you stretch around him.

“So tight, darlin’,” he mumbles between broad strokes of his tongue.

“S-Satoru, shit,” your thighs shake beneath his grip as he begins to pump his finger in and out, wasting no time as he slides a second finger in easily. Your loud moans drive him crazy and he reaches down to free his rock-hard erection from his slacks, unable to resist the urge to stroke himself at the sight of you splayed so beautifully over his bed, damn near falling apart on his fingers.

If you look this pretty all fucked-out over his fingers, he can’t wait to see how goddamn gorgeous you look with his cock splitting you apart, your juices drenching him. His mouth waters at the thought of it.

Deviously slowing his movements, you feel the way his lips quirk up into a smile against your pussy at the involuntary buck of your hips, eager for his movements to continue. He curls his long fingers against your gummy walls, his tongue parting from your swollen bundle of nerves as he looks up at the way your head falls back into the mattress, watching your expression as he finds your g-spot.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, followed by a whimper as your arousal coats his fingers, sliding easily down to his wrist. His hungry blue eyes continue to watch your expression as his fingers curl repeatedly into your cunt so perfectly.

“Good girl,” he purrs in a sweet tone, groaning as you pull his hair. With two digits still buried deep in your cunt, pulling out moans and whimpers from your sweet lips, Satoru reaches down to palm his hard cock, breathing coming in ragged pants.

He doesn’t relent the moment he finds your g-spot, your warm walls molding so delectably to his fingers as your sloppy cunt squelches with each thrust, each curl of his long digits. He repeats the movements over and over until it’s all so much that you’re scrambling against him as you fist the sheets and his hair so roughly that he’s letting out a breathy chuckle between languid strokes of his tongue, but not once does the pace of his fingers ever relent.

As your walls pulse around his digits and your moans turn to incoherent babbles of being close, Satoru sucks your clit into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it with such precision it has your head spinning. His movements pick up the pace as your thighs shake and begin to close around his head but he doesn’t let up his pace.

Releasing his throbbing cock, he reaches up to hold your hips in place as you jerk against his tongue, the knot in your stomach growing in intensity as your orgasm approaches fast.

“Cum f’r me, baby. Make a mess ‘n my fingers,” he whispers sweetly and oh the things his words do to you. You whimper and squirm as the tightness at the base of your stomach unwinds and the intensity releases.

“S-Satoru-!” You cry out his name like a mantra as you practically see stars from the intensity of your orgasm. He slows his movements, drawing out every last second of your orgasm and drinking in each and every drop of your slick as it drips and pools from your leaky hole.

As you pant above him on the bed, he slowly pulls his fingers from your core. You whine from the stimulation as he leans his cheek sweetly against your thigh with a pussy-drunk grin, your juices covering his chin. “You like that, pretty girl?”

You give him a broken nod as he allows you a moment to come down from your high, licking his fingers and humming in approval at your taste before standing up off the edge of the bed and letting his slacks and boxers drop. He pulls his shirt over his head, broad shoulders and rippling muscles a sight that has your pupils growing in size as your mouth waters at the sight of him.

Satoru is a beautiful human being, sweat beginning to slick his snowy white locks to his forehead and muscles covered in a faint sheen from his exertions. So handsome, and so hopelessly obsessed with you, there’s no use in trying to resist the hopeless attraction you feel for him.

The mattress dips as he crawls back over you, muscular arms at either side of your head as he hovers over you. The taste of your arousal is still fresh on his tongue, sending waves of lust through your body once again.

He ruts his length against your still-clothed cunt, eliciting a whimper at the friction against your clit. Using one hand to hold himself over you, he reaches down to unclasp your bra, freeing your breasts from their confinement as he parts from your lips to take your nipple between his teeth, tongue swirling around the hardened skin.

Your nails dig into his bare shoulders and he groans against your skin, the vibration making you gasp in delight before he moves his attention to your left nipple, nipping at the skin and causing you to jump at the sudden feeling. He smirks up at you with darkened eyes when he parts from your breasts, reaching down to stroke his length.

Your eyes follow his movements, your lips parted as your gaze comes to rest on his cock. It’s long, the tip red and angry with lust and need as precum beads at the top. Satoru’s hand deftly thumbs the precum, watching as your pupils blow out further from watching his actions.

“See something you like, sweetheart?” He smirks arrogantly. Even during sex, he’s still Satoru.

“You’re such a dick,” you groan breathlessly, moving a hand from his shoulder to drape it over your face. Satoru eagerly removes your hand from your face, guiding you down to his cock.

His mouth hangs open, head falling back as he sits over your hips, moaning as you stroke him painfully slowly. You move your hand down to the base of his cock, watching his reaction with fervour as his chest rises and falls unevenly when your fingers tighten and his hips jerk as you move back up, a breathy moan falling from his lips.

God he looks like heaven kneeling over you with a blissed out expression.

“Toruuuu?”

The teasing lilt to your voice pulls Satoru’s attention down to your face, lidded eyes aglow with intrigue.

When you place your open palm on his chest, he pliantly allows you to flip yourself on top of him. While he does prefer to take charge and have you whimpering at his fingertips, the dark look in your eyes and the way his cock twitches is something he wants to explore as you slide down the bed.

Your eyes lock with Satoru’s eager ones as his tongue swipes out over his lower lip.

His cock leaks for you, twitching as you get closer.

“Needy, Toru?”

“I thought I talked too much,” he groans, fingers tangling in your hair as he urges you down. You lick one long stripe up his cock and his head falls back into the pillow, swallowing hard as pleasure snaps up his spine like lightning.

You loll your tongue out from your mouth, the taste of his precum salty, yet surprisingly sweet on your tongue as his hard cock twitches when he bottoms out in the back of your throat as you suppress a gag.

“Shit, baby y’look so pretty with my cock in your mouth,” he pants as he locks eyes with you again, mouth watering at the sight of you so pretty with your mouth filled.

You bob your head, setting a slow pace as his hips buck beneath you. He has to resist the urge to thrust his cock into the back of your throat with each time you swirl your tongue around the sensitive tip of his cock.

“Fuck, I-” He stammers over his words, fingers tangling in your hair and tugging as gently as he’s able to be, trying to let you keep control. “Please, don’t stop,” he moans, bucking his hips and guiding your head to pick up the pace as he encourages your movements, which grow more desperate as you press your thighs together in an effort to relieve the aching pressure in your stomach.

With each buck of his hips, Satoru’s movements grow more erratic as you chase his orgasm with your tongue until his breathing picks up and he suddenly pulls you off of his cock, taking control again as he flips himself onto you, grinning at your squeal of surprise.

He hops off the bed and you lick your lips as you watch him ardently open a drawer with little patience as he pulls a condom out and rolls it down his long member.

“Need t’be inside you,” he whispers in your ear as he crawls on top of you, pushing your legs apart as he handles you strangely delicately given the position he easily moves you into, throwing your legs over his shoulders as he lines himself up at your entrance.

His cock bobs and twitches with anticipation as slick from your leaking hole coats him from head to base. With the tip of his length pressed against your folds and your thighs tensing at either side of his broad shoulders, he looks to you, patient as he awaits your signal.

Your hips buck involuntarily as his pretty cock tip brushes your clit. You nod at Satoru breathlessly.

“Use your words, darlin’,” he urges like before, placing a sweet kiss on your nipple that pulls a whimper from you.

“Satoru, fuck me already,” you moan, mouth hanging open as he wastes no time pushing the tip of his cock into your greedy hole. You gasp at the delicious stretch, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders as you pull him down for a hungry kiss, moaning into his mouth.

“Shit you’re tight,” Satoru groans, jerking within you as he waits for you to adjust to his large size.

Your fingers curl against the blades of his shoulders, nails leaving angry red marks as the stretch of mild pain turns to pure pleasure and you arch your back for him. Slowly, Satoru feeds you his length inch by inch until he bottoms out, his balls hitting the plush of your ass with a dirty smack.

Satoru places one more sweet kiss on your candied, saliva-covered lips before setting a devilishly fast pace, feeling your toes curl in delight on his back. Your cunt clenches around him with each deep thrust as he fucks you so passionately, yet so hungrily, his deep thrusts damn near ruining you.

Your nails run hard down the length of his back and he hisses through his teeth, kissing your thigh from where it’s folded over his shoulder. “Easy, baby.”

“Nnngh, Toru, hah-”

He kisses your other thigh, pulling out to adjust your position. You whine at the lack of contact as he sets your thighs down on the bed, positioning himself in missionary and pushing back in with speed that makes your stomach curl and twist in pleasure.

“Shit, S-Satoru-”

“Hah, love the way you moan my name so pretty.” His lips crash against yours, muffling your pleasured cry when his cock brushes your cervix, your vision blurring as he splits you open.

Your head spins as your abdomen knots and pressure builds steadily, your orgasm steadily approaching.

Satoru nips and sucks at the skin of your neck, his movements growing more and more sloppy as your walls pulse and clench around him and he knows you’re about to fall apart on his cock. He reaches down to rub little cirles onto your clit, mumbling against the skin of your neck, “c’mon baby, give ‘t t’me.” His voice is husky in your ear, shaking in time with your thighs that threaten to close around him.

Satoru erratically throws his weight against your ass, his balls tightening with each thrust as any sense of self-control falls from Satoru’s grasp and he grows mean, bullying his twitching cock into your tight little hole.

“S-Sa’toru-” you murmur, your mouth hanging open so hazily. He juts his hips, thrusting into you with such zeal that your eyes clench shut and you can’t help the way your nails rake his back as he hits your g-spot so headily that you’re squirming, babbles and moans falling from your mouth in pleasure.

“Stop runnin’ from me, baby.” Satoru groans, his hands locking to your waist as he holds you down. You see stars with each thrust until you’re crying out hoarsely as the knot in your stomach suddenly releases and your climax rips through you.

Your thighs shake as Satoru doesn’t relent, his movements growing erratic as he fucks you through your orgasm, chasing his own climax. Your walls clench so tightly around him, the slick leaking from your overstimulated cunt dripping down his member until he’s falling apart over you.

“Sh-Shit pretty- ngh!” Satoru’s head falls forward as he holds himself up, his movements slowed to a halt as his cock jumps and twitches in your warm walls that hold him so tightly, his cum spurting into the condom. His breath comes in ragged pants, sweat dripping from the slicked strands of white hair that tickle your chest.

You’re whining as he pulls out slowly, the overstimulation so much, too much until he’s collapsing beside you. His body is sticky with perspiration as he pulls you onto his heaving chest, peppering the most saccharine sweet kisses along your cheek until he can feel you smiling.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, you know that?”

If it’s possible for your cheeks to heat up anymore, they do, reddening along the tips of your ears as you tilt your head to see him.

He’s glowing, a blissful smile spread over his lips as he admires you, such a sweet little thing in his arms.

“You’re kinda sappy, you know that?” You tease as you catch your breath, shifting to rest your chin on his rugged chest. Satoru’s arm fastens over your back.

“Maybe,” he shrugs, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to your lips, “but the only person I’m trying to impress looks pretty happy with me right now.” He grins smugly, but those glossy big blue eyes shine with reverence.

You kiss his collar bone in response, laying your head down and basking in the euphoric silence.

No matter how long you spend with Satoru, each first with him still feels funny somehow. You could barely stand to be in the same room for so long and now you can barely stand to be apart.

You can feel the weariness in his bones as he kisses the crown of your head and slides out from under you. He was tired before, but the dark circles beneath his eyes give away just how exhausted he is now. Still, he smiles as he walks to the ensuite to grab a towel and toss out the condom.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” He hums, taking his time as he delicately runs the towel over your skin, cleaning your arousal from your legs as he so charmingly kisses your thighs.

You return his smile and thank him, opening your arms for him to cuddle into. He grins at the sight of you beckoning him to you and slides the blankets out from under you before playfully lunging under them as you hug him to your warm body.

He lets out a breath as he lays on his back, pulling your naked body snugly against him. You fit against the curves of his built form so perfectly, like puzzle pieces.

Satoru’s breathing begins to row rhythmic very quickly and you nuzzle into his chest, happy that he’s finally getting some rest and that it seems to come to him so easily in your arms. That is, until he surprises you when he blurts something out.

“Be my girlfriend.”

You lift your head off his chest to look at him, his pleading tone taking you by surprise. He cracks his eyes open, mirth swirling in the depths of his gaze, along with a glimmer of hopefulness.

He knows you could break him with one word, and that fear reflects in his tight-lipped expression.

He can see your fear, too, you’re sure of it. You can’t ignore the constant nag in the back of your head reminding you that everyone you’ve ever loved you’ve lost. The sting of wounds not yet healed, too recent to ignore.

Wounds that make you doubt if you’re doing the right thing. If by sleeping with Satoru you’re dooming him to that same fate. If by caring for Satoru, you’re dooming him to a fate even worse, if that’s at all possible.

“We’ve only been on one date-” you cut yourself off, it’s a meager excuse, a poor reflection of your fear.

“I’ll keep you safe,” he reassures you, seeing through the cracks of your hesitation. “I know you’ll keep me safe too.”

Your mouth opens and closes once, twice, doubt flickering in your features not because you don’t want this, but because it’s hard to ignore the past.

“Besides, we did everything else out of order anyway,” his voice carries a teasing lilt now as he answers your hesitant statement at surface-level. “We lived together before we were even friends, sex before we were dating, we’re all over the place.” He grins, poking the tip of your nose and you’re unable to help a giggle from passing through your lips at his nonchalance.

“I guess we did, didn’t we?” You let out a breath, resting your chin back on Satoru’s chest as you return his gleeful expression.

You can’t keep holding yourself back out of fear. You need to trust those around you. That much you know.

With a deep breath, you readjust yourself, crimson eyes ripe with adoration as you let go of your inhibitions.

“I’d love to be your girlfriend, Toru.”

series masterlist || main masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter

a/n || it's finally here!! was literally kickin my feet writing the cute lil date ♡ this has been swimming in my head for so long it's been so much fun to write but it does take me forever to write smut, it's definitely my least confident area which is admittedly why this chapter took so long but! i'm happy with how it turned out c: i also have a couple of drabbles that came out this past week if you want to check those out, and a modern!sukuna oneshot coming soon that i'm super happy with so keep an eye out for that as well!

[sweetbluus]

rumor has it

synopsis: rumor has it that yu jimin, straight A student and the star captain of the university's volleyball team, has only gotten to where she is through cheating and bribery. now, she's your partner for a final paper.

pairing: uni student jimin x uni student fem!reader

warnings: cursing

word count: 9.5k

notes: this is my first time uploading a piece on any media platform. feedback and comments are much appreciated!

the buzz of the students in the lecture hall dies down immediately as dr. kim, your english professor, walks in. you find your seat beside your best friend aeri and uncap your pen, ready to take notes. aeri, however, has different plans and rests her head on her arms, ready to catch up on sleep for the next hour. it isn't her fault that the university thought an 8 am english class was a great idea.

"good morning, class. let’s begin today’s lecture," dr. kim's voice echoes. with those words, you begin jotting down the professor's key points, making sure your handwriting is clear, knowing that the sleeping girl beside you will be asking for your notes later.

throughout the lecture, you can't resist sneaking glances at the girl two rows ahead of you. yu jimin sits there, in all her glory. you don’t know many people at this university, but it's nearly impossible not to recognize jimin.

her face adorns bulletin boards all over campus, celebrating her role as the victorious captain of the volleyball team that clinched the national championship for the university. from life-sized cutouts of her and the team placed around various corners to her frequent appearances on the university’s instagram story, it's harder to evade her presence than to acknowledge it.

although you aren't particularly interested in sports, you can't help but admit that she is extremely attractive. however, you’ve heard numerous stories about jimin's infamous reputation, primarily from the napping girl beside you. apparently, jimin is a rude and overall unpleasant person who got her high grades thanks to bribery and cheating.

an hour drifts by, and finally, dr. kim speaks the much-awaited words, "alright, class. i believe that concludes today’s session."

before you can pack your bag and make fun of your friend for drooling, dr. kim interjects, "oh, before i dismiss you, i'd like to announce that the final paper is approaching. it will be a paired effort." a glance between you and aeri implies your agreement to be partners.

"i will be assigning the pairs randomly," the professor states, pausing to allow the students to voice their groans and complaints.

"is she serious?" aeri asks you in a hushed voice. however, it wasn’t quiet enough.

"yes, miss uchinaga. i am indeed serious," you stifle a laugh as your best friend's ears turn crimson.

"as i was saying, this final paper will be done in pairs that i will randomly assign. you are all adults, and it's important to learn how to collaborate with people you don’t know. this paper will facilitate that skill." it takes all your restraint not to roll your eyes. it's way too early to be doing this.

“when i call your name, come up to my desk and pick a piece of paper from this box which has the names of everyone in this class. show me the piece of paper and i’ll announce it. if it’s your own name, you can draw again.” dr. kim looks around to make sure the class understands the instructions.

“it seems like everyone has understood so we’ll begin. miss uchinaga and miss y/l/n, why don’t you do the honors and pick out your pairs first.”

you and a much more awake aeri begin walking to the front, not missing the way jimin’s eyes quickly meet yours. maybe you just need some sleep just like aeri.

with a sigh, aeri goes first and is paired with the girl who is sitting on the right of jimin, a girl with the name ning yizhuo. she seems nice enough with the way she smiles at aeri when she hears her name.

you go up to the box and rummage through its contents. stopping at what you feel is an appropriate time, you unfold the paper and show it to your professor.

“it seems like ms. y/l/n’s partner for the final paper is yu jimin,” you make eye contact with her as the professor calls her name, and you give her a tight-lipped smile. she meets your eyes and only gives you a small nod. you and aeri go back to your seats.

as the professor continues to announce pairs, you notice a mix of expressions – excitement and disappointment – on the faces of your classmates. some seem genuinely happy with their partners, while others exchange anxious glances.

“i am giving you all 2 months to work on this paper. please do not procrastinate. this is a major paper, and your grade on it will have an immense effect on your final grade overall,” dr. kim announces before she leaves the room.

the buzz of the students in the lecture hall continues once more, with the majority of the class talking to their partners. you take a quick look at your partner, who was still sitting next to what seemed to be two of her close friends, one of which was aeri’s partner and the other was a girl named minjeong, her co-captain.

“i’m scared,” you tell your best friend. “what if she makes me do all the work?”

“hey, don’t judge a book by its cover – or i guess a person by their rumors,” aeri says, getting up from her chair. 

“you’re the one who told me those rumors in the first place!”

“i would say i was spreading valuable information, not rumors,” aeri reasons as you both begin walking to exit the front door of the lecture hall.

before you both could step out the door, you feel a tap on your shoulder. you turn around, not expecting a certain raven-haired girl to be the one behind you.

“hi, y/n. i’m jimin,” she introduces herself to you bluntly without a smile on her face, how welcoming. before replying, you nod goodbye to aeri, encouraging her to go on without you.

“nice to meet you, jimin.” it was your first time talking to this girl, but immediately you could feel the pressure of her presence. you could barely look her in the eyes.

“here’s my number,” jimin hands you her phone with her contact information bright on the screen. “i have another class after this, but i’ll text you so that we can meet and talk about the paper.”

you nod, pulling out your phone and copying the numbers from her screen onto yours.

putting her phone back into her pocket, jimin begins walking out of the room with her two friends trailing not so far behind her.

“oh, and by the way, y/n,” jimin stops in her steps and stares you down in the eyes, “i won’t make you do all the work. i don’t trust you enough with my grades.”

you stand there, mouth slightly agape and face hot from embarrassment, watching the three girls walk out of your sight.

fuck.

"y/n, it's not that bad," aeri attempts to comfort you as she took a bite of her sandwich. hours had passed since you were paired with jimin, and now you found yourself in a university common space, trying to have lunch with aeri. however, the embarrassment from your earlier encounter was dampening your appetite.

"she probably hates me now, i can feel it," you sighed dramatically, plopping your head onto the cold table.

"what you're feeling is probably hunger. eat," aeri said, digging through your bag to retrieve your packed lunch. “it’s not your fault you didn’t know she had superhuman hearing,” aeri tries to make light of the situation.

"she's going to tell all her followers that i'm an asshole, and i'm somehow going to get expelled from this university," you exclaim with an exaggerated groan.

you're well aware you're being overly dramatic, but considering the rigorous academic demands of this university and the looming assignments, papers, and tests from multiple classes, your nerves are at an all-time high.

"first of all, calm down," aeri set her sandwich aside. "second, i know i'm the one who keeps you updated with all the campus gossip since you're practically a dorm hermit. but seriously, rumors are just rumors."

you didn't understand why she had to point out your introverted, homebody habits. "you should just let go of those rumors and form your own opinion about her once you actually get to know her."

you don't reply as you open up your lunch and began taking small bites. that was one of your biggest dilemmas. if you looked up "opinionated" in the dictionary, it would feature your face as an antonym.

always going with the flow, never wanting to stand out or have a loud presence, you'd rather take what you're given than go out and seek something yourself. hell, you couldn't even form an opinion on a tiktok without first checking the comments to see what the majority of viewers thought.

before you could spiral deeper into your thoughts, your phone vibrates.

yu jimin

this is jimin.

i’m free at 3 pm today. let’s meet at the library if you’re free too.

“who’s that,” aeri asks as she notices your eyes skimming over your phone. “it’s jimin, she wants to meet at the library later today,” you answer.

y/n

hi, jimin.

i’m free. i’ll see you then.

“ugh, i don’t want to go,” you complain to aeri.

“y/n, are you hearing yourself?” your best friend gives you a deadpan look, “this paper is worth more than half of our final grade. if you fail this paper, you’re going to fail the class.”

the weight of her words sinks in, and you're reminded of the possible consequences of not taking the paper seriously. of course, you knew that you had no choice but to go and work with the infamous volleyball team captain. while you were still quite mortified from your earlier interaction with her, you didn’t want to fail out of college just yet.

only the distant hum of quiet conversations and the faint rustle of pages moving could be heard as you enter the library.

as you weave your way through the bookshelves toward the back, you finally lay eyes on the person you were looking for. jimin is focused on whatever content is displayed on her laptop. you can't help but notice her furrowed brows and the subtle movement of her lips as she reads the text in a hushed voice. the sun's rays cast a gentle glow on the contours of her face, accentuating her features.

curse this university for having naturally well-lit buildings.

you gently tap her shoulder, careful not to startle the focused girl. you wish you could say that her expression softened the moment she turned and spotted you, but if anything, her features seemed to tighten. this was going to be a fun time.

“hi,” you say quietly to jimin as you sit down in the open chair in front of her.

"let's begin," she immediately suggests while you retrieve your laptop from your bag. "i understand that we could work on this individually in separate places since we both have access to this document, but i personally prefer collaborating face-to-face with my partner, especially for a final paper." you give a nod in agreement to jimin's proposal.

for the next hour, you and jimin discuss only the paper's details, staying firmly on the subject of your final paper. she has already outlined the content the two of you will cover, assigned each of you specific sections to write, and established a schedule for completing each part.

at one point, she asks, "what do you think? you haven't said a word about anything i’ve mentioned." her eyes remain fixed on the shared document displayed on both your screens, with a majority of the content coming from jimin.

"i mean, i'm fine with whatever," you reply. in group papers, you've never been inclined to voice your opinions or contribute ideas. don’t get it wrong, you're certainly not a freeloader, but you've never assumed the role of a group leader either.

"not even a single suggestion or comment?" she finally lifts her gaze from her laptop, locking eyes with you. you instantly break the brief eye contact you shared.

"no, i’ll give you some if i come up with any. besides, we still have 2 months ahead to tackle this paper," you explain, trying to reason with her. she releases a deep sigh and shifts her focus back to her laptop.

she clearly isn't your biggest fan.

"i think that's all we should do today. we've got a solid plan in place, and we can use the upcoming days to gradually work on this paper," she informs you, sliding her laptop into her bag.

you nod, following suit and tidying up your side of the table.

"i have classes from 8 am until 3 pm back-to-back," jimin rises from her seat and pushes her chair in. "i've got volleyball practice every day of the week, starting at 4 pm, except for wednesdays and thursdays." you raise your eyebrows at the mention of her grueling schedule.

“so, we can meet at the library on wednesdays and thursdays after my last class, which is at 3 pm," she looks at you, and you get the feeling that she's not suggesting a meet-up but rather informing you that it's already arranged.

“sounds good with me, i’m free those days as well,” you inform her with the awareness that she had already assumed so.

as she turns to leave, a feeling inside you compels you to apologize for the comment you made about her to aeri in the lecture hall earlier. but before you can muster the courage to do so, she's already gone.

for the next two weeks, you and jimin meet up at the library on wednesdays and thursdays. while you still saw her during your 8 am class, she was only focused on the lecture or in conversations solely with yizhuo and minjeong. however, in the privacy of the library, your interactions with her only happen through the shared online document where your collaborative work took place.

actual conversations, if they could even be labeled as such, between the two of you were few and far between. the only topic that managed to breach the silence was the ongoing discussion about the final paper.

during lunch, you update aeri about your library sessions with jimin. between bites of food, you express your worry, "i honestly don't know how i'll survive working with her for the next two months. it's not that she's a bad partner or anything. i just feel so awkward around her, like i want to disappear into the ground every time we're in that library."

aeri raises an eyebrow and helps herself to a piece of your food. "have you ever tried having a conversation that’s not about the paper with her? maybe if you initiate something, she'll actually have a real conversation with you."

thinking about it now, you realize that you've never actually initiated a conversation with jimin throughout the weeks of meeting up. it's always been her leading the discussions about the paper while you simply go along with whatever tasks need completing.

you sigh, setting down your utensils. "she probably can't stand me."

aeri counters with an exclamation, "she doesn't even know you! besides, she's not exactly a nobody on this campus. she's likely heard worse things from others. i doubt she even remembers whatever you said, considering her only focus is volleyball and school."

"sometimes, i really hate how you're right," you grumble, starting to clean up your lunch.

aeri smirks, taking the last bite of her food. "which is pretty much all the time."

with aeri’s words in mind, you walk into the library a little bit after 3 pm to where you and jimin sat. as per usual, jimin was already there with her laptop out, typing away.

"hey," you say in a hushed tone as you sit down. "i swung by the campus cafe before heading here and picked up a little something for you." you hold out a brown paper bag across the table, containing a warm muffin.

"food isn't allowed in the library," she remarks, not even lifting her gaze from her laptop.

you inhale sharply, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment. before you can pull your arm back, she reaches for the bag.

"but still, thank you. i'll save this for later," jimin looks up and offers you a nod with a ghost of a smile on her lips. “let’s get to work.”

around 30 minutes pass by and the silence has enveloped the two of you as it usually does in your meetings.

you stop your typing, that familiar feeling in your stomach urging you to break the silence. you find yourself wondering, what's the point? like aeri mentioned, jimin has probably heard worse things, and once this paper is finished, she'll likely forget all about you. after all, you're just another face in the crowd to her.

from the corner of your eye, you catch jimin glancing your way, noticing your sudden pause and distant expression.

“y/n,” she calls out, her voice pulling you back to the present moment.

you snap your attention to her. “yes?” you shake your head in an attempt to stop being swallowed by your thoughts. “did you say something?”

she raises an eyebrow, her gaze attentive. “that was the fifth time i tried getting your attention. are you alright?” you want to believe that there’s some sort of concern behind her question rather than just an act of common human decency.

“oh, yeah. my bad. i’m just tired. didn’t get much sleep last night,” you excuse. it wasn’t the truth but it wasn’t a complete lie either.

“that’s understandable, this semester is crazy,” jimin replies to you turning her focus back to her laptop.

"you're probably having the craziest semester out of any student here on campus," you remark, surprising yourself with the sudden courage to continue the conversation.

"what makes you say that?" jimin pauses in her work to look at you.

"i mean, i may not have the best knowledge of university sports, but even i know that being a team captain isn’t necessarily an easy responsibility. much less being the captain of a team with a national championship title under its belt," you explain. "plus, you have back-to-back classes from 8 am to 3 pm every day, and i assume you’re doing well in them, given the quality of your work in our shared class alone."

she lets out a quiet laugh - that was the first time you've heard it. "are you sure you’re not just making wild assumptions?"

your palms start to get sweaty, and you feel like you’ve definitely made a mistake. "i’m sorry-"

"i’m just joking," jimin interrupts you. "it’s absolutely not an easy schedule, but if you have to do it, you find a way. yizhuo and minjeong help me out a lot too."

"what do you mean 'have' to?" you silently curse at yourself for prying into her personal life.

"this is the most i’ve heard you talk, y/n," jimin says to you.

"i could say the same to you," you reply. "but, uh, don’t answer if you don’t want to, or if it’s too pers-"

jimin interrupts you once more. "it’s okay. i don’t mind. i prefer when people actually want to get to know me rather than making crazy assumptions that aren't true at all."

a twinge of guilt washes over you. even though you're disconnected from the campus social life, jimin's reputation has managed to reach your ears. many things have been circulated about her – from her attitude to her accolades, and even details about her love life, none of which appeared positive.

"back when i was younger," jimin begins, her vulnerability taking you by surprise, "my parents pushed me incredibly hard to excel in school. naturally, like most parents, they had aspirations for my success. they enrolled me in after-school tutoring to make sure i did better than all the kids in my grade. they also encouraged me to choose an extracurricular activity so that i’m not always buried in books. that's when i chose volleyball, obviously."

you absorb each word she says, intent on not missing a single one. here was yu jimin herself, an enigma of existence - simultaneously adored and despised. and now, right before you, she opens up and shares her story. the reason for her trust in you to this extent, allowing herself to be vulnerable, confuses you, yet you don’t mind at all.

“i have an older sister. she’s a hotshot lawyer now. she did well in high school and did very well in college unsurprisingly,” jimin shares and you notice a gleam of admiration in her eyes. “our parents never compared us to one another and we’re actually really close. besides yizhuo and minjeong, she’s one of the few people i can call my best friend.” you nod as she continues telling her story.

"my parents stopped pushing me so hard in high school," jimin continues, her eyes fixed on you to see if you’re still listening. you are. "they believed that i needed to find motivation within myself and take charge of my actions so that i wouldn't become overly dependent on them."

"so, no, my origin story isn't about parental pressure or living up to my sister's achievements. i believe i have to do well because... i want to. i have this belief that i'm destined for greatness, so i'll dedicate everything i can to achieving it,” jimin’s gaze turns serious. “even if it means having to deal with people who want to spread nasty rumors about me.”

you sit there in silent awe. you realize jimin was your complete opposite. jimin embodies a sense of ambition and dedication that you rarely exhibit. while you've often approached situations with passivity, avoiding confrontation, jimin radiates an unwavering pursuit of her goals.

the aspiration for greatness was something unfamiliar to you. your goals were straightforward – passing your classes, securing a well-paying job for the future, ensuring financial stability, and enjoying the company of your friends. as long as you had that, you were more than happy.

"what about you, y/n?" jimin's question breaks the quiet focus, both your laptops now lowered.

"what do you mean?" you ask, the confusion apparent on your face.

"i just shared something quite personal and vulnerable about myself. wouldn't it be fair for you to do the same?" jimin replies casually.

pausing, you contemplate your response. "i don't think i truly know myself."

jimin arches an eyebrow at your revelation. "what i mean is, i'm not sure who i am. throughout most of my life, i've mostly gone along with aeri, letting her lead me to new places and experiences. but i haven't really discovered a genuine passion for anything."

"i realize now how sad that sounds, especially to you, considering you're the complete opposite of that description," you continue, your voice steady. "but, despite it all, i'm still leading a pretty happy life. i've come this far, haven't i?"

jimin responds to your rhetorical question, her tone measured and thoughtful. "just because our ideals differ doesn't mean i can't accept your perspective. it's called empathy, y/n. i don't need to share your beliefs to understand where you’re coming from."

in that very moment, you feel the foundation of your assumptions about jimin, based on the rumors, begin to crumble.

"life isn't a competition, and you're absolutely right. if you're content and your actions aren't causing harm, doesn't that define a good life in itself?" jimin's words resonate with you.

as the sunset's warm glow graces jimin’s face, you find yourself thinking about how this girl in front of you has it all. no wonder she’s the topic of everyone’s conversations. her beauty is undeniable, she’s intellectually sharp, athletically skilled - she personifies an array of qualities that capture attention.

"thanks, jimin. your words mean a lot," you express, hoping she can hear the sincerity in your voice. "i've been wondering about something, though."

jimin responds, her curiosity piqued. "what's on your mind?"

"why did you feel so comfortable sharing that part of your life with me? don't get me wrong, i'm more than happy to listen, but we're practically strangers, and you opened up to me so easily."

jimin's gaze shifts toward the expansive windows. "like i mentioned earlier, it's a refreshing feeling when someone genuinely wants to know about my life, rather than blindly believing all those damaging rumors. believe me, i've heard them all, and most are far from pleasant."

before you could give her a reply, the librarian approaches your table. "excuse me, ladies. the library will be closing in 10 minutes. it's a good idea to start wrapping up and make your way back to your dorms," she advises with a warm smile, then walks away.

over the weeks you’ve been meeting with jimin in the library, you gradually get to know each other better. your talks shift from just focusing on the paper to real conversations. occasionally, you even end up talking more than working.

you find out that jimin is a big fan of anime. one of her favorites is "assassination classroom," and it made her cry. you’ve watched it before too, making you sob your heart out into your pillow after finishing it.

with a slight smile pulling at the corner of her lips, jimin confesses, "i've never really had the chance to explore many hobbies outside of volleyball. but i've always used anime to unwind and relax.”

you also learn more about her sister – you can't miss how her eyes light up whenever she talks about her. you discover that she has terrible eyesight and wears contacts every day since it would be impractical to wear glasses to volleyball practice.

you begin feeling a sense of connection as she opens up to you about her interests and her life. it's a side of her you never expected to see – a vulnerable, relatable side that defies the rumors and preconceptions you once held.

in return, you find that jimin learns more about you. you share that you and aeri have been best friends since childhood. during one conversation, you share a memorable experience from your past: the time you and aeri got lost on a mountain during a family vacation hike.

"how are you both still alive?" jimin questions, her words laced with a mix of humor and genuine shock.

"to this day, we still have no idea," you reply, chuckling at the expression on her face.

she learns that you’re an avid film watcher after you start giving her detailed film recommendations when she asked you what would be a good movie to watch for a girls night in with yizhuo and minjeong.

as you walk from your dorm to your 8 am class, which you share with aeri, jimin, and her friends, you pass by a group of students. normally, you would quickly walk past them, not caring about the nonsense they'd be talking about. however, that changed when they mentioned someone you knew.

"did you guys hear that jimin is sleeping with her best friend's ex behind her back?" the person who seemed to be the ringleader of the group shared, as the other students around them snickered. "isn't she such a backstabbing bitch? i also heard that the only reason she got a perfect score on that exam that everyone else failed was that she slept with that professor."

you slow your steps, listening to the lies spewing from their mouths. over the past weeks, you've learned so much about jimin, enough to know that none of what they're saying is true. you're extremely aggravated at their words. plus, who the hell has this much energy to be so negative even before 8 in the morning?

a part of you wants to ignore it and walk into your class. that would be the easiest option. haven't you always liked your life that way - easy and devoid of confrontation?

which is why you're extremely shocked when you find yourself standing in front of the instigator, going head-to-head with them.

"excuse me? have you ever heard of personal space?" they snide, making the other students around them laugh as well.

"have you ever heard of shutting the fuck up and minding your own business?” you don't know why, but the next sensation you register is solid bone connecting with your knuckles, knocking the ringleader out.

"does anyone have anything else to say?" you say through gritted teeth, the ache in your knuckles resonating alongside the rapid thumping of your heart.

the mouths of the students around the unconscious ringleader drop. before anyone can say anything, you hear someone's voice.

"y/n!" aeri yells and grabs your arm, dragging you away from the group of students and into a private hallway near the lecture hall. next to her is her partner for the paper, yizhuo, along with minjeong and, of course, jimin herself.

"what happened?" asks one person from the group. you're unsure who.

"are you okay?" says another person - you still don't know who's talking.

"why did you do that?" questions a third voice. you're wondering the same thing. everything was blurry, and it felt like you couldn't breathe. your chest was heavy, and the burning sensation in your knuckles was bothering you beyond words.

it's so early, just 8 in the morning, and here you were, out of your mind. they help you sit down on a bench.

"you three go to class," the fourth voice tells the others. "i'll handle this."

"are you sure?" you register a figure nod at the question and then hear footsteps walking away from where you were.

"y/n, you need to take deep breaths and calm down, okay? you're safe. nothing bad is going to happen to you right now," the voice assures. their words help you see clearly again.

with a shaky voice, you ask, "jimin? what are you doing here? you're going to be late for class."

"the lowest grade i’ve made in that class for the whole semester was a 98, i'm sure i can miss one lecture," she says jokingly, and you notice she's trying to lighten the atmosphere. "i never knew you had a solid punch like that."

"i didn't either," you let out a breath of disbelief. "something just came over me, and i couldn't stop myself."

"what happened? that's probably the last thing i thought you'd do," jimin asks, holding your hands to steady them, with a much looser grip on the injured one that you used to knock that annoying student out.

a moment passes before you try to explain. "they were talking... about you," you hesitate. jimin raises an eyebrow. "that person was saying terrible things about you, and they were all lies!" your voice gets louder. "all lies, jimin."

"i might not be yizhuo or minjeong, but after getting to know you these past 2 months, i felt like i had to do something. i wanted to defend you, even though you probably didn't need it," you ramble, not stopping. jimin listens carefully.

"i couldn't just walk away. i usually would, but... i couldn’t this time. they were saying horrible lies. it was so wrong," you exhale deeply, realizing you were holding your breath. "i hated hearing that about my friend."

before you can apologize for assuming your closeness, jimin's lips curl into a smile. "thanks, y/n. i really appreciate you standing up for me. i really do."

she looks you in the eyes, and you can feel the gratitude radiating from her. "i've grown thick skin to the rumors, and they don't bother me as much as they used to when i first started hearing about them, so you don't need to worry about me."

"still, i'm very grateful to know that i have a friend like you who would defend me to that extent. but next time, just ignore them. i wouldn't want you getting expelled from the university just because of those lifeless losers," she smiles at you, and you feel a tug on your heart.

you nod, not sure what to say. "my hand hurts so bad," you manage a laugh despite the pain.

"let's get you an ice pack from the clinic," jimin helps you up, going with you. she holds your hand all the way until the clinic staff hands you an ice pack, but you're too focused on your hurting hand to notice.

that day, jimin learns that while you label yourself as non-confrontational and passive, you’re empathetic, loyal, and kind.

you meet up with aeri in the cafeteria for lunch. she glances at your bruised hand and the icepack you hold in the other hand.

“hey, y/n, is your dad a boxer? because you’re a total knockout!” aeri laughs at her own joke.

“you’re not getting any of my lunch today,” you say with feigned annoyance.

“no! i’m sorry!”

the realization comes at you out of nowhere while you're in the library with jimin, finalizing the remaining parts of the paper. as you steal a glance over the edge of your laptop, you observe jimin with furrowed brows, her tongue peeking out in concentration, and her glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. she tells you its because she couldn’t find her contacts this morning.

it’s raining outside with dark and gloomy skies, casting a dim ambiance over the library. despite it all, jimin shines in your eyes. it’s been like this ever since the incident. you’re extremely thankful that no person of authority caught wind of the situation. you're even more appreciative that despite the confrontation that led to you knocking out a fellow student, you weren’t expelled.

jimin has always possessed a beauty that captivates you. but now, you couldn’t see anyone else but her. whenever you're with her, your heart races, your hands sweat, and your stomach twists. you're not sure why. it's an uncomfortable feeling, yet you don't hate it. instead, you welcome it. you swear you can feel her eyes on you at times. or maybe it’s just sleep deprivation.

it’s when she calls your name, "y/n," you lift your gaze, meeting her eyes. they shine brightly despite the darkness in the building, her hair framing her face exquisitely. "i really liked your latest addition to our paper. i think it really captures what dr. kim is looking for," she says, a smile gracing her lips. in that moment, that’s when it hits you.

she really liked your work and you really liked jimin.

“aeri, i don’t know what to do," you muffle into your pillow. the two of you are currently in your dorm, a space free of roommates thanks to your parents' decision to splurge a little.

"just tell her you like her," aeri offers a solution to your current dilemma, as if it's the simplest thing in the world.

"that's insane. i could never do that!" you shift onto your back, still laying in bed, and glance at aeri, who's absorbed in her phone and helping herself to snacks from your fridge.

"that's not insane. you want to know what's insane? walking up to a stranger and knocking them out before 8 in the morning. that's insane," aeri retorts.

you toss a pillow at her, not truly irritated because her point was pretty valid.

"y/n, just be honest with her. if she feels the same, great! if not, it's not the end of everything," aeri speaks with sincerity, finally raising her gaze. deep down, you acknowledge that aeri's advice is good, great even. it's also the most sensible approach.

you don’t listen to it at all.

with less than a week left before the final paper's due date, you have two more library meetings with jimin and see her in your english class every tuesday and thursday. despite these many chances to talk to her, you try to completely avoid her.

you fail in doing so. although you avoid her eyes during the 8 am class, rushing out with aeri to prevent any conversations, the final paper still needs to be finished.

this meeting feels reminiscent of the initial paper discussions, where conversations centered solely on the final paper. you avoid looking at her, which is out of the ordinary since you spent most of these meetings simply looking at her.

"are you okay?" jimin's face shows concern, her question directed at you.

"yeah, just feeling tired," you respond with the same excuse. it’s become a reflex at this point.

“alright,” jimin replies to what you assume was the end of the conversation. “so, can you tell me why you’re avoiding me?” damn.

“what do you mean?” you try and play it dumb, but even you couldn’t believe yourself.

"i'm not stupid, y/n. why are you so distant all of a sudden? i thought we'd moved past that after all this time," jimin studies you, her expression unyielding.

you quickly attempt to come up with a lie. "i'm sorry, jimin. i've just been swamped with finals from other classes, and my grades are really low. i need to do well on them to avoid failing," you deliver the excuse, hoping it sounds convincing enough.

fortunately, jimin seems to believe it, her expression easing. "i’m sorry for assuming it had something to do with me. i'm used to being at the center of problems most of the time,” there’s a hint of playfulness in her tone, an attempt to lighten the atmosphere.

guilt engulfs you as you face her. you're strongly tempted to just tell her the truth.

"no need to apologize, jimin. it's not your fault at all. it's mine for procrastinating on my other assignments," you offer a smile.

that night, you struggle to fall asleep as you overthink the potential outcomes of confessing - or not confessing - your feelings for jimin. the most extreme scenario that haunts your mind is her hating you and refusing to speak to you ever again. you don’t sleep at all that night.

you're standing in line at the campus cafe, desperately in need of a caffeine boost before your 8 am class. your phone displays aeri's message specifying the coffee she wants. you try to blink away the sleepiness with little success.

"y/n?" a tap on your shoulder startles you, and you turn to find yizhuo and minjeong behind you in line.

momentarily taken aback, you don't respond immediately, processing which one of them tapped you.

"you look like you got run over by a truck. are you okay?" yizhuo's concern is evident.

"yiz, you can't just say that! i'm sorry, she doesn't mean it negatively, i promise," minjeong interjects, playfully slapping yizhuo's shoulder.

despite your fatigue, a soft chuckle escapes you at their antics. "it's alright, i understand. i pulled an all-nighter last night studying for an upcoming exam." the lies come more easily now.

"oh, yeah. jimin's told us that you've been working hard lately," yizhuo shares, prompting you to raise an eyebrow. jimin talks about you?

"jimin always talks about you! we had a movie night last weekend, and she made us watch a film because she said you recommended it," minjeong adds, causing a blush to rise to your cheeks.

"how did you guys like it?" you ask, still surprised that jimin talks about you.

"we loved it. you have really good taste!" yizhuo's enthusiasm is unexpected, especially before 8 am.

"you and aeri should join us one of these nights. jimin would love to have you over. maybe after finals or after our game on friday? we can order pizza and snacks for dinner," minjeong suggests.

“plus, it can be be a little celebration for submitting dr. kim’s final paper and surviving her class,” yizhuo adds.

minjeong's invitation sounds far more appealing than your usual friday night, which typically involves binge-watching anime or kdramas in your dorm, sometimes with aeri if she doesn't have a party to attend. "sounds great, just text me the details."

finally at the cashier, you place orders for both your coffee and aeri's coffee. after a short wait, you receive your drinks and wait for yizhuo and minjeong. together, you enter your 8 am english class and send a small smile toward jimin before taking your seat next to aeri at the back.

today marks your final meeting with jimin in the library for this paper. the paper is fully completed, and the only task left is proofreading the sections.

"jimin, i have a question," you begin.

"about the paper?" she looks up from her laptop, meeting your gaze. you still can’t decide if her love for eye contact is a blessing or a curse.

"no, not about the paper. i just want some advice."

"oh?"

"it's nothing too heavy, i promise." you briefly glance down at your laptop's keyboard before returning your attention to her. "have you ever felt scared?"

"many times, yes," she replies. "but i thought you said this wasn't going to get heavy?" jimin's tone carries a playful note.

"it won't! i was just curious… how do you get over fear?" you ask earnestly.

"well, if i’m scared and it's a matter of my own safety, i avoid it. i have too much to live for," jimin senses the seriousness in your tone and tries to lighten the mood. "but if the fear stems from the possibility of failing or not achieving something, i tend to just disregard it and overcome it."

"if i let fear dictate my actions every time, i wouldn't be here today. i probably wouldn't have even picked up a volleyball. i might've dropped out the moment people started saying hurtful things about me," jimin muses, delving deep into thought.

"yes, certain things can be scary, but it's scarier to miss out on opportunities because fear is holding you back," jimin concludes her response.

a moment of silence passes. "you could give a ted talk with answers like that," you quip.

she playfully swats your hand. "finish proofreading your sections. we're almost done with this paper."

two hours pass, and you lean back in your chair. "i close my eyes, and all i see are punctuation marks," you groan.

"well, here's some good news. we can email this to dr. kim tomorrow during her office hours and officially put our final paper for this class behind us," jimin's enthusiasm is evident.

"so, no more library meetings, huh?" you sit up straight.

"no, but we'll still be seeing each other often. are you coming to movie night tomorrow?" jimin questions, tidying up her side of the table.

"i am," you reply, closing your laptop.

"don't tell me you plan on treating me like a stranger after we submit this paper," jimin jokes, standing up and collecting her bag.

"i would never," you respond.

she chuckles at your remark before reaching into her bag. "are you hungry?"

you walk alongside jimin. "a bit. i'm heading to aeri's dorm for dinner. she cooked japanese food for us."

"i'd think you two were roommates," jimin tells you as she pulls a brown paper bag from her backpack.

"well, considering how often she's at my place, i can see why. but no, we're not. she lives right across the hall," you explain.

"here," she hands you the paper bag. "take this. the girls and i went to an off-campus restaurant for lunch earlier, and i thought of getting you something as a small thank you."

"thank you? for what?" you inquire while accepting the bag.

"for being an amazing partner on this paper, of course. i've got to go. yiz and i have plans. i'll text you tomorrow about when to submit the paper," she informs you.

assuming she's about to walk in the opposite direction, jimin surprises you by enveloping you in a warm hug. naturally, you reciprocate.

"i'll see you tomorrow!" jimin calls out, walking out of your sight.

at aeri’s dorm, you devour the food that she’s prepared for you. “this is so good. have i ever told you that i’m so glad you’re my best friend?” you tell her through bites of food.

“only when i cook for you. now, close your mouth and chew properly. i don’t know how to do the heimlich maneuver.” aeri looks at the brown paper bag by your feet and points to it. “what’s that?”

“i think it’s a dessert or something that jimin got me.” you notice the look on aeri’s face. “don’t even start. it was just a little thank you for helping on that final paper.”

“i didn’t say anything. i might need to get yiz a little something too, considering what a great partner she's been," she teases

“ugh, whatever.” you finish your meal and share the slice of cake jimin got you with aeri.

later that night, as you lie in bed, jimin's words echo in your mind.

fear holds you back. fear holds you back. fear holds you back.

you open your eyes to the grating sound of your alarm the next morning and see a notification from jimin.

yu jimin

hey, good morning

just a reminder to email your copy of the paper to dr. kim at 8 am!

have a great day ahead :)

y/n

good morning

will do

have a great day as well

before you leave your dorm, you open your laptop and schedule send your copy of the final paper to dr. kim for 8 am. 

making your way to class, you spot a poster on a campus bulletin board.

"i think fearless is having fears but jumping anyway." huh? your confusion lessens as you realize it's an ad for the swiftie club on campus. you can't help but question why they'd position their ad right next to jimin's volleyball photo.

before entering the lecture hall for your biology class, another banner catches your eye.

"do not be afraid." what's with all these posters? you realize you hadn't finished reading it. "do not be afraid… to join us in the bible study club!" why do all these clubs insist on placing their endorsements next to the volleyball team's photos?

you could barely focus during the biology lecture, only hearing fragments of the professor's words. that is, until the professor singles you out, "miss y/n, why are you afraid?"

"excuse me, professor?" to say you're surprised would be an understatement.

"i asked you a question," the professor's expression turns unpleasant. "why do cells degrade?" there's no doubt you're losing your mind.

thankful that you won't see jimin until later, you use your free time to calm down and regain your composure.

walking through the university building's halls, you accidentally collide with an enthusiastic student. "have you ever been rejected?"

"what?" you react with genuine surprise.

"we're conducting a focus group discussion for our thesis on people who've experienced rejection. if you fit the criteria, your participation would be appreciated," the student hands you a pamphlet.

"oh, no thank you." you brush past the dejected student. spotting an empty hallway bench, you sit down, putting your head into your hands. it's as if you're spiraling into insanity.

what exactly are you afraid of? rejection? embarrassment?

all your life you’ve done nothing but run away from your problems. always finding the easy way out of everything. you’ve never wanted to face any problem or challenge head-on, deeming them unworthy of the trouble and effort.

lifting your head from your hands, you slump into the bench, trying to break free from your unhealthy mindset. 

that’s when the realization finally comes to you.

jimin is worth it. she's worth every bit of trouble in the world. she's worth every second of your time. she's worth it all.

you rise from the bench, your feet moving faster than your brain. inside the university gymnasium, students stream out of the volleyball courts, signaling the end of the game. quickly heading to the back where the locker rooms are, you spot minjeong outside.

"y/n? what brings you here? i didn't see you during the game," minjeong questions, looking at your disheveled appearance.

breathless, you hadn't realized you were running. "not at the game…" you struggle for air, "jimin…" you hunch over, attempting to regulate your breathing. "where?"

minjeong places a hand on your back. "before you go looking for her, make sure you don't faint right now," she advises. it's amusing, really, the volleyball player who just finished a game telling you to relax.

"she's in the back of the locker room. she's alone in there since everyone else quickly left because it’s a friday night," minjeong informs you. "only athletes are allowed inside." a frustrated groan escapes you. "however, if it's important, i can pretend i never saw you go in," minjeong adds, a sly smile forming on her lips.

you've never set foot in the locker room before. the idea of being here seemed distant, even impossible. yet, you continue forward until you spot the one person who's been on your mind since the very first conversation.

"y/n? how did you manage to get in?" jimin's voice carries a mix of surprise and curiosity.

you're thankful for minjeong's advice to catch your breath. "minjeong let me in." jimin's face is flushed, an unmistakable sign that she gave her all on the court. despite the disheveled hair and the sheen of sweat, she remains the most beautiful person you've ever seen.

"what are you doing here?" jimin stands from the bench, turning toward you.

"i needed to tell you something, and i couldn't hold it back."

"what is it-"

"wait. let me say this all before you say anything else, or i might just black out and forget everything." you inhale deeply. "throughout my life, i've let fear dictate my choices. i've been nothing more than a coward. i couldn’t even take a stance in a tiktok argument. confrontation scared me, and i felt like i could never handle it."

"i was always scared," you press on, sensing jimin's eyes on you. "until i met you and got to know you." your mouth feels dry. "there are so many things i want to say, but i don't want it to sound corny," you chuckle, noticing jimin's smile forming.

"through you, i've learned the worth of ambition and dedication. you've shown me that fear is something that can help you become the person you want to be, not stop you from becoming it," you pause, then continue, "you've given me a new perspective i never thought i could ever have."

“i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to talk this long,” you feel relieved as you see jimin laugh with you.

letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, “i like you, jimin. i have feelings for you.”

a beat passes and she doesn’t say anything. each second that goes by, you feel the dread within you grow more and more. as you were about to open your mouth to apologize, you feel jimin grab your arm. in the hush that follows your confession, you feel a rush of nerves coursing through your veins. jimin's grip on your arm is firm yet strangely comforting, and her intense gaze never wavers from yours. 

jimin's lips form into a gentle smile. "you really caught me off guard, y/n," she admits, her voice carrying a mixture of surprise and something you dare to hope might be fondness.

your lips quirk into a sheepish grin, your heart beginning to settle from the initial anxiety. "yeah, sorry about that. i didn't exactly plan to pour my heart out in the locker room."

jimin chuckles softly, her fingers lightly squeezing your arm. "well, i appreciate your honesty. it takes a lot of courage to say what you just did."

the warmth of her smile and the sincerity in her eyes encourage you. "you've been my inspiration for stepping out of my comfort zone," you confess, your voice steadier now. "i realized that i can't let fear hold me back anymore."

jimin's thumb draws a little pattern on your arm, sending shivers down your spine. "i'm glad to hear that. and you know what, y/n?" her gaze intensifies, a spark of playfulness dancing in her eyes. "i think it's only fair that i tell you something too."

your curiosity piques, your heart racing once again. "what is it?"

jimin's smile turns tender, and she takes a step closer, her free hand lifting to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. "i like you too, y/n. more than you can imagine."

you’re not afraid anymore. with a gentle yet firm pull, you bring her even closer to you. with a surge of courage, you close the distance between your lips.

the kiss is gentle, tentative at first, as if both of you are savoring the reality of this long-awaited moment. jimin's lips are soft and warm against yours, and her fingers find their way to your cheek, holding you tenderly. your heart thrums in your chest, the world around you fading into a distant blur.

as the kiss deepens, the initial hesitance transforms into unspoken understanding. lips meld with lips, sending electric sensations through your veins. it's an intertwining of emotions and desires, a connection formed by your honest words and the silent longing that brought you to this moment. 

when you finally pull away, your breaths mingle in the space between you. jimin's eyes are half-lidded, her lips still just a whisper away from yours. "i think you’re braver than you thought," she mumbles, her voice laced with newfound intimacy.

you share a breathless chuckle, your forehead resting against hers. “to be honest, i didn’t even think i’d make it this far.”

“are you guys done?” minjeong yells from the entrance of the locker room. “i’m hungry!”

both you and jimin share a laugh at minjeong. you reach for her bag and proceed to walk out of the locker room, your hands intertwined comfortably. together, you make your way to yizhuo's dorm, where aeri had already joined.

the soft glow of the television screen in the living room casts a gentle illumination on you and jimin, who are cozily seated on the couch. your hands are intertwined beneath a comfortable blanket, and a bowl of popcorn rests between you. the film playing on the screen has captured your undivided attention, while jimin is having trouble deciding either to watch the movie or you instead.

aeri and minjeong stand together at a distance, with yizhuo in her kitchen. the trio is busy preparing the remaining food to be served later in the night.

"i can't believe y/n actually did it. i can't believe your idea actually worked, minjeong," aeri whispers to the two girls.

"it was only a matter of time. i couldn't stand hearing jimin talk about her endlessly, looking like an oblivious lovesick puppy that was kicked onto the street," minjeong rolls her eyes at the memory of her friend. "i'm glad she finally admitted it to herself too."

"it wasn't minjeong's idea at all! it was my idea to go to the campus cafe that morning when you told us she'd be there," yizhuo points out. "plus, let's not take any credit from y/n. we may have given her some hope that jimin liked her, but at the end of the day, she was the one who made the move." aeri and minjeong nod, agreeing with yizhuo’s points.

“how’d you even know y/n was going to be at the cafe before class, aeri?” minjeong asks, finishing plating the dishes.

“she texted me she couldn’t sleep and asked if i wanted coffee before our 8 am class at 4 in the morning that day,” aeri explains.

“makes sense,” yizhuo points out.

the three girls make their way over to where you and jimin are seated, each holding plates of food in their hands. aeri takes the seat next to you, while minjeong and yizhuo settle on the floor amidst pillows and blankets, arranging the plates.

your gaze occasionally shifts from the movie playing to the people around you. there's a sense of contentment in this simple act – being in each other's presence, a shared moment that speaks volumes beyond words. back then, it was difficult for you to decide what you wanted and even what to think. now, looking around, you know for sure what you want.

you turn to face jimin when she squeezes your hand under the blanket. here she was, in all her glory. 

you inch closer to her, resting your head on her shoulder. despite the gentle embrace of that moment, an urge runs through you - to dismantle each and every single dreadful rumor about jimin. she was more than just the petty and nasty words of thoughtless individuals who thrived on idle gossip.

in your eyes, she embodied all that was beautiful and kind in the world. with her by your side, fear dissolved into insignificance, its grip over you gone.

“i really like you,” you whisper, only for her to hear.

“i know. i really like you too,” she whispers back to you.

additional notes: it's my first time ever uploading a piece on any platform! i hope you all enjoyed reading. i don't really know how to work tumblr, i just want to share my writing lol. your comments and feedback are much appreciated! but pls be kind, i am sensitive hehe

[tkpuke]

Sweet Tranquility

Pairing -Lee!Lucifer x Gender Neutral Reader

Word count - 1,293

In which Lucifer seems to be falling back into the unhealthy obsession of creating rubber ducks, which takes a toll on his sleep schedule and your relationship. You’re the only one who knows him best, so you pull out a trick that gets him to calm down and feel loved all at the same time.

This is a tickle fic. Do not read if that’s not your thing.

The clock was nearing 2 AM, rain being heard pitter-pattering on the window. It was another restless night for you, tossing and turning in your sleep to find that perfect comfy position that’ll knock you out. In the middle of your tossing and turning, you mindlessly search for Lucifer, something to hold and cuddle into since you begin to shiver a bit.

A few seconds go by, and you open your eyes to see he was yet again, not in bed. You sigh, but more in annoyance, knowing this is the third night in a row where he hasn’t been in bed, leaving you all alone. In the morning you’ve tried asking him what he’s been doing awake so late, and he eases your worries by saying he had only gone to use the bathroom. You never went out to go see for yourself, wanting to believe him. However, this night you had a gut feeling you should go search for him. Because unless he has a weird bathroom schedule he didn’t tell you about, you’re starting to call bullshit on him going off to use it every night around 2 AM, and he doesn’t even come back until an hour or two go by.

You treaded quietly down the hall, seeing if you could hear where exactly he was at. Your ears picked up on slight noise coming from the living room, and when you got a little closer you saw light shining from there. As you peeked your head in, that’s when you saw Lucifer sitting down near the coffee table, focusing on painting a rubber duck. Beside him seemed to be twenty more jumbled together, all in different colorful outfits and top hats.

“Lucy?” You called out, causing him to jump slightly from not expecting you to be awake. He immediately starts stuttering, searching for an explanation. “Oh! Y/N- I uhh- haha was just uhm..” His eyes dart around the room, fixing onto the huge grandfather clock that touches up the living room just perfectly, cluttering all the ducks under the rug as if you haven’t spotted them already.

“..I was on my way to the bathroom, per usual! As I noticed this beautiful babe of a clock we have here.” He rubs his chin in thought, looking over his shoulder at you. “Did you know we always had this?” Lucifer nervously laughs, the stutter making its appearance again when you gave him eyes of worry. “In the- er uh- house we’ve been practically living in for many years…”

All you did in response was take his hand into yours, the other finding its way to caress his cheek and then he broke.

“Fuck, I’m sorry Y/N. I promised it wouldn’t get this bad again, and I… well- I’m just so-“ you bring him into a hug to shush him, rubbing his back comfortingly. “Hey, we don’t have to talk about this right now. Let’s just go back to bed, okay?”

Lucifer nodded as you two walked back, hands interlocked. Getting into bed at the same time, moving around into a comfy position and settling with facing each other as your heads slightly bump together. Silence fills the room, almost passing out right then and there until you hear some shuffling.

You try to ignore it, assuming Lucifer wasn’t comfortable enough and was moving a little bit. Although the shuffling continued, making you sit up and look down at him. “Is everything alright?”

“I can’t sleep.” He says with a huff, staring up at the ceiling defeatedly.

This wasn’t your first rodeo where Lucifer couldn’t have sleep fall upon him. He always struggled becoming tired at the appropriate time, so it led you to come up with some ideas to help him.

“Do you want me to make you a hot drink?” You first suggested, something that always helps you knockout yourself. Lucifer shook his head, letting out a sigh. “No, that won’t do.”

“A massage, maybe?”

“Those never work.”

“How about watching a little bit of Tv?”

“We’ll accidentally stay up all night if we do that.”

You sit back on the bed headrest, forgetting how difficult he could be. It was like taking care of a child rather than your significant other.

That was until a lightbulb suddenly shined in your mind, a smile slowly forming, one he couldn’t see from how dark the room is, the city lights barely shining through the curtains to make some sort of visibility.

“Actually, I think I know what might do the trick.” The sound of your voice sounded more mischievous than comforting, which caused Lucifer to look over but let out a yelp of surprise from you straddling his waist in a quick second.

“What are you doing— H-HEHEY!” His question got cut off with a strangled giggle, your hands finding their way up to his underarms, going straight for the kill so soon.

As funny as it sounds, tickling was one of what seems like the only methods that helped tired out Lucifer. You can’t remember how exactly you stumbled upon this discovery, but what you do know is how he never complains because he secretly enjoys the thrill of it all. You tried getting him to admit it at one point, but you didn’t get far.

“Nohoho, wait! Wait!” Lucifer snapped his arms down but at the same time trying to grab at your wrists, but he didn’t pull them away. You both knew he had the strength to do so, but you’ll never comment on why he never does. The reason was clear as day.

No matter how many ‘please!’s or ‘stop!’s he throws at you, it all meant the opposite. “Y’know, times like these it makes it hard to believe you’re the ruler of Hell.” You teased, digging in his underarms a little deeper to pull out that snort he does. You weren’t left disappointed, him snorting as his hair becomes more unraveled with each shake of his head.

“I’ll shohow you once I’m FREHEHEE!” A squeal escapes him the minute you latch onto his thighs, the spot you go to when he gets snippy. Fingers find their way to his inner thighs, squeezing in a fast pace. “Lets see if you have enough energy once we’re finished, yeah?” You scoffed, almost nearly getting bucked off but you still had a firm grip on his thighs.

Thighs would be rank one for one of his most ticklish spots, his underarms being a close second. It takes only a few seconds for his laughter to become hoarse and silent, which has already happened, causing you to go slow and skitter your nails around his neck. You smiled at the sight of his cheeks becoming a more vibrant shade of red than it usually is, being a giggly mess and trying to trap your fingers under his chin.

“Ohohokay, I’ll sleheheep! I’m tired! I swehear!” He desperately pleas. His breathless state was convincing enough, but if there’s one thing you learned from all the times Lucifer tickled you, it was to be a little shit.

“Hmm, are you sure?” You left pokes all around his stomach, watching each poke earning you quiet giggles. He moves his hands away from your wrists up to your hands, and you let him. “Yehes, now leave me alohone.” You planted a kiss on his cheek, finally moving off of him. “Never.”

You tucked yourself back in bed, looking over to realize he is still giggling. “You do know I stopped, right?”

“Shut the hell up.”

You let out a breathy laugh. “It worked though. You can barely keep your eyes open now.”

Lucifer moved to lay on his side, a hand caressing your cheek. “It did, thank you.”

“I love you.”

[pansysgothgf]

Okay walk with me here…

Chris is in Texas with his parents. He’s still not talking to his dad, and by extension, Buck. He’s angry, confused, and being with his grandparents who fundamentally misunderstand him and his abilities. He’s struggling with his grief, with not understanding why his dad did what he did, and with missing someone who he’s so mad at.

Then he gets a call from his dad. He ignores it, and hears the home phone ring. He listens to his grandmother talk on the phone for a few minutes, in a hushed tone. It’s late here, past when his parents want him to go to bed but before when he’d sleep back home in Los Angeles.

His grandma cracks open the door, and sighs when she sees Chris is awake. “Your dad needs to talk to you. It’s… Christopher, it’s important you take his call.”

And that? That’s scary. His grandma hasn’t pushed him to talk to his dad in the month or so he’s been in El Paso, not like how his Abuelo has. So, Chris takes the call. For the first time since he stumbled out of his house, he hears his dad’s voice. It might as well have been a minute ago for how broken Eddie’s voice is.

Broken, because Buck got hurt at work. Badly hurt. His dad tells him they’re doing surgery, but that they don’t know what’ll happen. His dad tells him that he loves him, that it’s okay that he’s still hurt, that he just wanted Chris to hear it from him.

And Chris begs to come home. He packs his backpack as quickly as he can, he tells his grandma she can mail anything he forgot back home to him. He gets onto a redeye and thinks the name is appropriate. His eyes are red and swollen from tears. Because he didn’t hug Buck goodbye, because he left in the first place, because everything is so bleak right now.

His dad picks him up from the airport, and unlike when he left, when Chris comes home he clings onto his dad in a way he hasn’t since he was little. He explains that he’s still mad, that he isn’t ready to forgive his dad yet, but that he also isn’t going to leave again. His dad accepts it, asks if he wants to go home or to the hospital first. As if the answer isn’t obvious.

In the early hours of the morning, Eddie and Christopher Diaz sit on either side of Buck’s bed, holding either of his hands. Nothing is okay, not really, but when Buck’s hand twitches in Chris’ grasp and Eddie chokes out a sob while gently resting his forehead against Buck’s, Chris feels like he can see the sun peeking through the clouds.

[the-kr8tor]

Mudwood Manor

Pairing: Fae! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 3.1k

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, CW food mention, TW Blood, CW injury.

The Fall Masterlist

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Part I >>> Part II

You lay awake alone on the plush mattress that's not your own. Morning light filtering through the curtains, shining warmth right on your cheek. Your hand roaming around the soft fur of the blanket as the clock ticks slowly to eight. Eyes above the detailed swirling patterns on the bed's canopy, mind drifting back to the home you've left just a few days ago.

Tick.

Taking the ad for this house-sitting gig went better than you thought it would be. Thinking the house you would be watching over will just be a regular house in an urban subdivision. Not an estate full of ancient history situated in the middle of nowhere with only an elderly dog as a companion.

Tock.

At least it's better than your dead end job that makes you feel your soul is getting sucked with every hour you stay on the eighties musky carpeted floors, tapping away your entire life on the grainy screen of the corporate issued computer. The pay's good, better than what you were getting before anyway, even though it's only five months of house sitting it's way above your salary grade. You thank whatever entity out there that blew over the newspaper that literally landed on your lap while waiting for the bus stop, the 'help wanted' page open and glaring right at you. You only wish the job's longer though.

Tick.

The house being nice is an understatement, all oak and narra floors, fixtures and furniture made of the same wood. No sign of modernity in the entire estate. Even the kitchen is in an old style, well except for the coffee maker and microwave. Every hall and wall is covered in oil paintings, portraits of people dressed in old garb keep watch of your every move. The house creaks and shrieks during the late hours of the cold autumn night, always prompting you to keep your eyes tightly closed in an attempt to tamp down your curiosity.

Tock.

It's secluded enough that the air here feels crisp and cleaner than in the city. Trees whisper in the wind, moss clinging to its trunks. You suspect the house is as old as the woods that surround it. With vines curled and looped around the house's exterior and curved stained glass windows decorate its walls. Mudwood Manor they call it for every time it rains, mud gathers around the estate, threatening to swallow you like quick sand.

Chime!

The old grandfather clock's hand reaches eight, the sound echoes around the large room you've settled in. With an exhale, you reluctantly sit up, feet cold from the icy floor. Yawning, you wipe the sleep off your face, bones crying out in protest.

Lumbering your way through the usual morning routine, you change out of your pajamas even though no one else would see you in it, you still wear your usual day clothes, always feeling like you have to dress appropriately in this opulent house. If jeans and a jumper is considered appropriate in the massive estate.

The bathroom is no different than the rest of the house. With the large stark white bathtub in the middle of its tiled floors, twin sinks covered in dark marble, golden faucets squeak open as you turn the knob to brush your teeth. The entire bathroom is as big as your flat back in the city, you scoff at the extravagance of it all.

You like to think the owner of the place fits well with the manor, as eccentric and elegant as their home– all pearls and gold rings, silk and cashmere on their body. But alas you've never met him or them personally, only talking details on the telephone, his gruff voice vibrating against the receiver. They leave the key under the large mat after you've driven three hours to get there. The only clue you have of them actually existing is the instructions they've left you. The note now pinned on the fridge stocked full of food that could last you the entire five months, not to mention the large pantry that could feed an entire village.

You've got everything you'll ever need to survive five months alone. The thought scares you for a bit, but with the silence, fresh air and an entire library of books that you've never thought you could read in your lifetime, the loneliness isn't all bad, the place calms you down; if not for the bouts of sadness, you could see this place as your home for the time being.

The old border collie waits for you in the kitchen, mismatched eyes staring at your form, her tongue lolling on the side, greeting you with what you see as a smile.

"Morning, old Nellie" you greet back with a quick pet on her fluffy head, taking the time to scratch behind her ears. She wags her tail happily, while her eyes are closed in content. You've decided to talk from time to time so that you don't lose your voice, which Nellie appreciates the chatter.

You feed Nellie her breakfast first before fixing one yourself. She eats it in glee. The instructions written in neat cursive jumps at you every morning before opening the fridge.

You can't help but read it again.

1. Do not let anyone in.

You thought that was reasonable enough, it's not your place to invite people in here anyway.

2. Do not wipe the salt line on the doors and windows.

Now that's weird, you've always thought, but to each their own. The salt probably helps with keeping out the smell or rodents. Right?

3. The house is old, the sounds at night are from the metal pipes and scaffolding. Nothing to worry about.

Creepy, it's not like the place needs an extra creep factor added in it.

4. Feed Nellie three times a day without fail. Take her on walks around the estate every morning and before the sun sets.

That's alright, taking care of pets was part of the deal anyway. And it doesn't hurt that Nellie's a good dog to hang around with.

5. Do not in any circumstance go to the woods.

6. Wear the necklace at all times.

Your eyes drift over to the simple circular metal necklace sitting on the counter top, scoffing, you chose not to wear it just because an eccentric millionaire tells you to.

7. Only eat and drink the food I have provided.

You don't think you want to meet the owners now with how creepy they are just based on his instructions. Possessive much?

8. Be wary.

A shiver runs down your spine by just reading those two words.

You shake it off, opening the fridge, nothing piques

your interest this morning. Huffing, you have a hankering for fresh bread, alas you've eaten the last loaf yesterday. The strawberry jam inside the fridge mocks you. You recall on your drive to the manor you've passed by a small village, you're sure the place has a bakery or even a café in it. You crave a different scenery, and to use your voice other than for talking to Nellie.

Turning around, you put your hands on your hips, smiling at your companion who licks at the last bit of food in her bowl.

"What do you say for a stroll, Nellie?" She tilts her head in question, ears perking up, tail wagging excitedly.

—

You've never felt more isolated from civilization while walking towards the village, no houses run along the bumpy road, just miles and miles of trees with its aging wood, wild violets swaying around its trunks. The tall grass makes it hard to see the path. Mist blanketing and moistening the soil.

The walk was a lot longer than you thought it would be, now you're absolutely starving after walking for almost an hour. Nellie wasn't complaining though, for an older dog she seems to have so much energy in her. The village has clearly seen history, with its cobblestone streets, iron lampposts and ancient bricks. The fog thickens, blanketing the roofs of the village like marshmallow fluff.

You tie her leash around a lamp post, petting her fluffy head, you instruct her to sit and stay. She obliges, staring happily at you through her blue and brown eyes.

"Good girl, I'll be back in a flash" you make a mental note of buying her a treat for being such a good sport while you drag her from the manor.

Entering the shop, the bells chime signaling your arrival. Freshly baked bread wafts your senses as various meat is on display over at the counter, waiting for your perusal. You smell the soup of the day, judging by the aroma, you deduce it being butter squash soup, your stomach rumbles at the thought.

The modest shop has quite a few people in it. They chatter amongst their friends whilst eating breakfast and drinking their morning tea. Another patron enters behind you, she greets everyone by name, while the others immediately greet her the same. Well, except for a group of strangers sitting at the far end, they pay her no mind at all. It's a small village, you never doubted for a second that everyone would know every person that lives here. You've anticipated it actually, so used to being alienated from the crowd, you haven't noticed the old woman beckoning you over with a smile.

"Bonnie?" She calls for the third time.

"Oh! Sorry, I was thinking what to order" you move closer to the counter, the chill from the cold cuts display seeps through your jumper.

"You're the new caretaker at the old manor I presume?" She grins sweetly, showing her smile lines around her lips.

"House-sitter, I'm only here for five months" you're wary about telling her vital information, but she's an old woman. What's the harm in telling her that?

"Oh, I see he's going for a quick business trip this time. He would usually take an entire year away, y'know" her thick accent makes it hard for you to understand some of her words. Nonetheless, you don't miss the vital information about your mysterious employer. "But I don't gossip" she chuckles, "what will it be, deary?"

"You know Mr. O'hara, the owner?"

"Aye, known him since he was a lad. Good kid he was." She shakes her head. "There I go gossiping again, what are you havin'?"

You want more answers to feed your curiosity, but you don't want to pester the poor woman. "A BLT with cheese if you have them, lightly toasted and some of the soup, please." she nods, heading over to her station to prepare your sandwich when an older man chides in your conversation.

"Oh please, Orla y'know stopping yourself from gossiping just hurts you more" he laughs from his belly, white beard bouncing as he guffaws with his friends sitting him with.

"This" Orla, gestures from you to her. "Was a private conversation, where's your manners?"

"Don't know where I last put it!" He laughs again, shaking the wooden table in front of him. "Miss, let me guess, O'hara gave you those crazy rules?"

You perk up at the mention of the list. "Yeah, he did. How'd you know?"

He shrugs while the other patrons listen in, "he does the same thing to his other caretakers, there's a 'be wary' one, right?"

"Yes, it's really creepy"

The old woman pipes up, talking over her shoulder as she slices your sandwich. "It's a necessary evil after what happened to his daughter"

"What happened to his daughter?" You ask with trepidation.

"Don't tell me you actually believe that, old woman?" The older man argues back.

"Believe what?" You feel like there's an inside joke you keep missing.

"She was taken by them." Orla, turns around with your soup packed in a tupperware. You look at her questioningly.

"Bullshit if you ask me" the old man mumbles behind his mug. He sees your confused look, "she's talking about the fae" you thank him with a nod.

"It's true!" She wraps your sandwich inside foil, carefully putting it inside the paper bag. "There's no logical answer on where she is! Now it's just O'Hara in that massive estate."

"Kid just ran away, that's all!" Another older man argues back.

"Pssh," Orla swats him away with her hand, he turns away with a scoff. She turns back towards you, ringing your order up in the cashier. "Just do what his list says and you'll be fine" she says it like a warning to never stray far from the rules.

"Why do you think it's the fae?" You give her the payment she needs.

Humming, she clicks her tongue. "Just know it's them."

"Okay, um thank you" drifting away, she holds your arm back, taking your attention again.

Orla looks at you with wide eyes. "You know about them, yes?"

"Yes, like don't eat their food or you'll get stuck or don't give them your name or say thank you. I've heard the folk stories"

"Not just a story. The wood sings and they crave an audience." she lets go of your arm, your breath hitching, goosebumps appear on your skin.

You shake the thought, or try to at least.

The door chimes as you leave. Nellie lays on the pavement, tail wagging as she sees you come back to her side.

"Hi, got you something" she stands up, barking at you in excitement. "Okay, okay, here" Chuckling, you take a slice of bacon from your sandwich, giving it to her.

Nellie carefully takes it from your hand without biting your fingers, she chews happily.

"Good?" You scratch behind her fluffy ear. "Let's go back" untying her leash, you juggle the sandwich and her lead with your hands. The horror stories you've been told in your youth echoes in your mind, as your soft footfalls on the moist pavement. Wind rushes past you, pushing you back towards the manor.

—

Arriving inside the gates of Mudwood Manor, you gaze at the large brick building. It casts a shadow over you, its stature imposing. Fading bricks and trellises crawling with overgrown vines that's starting to wither and turn dark with bits of oranges and red still clinging to its last life. The large red door of the main entrance adds to your uneasiness. You attribute the fear from what the deli owner told you, the woods don't look much better. Tall trees with leaves so thick it blocks sunlight from hitting the undergrowth. From where you're standing, darkness seems to prevail inside. The thick fog added to the eeriness of the scene. It drapes over the treeline like curtains, swirling smoke falling down to the tips of your shoes, hiding something behind you can't quite see.

Just staring from the woodland edge gives you a sense of belonging with every second you stand idle. You have no idea why this feeling encapsulates you. The wind tries to push you towards the dark, flashes of autumn colored leaves swirl past. Eyelashes fluttering in the wind, your lips part as you listen to the flora dancing in the wind, as if it beckons you over. Daring you to cross the edge.

You wake up from the trance as Nellie growls at a squirrel taunting her from the ground. She pulls at her leash, the rope taut, your hand aches at the burn. You let go of the paper bag, half eaten soup spills over the grass, now holding the leash with both hands, you struggle to control the border collie.

"Nellie, calm down!" You yelp in pain when Nellie lunges, escaping your hold. The rope leaves angry marks on your palms, skin aching from the piercing pain. Nellie runs, following the grey squirrel into the woods. You can hear her barks fading in the distance. "Nellie! Come back!" You yell but it's futile as the old dog disappears from view.

"Fuck!" Without thinking, you run after her, legs carrying you further into the thick trees. The fog parts, opening the way. Eyes roaming the moss covered soil for her footprints. "Nellie!"

You're gonna lose your job, the thought makes you run faster. Tripping on a rock, you land on your already injured hand, dirt and grime sticking to the angry gashes, blood mixing with soil. Ignoring the pain, you push through the thicket.

Running, muscles aching, there's a stitch on your side as you stop to catch your breath. Hands on your thighs, you inhale and exhale. Nellie's footprints are barely visible under all the green and orange. Standing to your full height, your heart thumping like a drum under your ribcage. Eyes widening at the darkness that envelopes you, whirling around, fear overtakes your entire being.

You're lost.

Everywhere you look, identical trees fill your vision, cold seeping into your bones, smoke escapes your parted lips. Fingers turning stiff, you turn around when you hear Nellie's familiar bark.

"Nellie! Come here, girl!" You clap your hands to get her attention. "Nellie!"

Another bark echoes out in the dark, with only bits of sunlight filtering through the thicket, you let your other senses guide you to the sound. Speed walking, dry leaves crunch under your shoes, you call out to Nellie again. Narrowly avoiding a tree root protruding from the ground, you step over it so you don't land face first into the moist soil.

You stop when silence permeates the woods again. Standing still, a ring of mushrooms at your feet, you breathe heavily. "Nellie!" Frustrated, you yell again.

Instinctively stepping past a mushroom, you move your neck around, eyes roaming, looking for her white and black fur. Your palms land to your clammy forehead, wincing when you graze your injury.

"Fuck!" You stop circling around when the woods seem to expand right in front of your eyes, moving, flinging away, adding to the acres of wooded land. Vision focusing and unfocusing as the expanse extends further away. Fear once again blankets your nerves. Your mind claws at you to keep running.

"Lost?" A deep voice asks behind you. Alluring, tempting you to answer back.

Your blood suddenly runs cold. Primal fear makes your heart leap out of your chest.

Light suddenly appears behind you, your shadow gets taller and taller until it finally leaves you. Alone, you don't dare look behind you. The hair on the back of your neck stands up despite the warmth radiating from behind. Trepidation howls inside you.

Blood rushes in your ears, knuckles tighten, nails digging into skin as crimson drips on the tall grass below.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, curiosity wins over you.

You dare look behind.

[nanamis-bigtie]

Round 2: It's a Match!

about, rules & navigation | previous round

After a few hours of browsing the app you settle on nine the most promising candidates. They set the bar of your expectations quite high, and you're itching to finally get to know them a little bit more...personally. Of course, it's still FAR away from making any binding decisions but the first conversation will make for a big part of the final score.

Remember you vote for a character you don't want to advance further! The character with the biggest number of votes will be eliminated.

Profile One: Toji Fushiguro ELIMINATED

Profile Two

The first message comes almost immediately after you swipe right: a simple hi and a quirky kaomoji. You can't help but chuckle: what kind of adult man would type like this? It's a little weird but endearing—and matching the vibe you got to taste from his profile. Well, if you already swallowed that bait, you gotta accept those little consequences.

He types fast—and you catch yourself trying to match his pacing, answering faster than you normally would. Now you understand why he uses so many abbreviations, writing has close to no chance of following his thoughts. Despite that and his general extravagance, he's good at keeping conversation in line—and keeping a smile on your face. He's just so silly and charismatic.

From time to time, when too many typos make his messages unintelligible, you have to pause and ask for explanation. He answers then slower, apologizing for his clumsy hands, too big for his phone, but can hold himself only for a few exchanges before he returns to prior craziness.

Conversation stops as abruptly as it started, leaving you a little uneasy—have you said something he found offensive? He keeps you antsy for a few hours before he returns as if nothing happened, chirping about a snorkeling class he's taking. And then comes a photo. He's showing you colorful shells on open palm, you get a glimpse of blue beach shorts (with a trace of happy trail poking over the hem) and a really good view on his tum, still wet and showing the first signs of slight sunburn. He's not flexing but you can easily spot the outline of his abs and v-cut. That's...a surprise. He didn't look so athletic in the photos you saw before.

Profile Three

It's already dark outside when notification from him finally pops out. You're on your way to a local bar, to catch a glimpse of more traditional adventure hunting, but you change your mind almost immediately. Frankly, you're not quite in the mood for dealing with drunk people right now, and he's just offered you a perfect opportunity to withdraw with dignity to the smaller and calmer bar by the pool at your hotel.

He starts with a profound apology for keeping you waiting and an explanation for his absence. Apparently, he's been invited to a spontaneous bird watching trip and couldn't resist the temptation of trying something new.

As expected after his introduction, he's an amazing conversation partner. You worried you might end up overwhelmed by his volubility, but he smoothly adjusts to your style instead of expecting you to follow his—right as if he knew what kind of thoughts bother you. He even apologizes here and there for being too talkative, giving you the impression that he's not as confident as you assumed at first, hiding his insecurities behind a neatly built wall of pretty words.

Even so, he keeps you awake late at night. There's something about his expression that has you glued to the screen; you put your phone away only two times, for a quick toilet break and for ordering a new drink. You're sitting by the pool alone, cooling your feet in the water and giddy like a teenager talking for the first time with their crush. And if he wouldn't cut the chain first, concerned about your sleeping schedule, you wouldn't be surprised if you survived like this till the morning.

Profile Four

Something tells you he'd wait for you to write first, so you give yourself an appropriate quarter and attack. Funny enough, he answers exactly fifteen minutes later, and shamelessly admits it's on purpose when you playfully point it out.

You're not surprised that he asked if you really read through his profile. What takes you aback is that he apologizes after your confirmation. As if you took a great weight off his shoulders, confirming that your dating goals align and that no, you're not looking for a sponsor for your vacation (well, you already paid for them out of your own pocket anyway).

When you think about it now, after exchanging a few photos as you two chatted about your day, he does give a vibe of someone who could have been interested in a sugar daddy kind of a deal. No suits are spotted but here and there you're flashed with an expensive-looking watch and for lunch he's ordered himself a luxurious set of cheese. The worth of the latter you wouldn't guess but he takes his time explaining every single one of his treats, how it should be paired with wine and fruits, and where exactly you could try sets of similar quality: a few proposals for a few different budgets.

Once you break the ice, he's turned into a decent conversation partner, but he has an ugly tendency for keeping you waiting. You're not sure if he's busy (he hasn't told you much over his lunch and vague plans for the afternoon) or just likes to keep you on edge. He's still hard to read to you and has some liking for flirty teasing.

Profile Five

After over twelve hours of silence, you're ready to assume he ghosted you. Maybe he changed his mind when he looked at your profile again, maybe he already found someone to occupy his time, maybe swiping you right was an accident. It's a little pity but you don't want to grieve over it, not with so many other options available.

But you wake up to a message sent at 5am. Who in their sane mind would be awake so early on a vacation? Well, you're up early too, your stomach demanding a visit at the hotel buffet, so you can't really judge him. Plus, he could be still awake after a party...or rather from some other kind of all-night escapade, since he didn't give you the impression of a party-hard guy. Either way, his next answer comes almost immediately, so he keeps you company during the breakfast.

Majority of your conversation is taken by comparing your meals. He's still quite dry and formal but way more open, compared to how he presented himself in his profile, as if talking about food genuinely excited him. He opted for a typical hotel-style buffet, but he still took almost artistic photos of what he had on his plate. Its amount could feed a small family too and when you jokingly point it out, he admits he's here to enjoy his life to the fullest, so he's not trying to tame his gluttony.

Before you part, you manage to squeeze the name of his hotel out of him. It's on the same side of the town, thirty minutes or so by foot, if you chose to walk by the beach. You take it as an interesting sign.

Profile Six

Right in the first message he apologizes for being busy today. But if you don't mind having the conversation chopped by longer breaks, he can lead it this way without a problem.

You don't mind, at least for now.

Out of necessity the conversation leans more towards his part of the day. You can't pretend you're not curious (and a little wary, you would rather not be a sneaky date for a man who plays a perfect husband or dad on the other side), and he doesn't mind sharing, at least as much as it's appropriate for this level of proximity. Apparently, he's accompanying a good friend of his during a cooking competition. It doesn't take you long to google which hotel holds it but from a few photos they shared on social media you can't spot him anywhere. Given his appearance and posture, it wouldn't be hard; apparently the official camera is not on your side today.

Frequency of his messages increases closer to the evening. He returns your curiosity and prompts you to share glimpses of your day. He even gets you to send him a photo; you promised yourself to not share too much but something about his tone—both soothing and somewhat demanding—has changed your mind. You send him a selfie that reveals a little more of your body compared to what you posted in your profile. Maybe it's a little bait, maybe an earnest opening for flirting.His answer, a very subtle compliment, is a pleasant surprise. And so is his selfie taken for you, tactfully keeping the same amount of skin revealed but very deliberately underlining his big assets.

Profile Seven

At first, the exchange has more in common with interrogation than with a normal conversation. He's so unwilling to talk it gets on your nerves but as soon as you don't answer for longer, he sends another message, so you assume there is interest on his side, just something stops him in his tracks. Maybe he's shy, maybe he's awkward, maybe he's busy, maybe everything all at once.

His desperation to salvage the mood eventually pays off as the conversation becomes more natural. He apparently needed time to warm up to you and your vibes, his messages lose stiffness with time, and he even starts talking more about himself instead of trying to squeeze approval out of you. He's still not on the level you would call a good conversation but he remains interesting enough for you to poke at his shell over and over again.

You just can't help but wonder how far his patience will reach and how much you can bring out of him before one of you two gets tired with this wary dance.

And if he's not a surprise. You assumed he would give up after three hours at best—but he keeps returning. At some point he even dares to compliment you and that's where you perk your ears up more out of enthusiasm than only out of curiosity. It's been...a while since someone told you something so smooth and almost erotic while staying in the appropriate line. In seconds he turns you from almost bored to a little flustered, to the point you lose the upper hand in the conversation. 

You can't help but wonder if his distanced demeanor from earlier wasn't just a smart bait.

Profile Eight

It's not the first time you're immediately asked out by your match, but it still takes you by surprise. You didn't expect it from him in particular and you feel a little disturbed by this sudden confrontation with reality. You decline, tad disappointed that a person so promising significantly lowered his chances with the mood-ruining hurry. A hot fling is your goal, yes, but you would rather take some proper time to assess if he's a person worth that adventure.

And another surprise—you misread his intentions! You're relieved to learn he just wanted to pass you a word about a fun party in a club he knows, not to go there with you with one goal in mind. 

He's not a tourist but lives with a relative and helps around in exchange for some "pocket money" he saves for a rainy day during the next term of college. It's not his first summer rodeo and he knows the area through and through. You propose a little game to test his knowledge: you give him very vague descriptions of your surroundings and prompt him to guess where you are now.

He makes the right guess after the fourth clue.

At times you forget you're on a dating app, with the way he advertises you the best spots all over the area and even starts to adjust them to your preferences. But you don't really mind it, he's cheerful and tickling the right parts of your mind. If only he didn't avoid any romantic inclinations like a plague, you surely would catch yourself regretting you declined that party invitation instead of letting the misunderstanding flow.

Profile Nine

You suspect this is going to be a tough row to hoe and with every exchanged word you're only hugging yourself over your intuition more. He somehow hangs in there but he's so shy it's cute and painful at the same time. At least you can read between his words that he's a rather good-natured man but someone less patient would probably abandon the conversation a long time ago.

He's prone to jokes and flirting but answers precise questions without any hesitation. For a try you share a link to your favorite Spotify playlist, and it does wonders to the ice breaking process. This way you finally learn the root of his interest in music and rather original appearance: he's in a semi-amateur band and works in one of more alternative clubs around to support his younger brother's education.

Overall, a sweetheart and a little bit of a nerd. Awkward but a sweetheart, nevertheless.

Despite everything, the words are coming together, and you manage to lead the conversation for him while not feeling frustrated with it. He's surprisingly mature and genuinely trying to connect with you, with time shedding the awkward shell and letting himself be bolder with his questions. Your profile has definitely been scanned profoundly for all possible conversation topics and something tells you he has a list of them on him because their order is weirdly particular.You even manage to convince him to share a selfie, still curious how he will present himself in his own eyes. He's striking handsome in a kicked-puppy way, with a rather athletic build to it—which you didn't expect at all.

Profile Ten

The moment you see a message from him—about an hour after you matched—you brace yourself for a tough battle. Given how mysterious he presented himself, you're ready to assume this is going to be another pull-by-tongue marathon or contrary, honest and precise to a fault statement that he wants to only fuck, no sentiments and flirting needed.

You're pleasantly surprised to be welcomed with a smooth, natural conversation.

Oh, he has the power of a preacher, you realize as the upper hand you had at the beginning just slips out of your reach. He's 100% in his element, playing that meticulously designed game of a cat and mouse. Indeed, you feel like a little mouse observed by a bird of prey perched somewhere above your head. And more, you find yourself curious how it is to be grabbed between talons.

He's not the kind of a man who would take advantage of it, though, as he keeps appropriate distance and never allows himself to go further than some smooth yet very cautious compliments. It's too considerate to pass as a part of a calculated strategy...probably. When you think about it after putting the phone away for a moment, he could convince you to believe in anything with all that smoothness. But you just can't stop yourself from reaching for it again as soon as you see a notification. Your instinct prompts you to trust him and his intentions for now.

Maybe it's that gentle smile you can somehow feel from the words on the screen. Despite everything, he's soaked in nice vibes.

Plus, he's hot.

[yuri-is-online]

A Step Behind the Curtain (Jamil Viper x Yuu)

He didn't know you then, but that didn't stop your kindness. If you were willing to go so far out of your way for a literal stranger what would you do if you were friends? How far would you go for someone you cared for?

Would you still want to wish him happy birthday?

notes: they/them pronouns used for Yuu, stranger crushes, mild angst with the intent of comfort, Jamil deserves nice things. If you like this please check my master list here.

The first birthday Jamil had at Night Raven College had been painful. He had been looking forward to it initially, marked it in ink in his planner with the expectation that he would get to spend it alone.

When Kalim showed up he'd thrown away the whole book instead of re-arrange it. The thaumarks it cost to replace was nothing compared to the blow the Asim's continued to deal his pride. This year Kalim had agreed to keep from throwing any ostentatious surprise parties, but there was still the threat he would decide he knew Jamil's wants better than the man himself and do... something. If he was in a more reflective mood he might have noted that by "something" he really meant "anything," but the tension headache working itself across his forehead is preventing any thought other than a need for medication.

That he has conveniently run out of, it's all he can do to keep from grinding his teeth and making the pain worse. This is not the first time he has been grateful there aren't limited hours on the school's hospital wing, and it might not even be the last time today depending on what Kalim has planned. It is the first time he walks in on someone already sorting through the first aid cabinet, it stops him in his tracks and almost tricks him into pinching himself to make sure he's awake.

"Oh I'm sorry." The other student is just as surprised to see him, but they keep their voice at a three a.m. appropriate quiet. "Jamil right?"

"Right." He can't figure out if he has the right to encroach on their space, maybe it's the headache but he can't place the face anywhere. There is a funny feeling at the realization they know his name, different than when Azul says it but flavored with a similar worry as he opens his mouth to try and ask for his turn with the cabinet only to find they've somehow closed the gap with the tablets he was looking for in their outstretched hand.

"You were massaging your head." Is all they offer to soothe his confusion, turning towards their back pack to offer him an unopened water bottle before they turn to leave. He doesn't take the pills immediately, instead he finds his fingers curling around the packet and slowly trying to cover his heart with the illusion of their warmth. Their hands had been cold, but had he really touched them long enough to know that?

"Thanks." He means it, but they just shrug at him with a smile, as if they would do this for anyone despite somehow knowing his name.

"Don't mention it." Their name is Yuu, he belatedly realizes as he agonizes over what you're welcome would have sounded like from their voice instead of a dismissal of merit. As if sensing he wanted to hear more, they pause in the infirmary doors and turn to him with a smile he knows he could never afford. "Oh! It's your birthday right?" And before he can prepare himself they half sing "Happy birthday~ I hope it gets better." He drops the pills in shock but they're gone into the early morning air before he they can realize the flustered mess they've left.

Happy birthday. He bends to pick up the packet and downs the medication along with the fluttering feeling in his heart. There is no time to think about this now, for now he will simply hold onto the gentle calm they created for him. It can fuel his desire for a better life later, in the quiet of the petty realization that this year, Kalim was not the first person to wish him well.